We Shall Inherit the Wind (20 page)

‘Children?’

‘Yes, I was told she was admitted to hospital after her last birth because it was feared she might do something to the new-born child.’

‘Yes … Post-natal depression. But that wasn’t what I meant. No, she was a danger to whoever she met. Dangerous in the sense that she didn’t know her own strength, the power she could exert on men.’

‘You mean she had power over your husband, too?’

‘I know he was smitten, bewitched, definitely attracted to her, like every other man. And when she disappeared, you should have seen the hours he put in. He worked round the clock. There wasn’t a cubic metre of sea in Lurefjorden, Radsund, right up to Alverstraumen, that wasn’t searched. He came home late at night and left again early the next morning. Often, when a body was found in the sea – even many months afterwards – it was as if, it’s sad to say it, some hope was kindled in his eyes. Not that he thought she was still alive. But that he would finally have it confirmed. That she was gone for good. That he could go back to his life. You understand … a bit like a relative.’

I nodded. ‘Yes, I understand what you mean.’

‘And then when Ranveig turned up …’

‘Yes? She doesn’t have the same radiance.’

‘No? Well, you’re the man.’

‘She’s good-looking and nice enough, but she’s not the way you describe Lea. She certainly hasn’t got that kind of charisma.’

For a moment or two she seemed content. Then she said:
‘Nonetheless, he’s there as often as he was before. Where do you think he is now, for example?’

‘Oh, yes. Is that where he is?’

‘I don’t know, to be frank. He goes to sea as much as he can. Sometimes he doesn’t come home until late at night. Now I can’t even be bothered to look for him any longer …’ She nodded towards the binoculars on the window sill. ‘I would guess that he’s visiting the widow, though.’

‘But the widow isn’t alone,’ I mumbled.

‘No?’

‘My friend’s there with her, too.’

The shop in Feste was a lot busier on a Saturday morning than it had been on the Monday. Despite the poor weather it was clear that
cabin-owners
had found a way across the sound. I glimpsed the tall shopkeeper at the back of the room. Behind the cash desk sat a dark-haired woman. At a table to the left was a handful of old-timers drinking coffee. An elderly woman was busy cutting off the tops of yesterday’s unsold newspapers to send back for a refund; she smiled sweetly as I entered.

I ambled over to the shopkeeper, who obviously recognised me. ‘Hello again. Anything I can help you with?’

‘I was just wondering … You don’t know if anyone could take me across the sound, do you? I want to see the Mælands.’

‘Oh, they were just here this morning, shopping.
Fru
Mæland and another woman.’ He scanned the room. ‘You could ask Hageberg over there. He’s got to go that way anyhow, and I saw he came by boat.’ He nodded towards a stocky man with grey hair and stubble. He was second in the queue, wearing full oilskins.

I thanked him, walked past the cash desk and stood waiting until Hageberg had paid for the items in his basket, mostly foodstuffs. He was a bit taken aback when I told him my name and repeated my question. But he nodded good-naturedly, shook hands and introduced himself as Hans Hageberg. ‘Of course I can take you across the sound. No problem.’ He eyed my outfit sceptically. ‘But you’re not exactly attired for the occasion.’

‘No, I’m aware of that.’

‘I’ve got an old rain cape in the boat. You can borrow it. Come on.’

I followed him to the pontoon, and he led me down to a small,
plastic boat with a curved windscreen and a wheel at the front, and no other mod cons except for a blue tarpaulin that could be pulled back to cover the driver’s seat and the closest seats behind.

Hageberg stepped on board and put his shopping in a large cooler bag on the floor before turning round, stretching out his hand and helping me on board. The light boat rocked beneath us, but balance was restored as soon as we sat down, him in the driver’s seat, me beside him.

‘Mæland, did you say? Yes, I know exactly where he lives. But … I read in the papers yesterday what happened. Afterwards we heard who the victim was. Do we know any more about what lay behind it?’

‘Not as far as I’m aware,’ I answered, which was the truth, at least if by ‘we’ he meant the police.

‘It was one hell of a story, if you’ll pardon my language.’

‘You can say that again.’

