The Catalyst Killing (K2 and Patricia series Book 3) (13 page)

She fell silent and chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of salmon.

‘And would you perhaps like to share what these two alternatives might be?’

Patricia’s smile was sugar-sweet.

‘Of course. I apologize, but I thought that would be quite obvious to you too. Falko could have sneaked out down the hall. But given that the door to the next room was ajar, and both the people who were in there were awake, the theory doesn’t quite work unless Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen and Kristine Larsen are both lying to cover for him – which is not entirely unfeasible. If they are not, though, that leaves only one possibility, and it is the one that I have always thought to be true.’

Patricia was obviously still more than happy to make fun of me. She demonstratively refrained from saying anything more until I asked.

‘So, according to this theory, how did Falko Reinhardt leave the cabin without the other five noticing, if he used neither the window nor the door?’

Her smile was teasing and she was clearly enjoying the situation.

‘According to the theory, he didn’t!’ she said, with her smuggest smile.

I glowered back. Patricia realized she was on dangerous ground and quickly changed her tone.

‘That is to say, he did of course leave the cabin at one point or another. But not while the other five were there, or between midnight and two o’clock in the morning. According to this theory, he hid himself away somewhere in the bedroom once his fiancée had fallen asleep and stayed there until the others left the cabin. Then he walked calmly out the door. And in that case, it is highly probable that he was the very person Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen claims to have seen making his way through the storm in the opposite direction shortly after.’

I had not for one moment thought about this possibility, but had to admit that it did not seem completely implausible.

‘We are missing a link in the form of a hiding place in the bedroom. It certainly does not sound entirely unreasonable, and is worth investigating as a possibility.’

Patricia nodded vigorously.

‘I realize that this may sound a bit odd. But soon it will be the unlikely that is most likely here, as what is most likely has proved to be not possible. It is becoming increasingly clear that a trip to Valdres tomorrow would be very sensible indeed. By coincidence, of course. But it is in fact a good idea.’

I accepted the compliment and nodded quickly in agreement.

‘In that case, perhaps I should take a guide with me? I would manage to find the cabin on my own, I’m sure, but would have no idea of who was in which room and what happened where . . .’

Patricia kept a poker face to begin with. After a short pause, she nodded in agreement.

‘It could of course be useful. The most obvious person would be Trond Ibsen, or perhaps Kristine Larsen?’

Despite the gravity of the investigation, I relished the situation and smiled a little to myself before carrying on.

‘Both are certainly suitable candidates. However, I had thought of asking Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen first. It may be an advantage that she is someone who is no longer in the group, and more importantly, she is the one who claimed to have made these observations that night.’

Patricia had lost, and knew it. There were no good arguments against Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen, as she had already accepted that it would be good to have a witness with me from that stormy night.

Patricia swallowed hard a couple of times, left what remained of the salmon on her plate and drank the water in her glass. Then she accepted with grace and shook her head thoughtfully.

‘I would have thought she might not have time for such a long trip, given the amount she studies and works. And it is quite novel to take a guide with you who has no sense of direction. But goodness, it is up to you who you ask.’

She was soon on the offensive again, and leaned across the table in a manner that could be seen as aggressive.

‘If Miss Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen accompanies you to Valdres, you might try to tease out of her on the way why Kristine Larsen slept with the door ajar, and why Miriam herself was lying awake but with her eyes closed on the night that Falko disappeared. And in that context, please ask her about a detail I find unusually irritating, as I am very interested to see what she remembers. Kristine Larsen had wanted to leave the door ajar the night before as well; but was the door still open when Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen woke up the next morning?’

I immediately thought that this could only mean one