During the chat he had loosened the mooring ropes. ‘Right, let’s go. Hold on tight.’ He backed out from the pontoon and headed north through Radsund. With the southerly wind behind us we didn’t notice the waves much, apart from the occasional sudden jump.

As we turned into the quay beneath the red house we saw the same two boats as before. As well as the sea-going boat we had taken last time, there was a compact blue-and-white day cruiser with a powerful outboard motor, which I assumed belonged to Bjørn Brekkhus.

Hageberg slowed his speed and made an elegant turn into the side of the sea-going boat. ‘Will you grab it?’ he said to me. I stood up and grabbed the railing of the boat beside us. Hageberg stopped the engine, and I carefully pulled us towards the other vessel.

I looked up at the cabin. Karin had come out on the steps by the entrance and stood sheltered by the little porch. I waved up at her. She waved back.

‘They’re in anyway,’ Hageberg said.

I turned to him. ‘Thank you very much. That was very kind of you.’ I took off my rain cape and passed it to him.

‘If you need a lift back, just give me a buzz,’ he said and gave me
a business card, which was soon soaked in the rain. ‘You’ve got my mobile number there. I’ll be around for an hour or so, fishing.’

I put his business card in my inside pocket without looking at it. ‘I assume I’ll be able to get a lift back, but … once again, thank you for your help.’

He smiled. I clambered over into the big boat and from there up to the quay. Then I walked quickly up the path towards the cabin. Karin was waiting for me, with a slightly odd expression on her face, as though she was both flattered and also slightly irritated that I had turned up here …

I jogged in under the porch and gave her a hug.

She looked at me, gently stroked the scratches on my cheeks and the plaster on my forehead. ‘Thank God that was all it was!’

I nodded reassuringly. ‘I was lucky, but … I’ve been trying to ring you. You didn’t answer.’

She gave a resigned smile. ‘Yes. In my haste I left my mobile at home. But you could have rung Ranveig. She has hers …’

‘Yes, of course, but …’

She ogled me mischievously. ‘Was it so terrible being alone at the weekend.’

‘Well … I had to come here anyway. I wanted a little chat with Bjørn

Brekkhus.’

‘Oh, yes, in fact he’s here.’

‘Mm, his wife intimated he might be. When did he come?’

She shrugged. ‘Half an hour ago. Something like that. He’s been trying to get us to go fishing, but … in this weather …’

‘No, I wouldn’t have been tempted, either.’

‘We saw the boat from the window and wondered who it was. It was only when you moored that we saw it was you. Who was sitting next to you?’

‘A kind soul I met in the shop.’

‘We don’t have to stand here. Come in! I’m sure we can rustle you up a cup of coffee.’

She turned, opened the door and stepped in. I followed her.  

Ranveig Mæland and Bjørn Brekkhus were sitting at the low pine table, each with a cup of coffee in their hands. There was a third cup where Karin had been sitting. A candle had been lit in the mini-Viking ship, and several of the little lamps on the wall shone, a cosy contrast to the rain-swept atmosphere outside. Brekkhus had hung up his rain gear in the hall and was wearing a grey-and-black Icelandic jumper and green military fatigues. In his belt he had a sheath, from which protruded the red shaft of a knife. He was equipped for a fishing trip. Neither of them appeared to be jumping with joy at the sight of me.

‘I’ll find you a cup,’ Karin said, and went to the kitchenette, found a cup and poured some coffee in it from the Thermos flask. ‘Anyone else want a top-up?’

They both said yes.

Then I sat down at the scarred table as well. It struck me that we all had our own scars: Karin after Siren, Ranveig after Mons and Bjørn Brekkhus after one thing and another. I didn’t even want to think about mine.

‘What …?’ Ranveig began without completing the question.

‘I’ve just left your wife,’ I said, looking at Brekkhus. ‘But actually it was you I wanted to talk to.’

It could have been an absolutely normal Saturday morning chat in a cabin, a pleasant chat between old friends. But this wasn’t. This was something else. This, although none of us was aware of it, was the beginning of the end.

I should have kept my mouth shut of course. I should have waited until we were all safely back on the mainland. Or I should have rung Hamre first. At any rate, I should definitely have kept my mouth shut.

Brekkhus looked at me with that cold, appraising police stare of his. ‘And what was it you wanted to talk to me about?’

I glanced at Ranveig. ‘Would you like everyone to hear?’

Ranveig looked at him and then at Karin.

Karin said, without much conviction in her voice: ‘We can go for a stroll …’

‘I have nothing to hide. I don’t know what you want to talk about, Veum.’

I held his eyes. ‘No?’

He didn’t budge an inch. ‘No.’

I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have insisted that Karin went back to Bergen, phoned Hageberg and got him to pick us up. But I couldn’t resist.

‘We can start with the information you received from Kristoffer at the end of last week. About the payments Mons Mæland had been making four times a year since 1984 to an address in Sweden.’

‘Yes, what about it? Firstly, there was nothing I could do about it, being a pensioner. And secondly, the most likely reason was an outstanding demand, a loan on the black market. You know what it was like in the 80s. There were no limits to how you borrowed money.’

‘And you didn’t tie these payments to Lea Mæland’s disappearance two years previously?’

‘Again … this news came fourteen years too late, Veum. If we’d known this while the case was still active, but now …’

‘Stig Magnusson is the name of the recipient.’  

‘Yes, I …’

‘You had investigated that much then?’

He blushed. ‘Yes, that much, but no more.’

I glanced at Karin. She was quiet, listening. Then I turned to Ranveig. ‘You were also told this when Else and Kristoffer went to see you.’

She blinked. ‘Yes …’ Then she opened her eyes wide, as though it were only now she grasped what I had said. ‘You can have no idea of the allegations he made!’

‘Kristoffer?’

‘Yes … That Mons had hired … That we …’

‘Ranveig,’ Bjørn Brekkhus cautioned.

‘Is it any wonder that I’m having a breakdown? That I rang …?’ She glanced at Karin, and her eyes filled with tears.

I could still have chosen to keep my mouth shut. I could have stopped the conversation there and then, swallowed what they said, taken Karin with me and gone back to Bergen and left them to themselves and their thoughts. But I didn’t. I ploughed on relentlessly, as though I had some special vocation in life.

‘But you admitted, when Karin and I were with you at home that evening, that there was already a relationship between you and Mons … before Lea disappeared.’

She stared at me through tear-stained eyes. ‘Did I?
What
did I admit?’

‘You haven’t forgotten, have you? Perhaps it started with a slip of the tongue, but … you told us everything. That you were in a relationship with Mons and that he was going to tell Lea the weekend she disappeared. An alert police officer in such a situation would …’ Here I sent a fleeting glance at Brekkhus. ‘He would say you had a concrete motive for wanting her gone.’

‘You surely can’t mean to say that … But … I’ve told you before. Mons could never have done such a thing.’ Then in a weaker voice she added: ‘And nor could I.’

‘No, so maybe that’s why he contacted someone he had used before … in Sweden.’

‘No, no, no! That’s not true. It’s as I told you before.’ Then she seemed to pause to reflect, and added: ‘As far as I know anyway.’

‘As far as you know? He could have hidden it from you, you mean?’

She chewed her lip. ‘Yes, perhaps … yes, maybe.’

I turned back to Brekkhus. ‘Do you follow my thoughts? The motive is obvious? But … perhaps you were too close to Mons and Lea to see it clearly from outside. You should have declared yourself partial perhaps, from the very first moment?’

‘Partial! Investigating a missing person? What a fatuous thing to suggest!’

‘What about your relationship … with Lea?’

This time he blushed scarlet, and his mouth twisted into an ugly snarl: ‘Relationship! I didn’t have any bloody relationship with Lea!’

‘Your wife said …’

He rolled his eyes. ‘So it’s Lise … Her illness has gone to her head. She no longer has any control over her imagination.’

‘She said you were very taken by her. By Lea. Everyone could see it.’

‘Taken? Taken? … What’s that supposed to mean? I didn’t have any relationship with her. She was … the purest person I’d ever met. She was … and these two, Ranveig and Mons … They went behind her back.’

Ranveig sat with her head bowed, following him with her gaze. It was a gaze that came from deep, deep inside her, like the gaze of a whipped child, a cowed slave. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound emerged between her dry lips.

‘So, you reached the same conclusion?’

‘Yes … I confronted Mons with it.’

It happens almost every time. Every confrontation comes to a point when one person has said too much and there is no way back. And then it’s definitely too late. Then there’s no sense in holding back, for either of you.

‘You confronted him with it … Last Saturday maybe?’

His jaws moved soundlessly. I saw it in his eyes. He knew now. He had said too much. There was only one way to go. On.  

‘We agreed to meet … on the island.’ He looked out through the window.

‘At Hundvin?’

‘Yes?’ His eyes quizzed me.

‘The police found his car there.’

‘Oh …’

‘You didn’t know?’

‘No.’

‘Well … What did he say?’

‘He denied it! At first he said there hadn’t been any money transfers, but when I told him what Kristoffer had come to me with, and I discovered the man’s name, he gave … more or less the same explanation I gave you.’

‘A loan?’

He nodded.

‘But you didn’t believe him, did you.’

He looked in front of him, a week back in time. ‘Instead he went onto the … offensive.’

‘Physically speaking?’

‘Verbally at first. He … he told me not to go round bloody accusing him, me, when I was … If I thought he didn’t know, that he hadn’t realised …’ He watched Ranveig from the corner of his eye.

She was following closely, visibly swallowing, but she said nothing, only stared at him, as though everything he said was new to her too. And for all I knew it might have been.

I looked at Karin. Her mouth was half-open, but she didn’t seem to be as surprised as I had expected.

‘Now let’s get things straight,’ I said. ‘You never had a relationship with Lea, did you say?’

‘No, I didn’t, for Christ’s sake. She was … pure.’

‘Ranveig, on the other hand … Are we talking about the Madonna and the Whore syndrome here? You had no scruples about having a relationship with her, did you?’

‘No, she …’ I couldn’t quite interpret the look he sent her, but it
was a strange mixture of devotion and contempt.

I leaned forward. ‘I appreciate that you have a difficult situation at home, Brekkhus. No one could possibly have any problem under-standing … Even your wife understood. That you sought … solace … elsewhere.’

‘Solace!’ he snorted contemptuously.

‘Sex then.’

Ranveig rotated her head in a slow circling motion as though relaxing her neck muscles. Still she said nothing.

‘Perhaps we could come back to what happened in Hundvin …’

Brekkhus glowered at me. ‘He went for me. I had to … defend myself. I grabbed him round the throat. He kicked and punched. I had to hold him tighter. We ended up down by the water’s edge. I … I don’t know what came over me. I think, above all else, it must have been the fury at losing … Lea. He knew more than he’d ever told me. I held him tight with his head half under the water, gripping his throat … until he went … still. He probably drowned.’

I gently shook my head. ‘No, he was strangled. You killed him with your bare hands.’

‘Right! But it was self-defence.’

‘You’d better save that argument for your lawyer. What interests me most is what happened afterwards. How did he end up on the cross on Brennøy?’

He pinched his lips.

‘I’m happy to give you my interpretation, Brekkhus …’

I had their full attention now, not just his but that of the two women as well. ‘Allow me to assume the following scenario. You know you’ve sullied your hands, whatever explanation you might give. It’s … early Saturday evening? You have to get rid of the body. You can’t put it in his car. It would soon be found. You can tie something heavy round his legs and sink him in the sea, of course. But bodies like this always float to the surface in the end. The rope rots. The bodies rot. And they’re not necessarily carried away by the current. Down there, it’s not very strong. You have to do something with the body. My guess is you
choose another bay a safe distance from where the car was parked, and do exactly that. Pack him in plastic and sink him in the sea, tied to a weight as a temporary solution. Saturday evening, Ranveig rings and reports him missing. Did she know you two had arranged to meet?’

As he didn’t answer I addressed her. ‘Did you know?’

‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I suppose I didn’t want to know … Everything I’ve said is true. We had a disagreement, and Mons went on his way.’

‘Perhaps it wasn’t the wind farm you disagreed about though?’

She didn’t answer.

‘It could have been the situation that had arisen after he found out – or realised – that there was something between Bjørn and you?’

Still she said nothing.

‘You admit it? Bjørn didn’t object when I implied the same a few minutes ago.’

She looked at him with such hate-filled eyes that he had difficulty meeting them.

‘You repeated your exploits? Seventeen or eighteen years ago you had a relationship with Mons behind Lea’s – his wife’s – back. Now you’ve done the same behind Mons’ back. In a way, all one can say is that he got a taste of his own medicine. And perhaps the similarity between Lea’s fate and his own is even greater. Perhaps they both met their ends here: him by his friend’s hand and her by an unknown Swede’s …’

She nodded. Once again her eyes filled with tears. Now she didn’t even try to hold them back. They formed snail trails down her pale cheeks and collected under her chin, where they hung until they became too heavy and fell onto the front of her T-shirt.

I turned my attention back to Brekkhus. ‘You were frightened that Ranveig would have a nervous breakdown, that the relationship between you would be discovered and reveal that you had a motive to kill Mons if – or when – he was found. But you could see a different scenario, a different scapegoat. Which would force the police to concentrate their activities away from you. I think you knew most of what there was to know about Mons Mæland and Brennøy. You yourself
had been a witness to his purchase of the land. You knew about the confrontations between him and Kristoffer. Another thing: you knew, although no one else did, that he had another son on Brennøy …’

Ranveig raised her head and glared at me. I nodded to her and said: ‘Ole Rørdal.’

‘Ole Rørdal!’

‘It’s a long story, and perhaps it’s no longer important. The important thing was that the experienced policeman here knew exactly what information of this kind would tell detectives if they got wind of it. For him it was important to secure the body, make sure it was found quickly and made as spectacular an impression as possible. He knew about the cross of course. I imagine Mons must have told him about it while they were still friends. It had been there quite a while after all. And he went to sea at all hours. According to his wife, he could be away till late if the fish were biting …’

Brekkhus stared at me with dark eyes. ‘You have a lively imagination, Veum, I’ll give you that. Surely you don’t expect anyone to believe this rubbish?’

‘Imagination? Rubbish? You took Mons Mæland’s body, wrapped him in a tarpaulin and transported him to Brennøy. You approached from the uninhabited side, carried him ashore, tied the rope around him and strung him up on the cross. Afterwards you went home, late at night – if I am to believe your wife, and I think your former colleagues will, too. A couple of days later you went there and walked all over the crime scene so that you could spread confusion at any potential trial, if anyone found your footprints there. The fact that innocent people might come under suspicion for what you had done didn’t enter your head, even though there might have been immense political repercussions. But … I don’t suppose you’re a fan of wind power, either. Or was it the opposite? That you relished the thought of discrediting your opponents?’

I should have seen it coming, but I had been too preoccupied by my own tentative reconstruction of events. I should have noticed him tensing his legs beneath him and arching his back as he stared at me
with eyes that became darker and darker with every word I uttered. I should have noticed where he had his hand.

With a roar of suppressed anger he jumped up, his sheath knife in his right hand. In his left he held Karin, pulled her up from her chair, dragged her backwards, held her tight and pressed the blade against her throat. ‘Don’t move, Veum! Or I’ll kill her!’

Ranveig half-rose from her chair. ‘Bjørn! Don’t …’

‘Stay where you are! You, too!’

She slumped back down.

Karin stared at me, her eyes black with fear.

Inside me I felt a dull fury grow, a fury so violent it could make me do even more stupid things than I had already done.

I should have kept my mouth shut of course. Now all I could do was watch his every move as he dragged Karin to the door, the knife held to her throat, while he stared back without blinking, as if to ensure I did as he ordered.

Once he was out of the door I leaped to my feet. I looked at Ranveig. ‘Call the police! At once. Ask for Hamre if you can’t get anywhere. Tell him what’s going on.’

She nodded, fumbled for her phone on the window sill and began to press the keys blindly. ‘Wh-what’s the number?’

‘The emergency number. 112 for Christ’s sake.’

I dashed out. They were already halfway down to the quay. Neither of them was wearing a coat, and it was raining as hard as before.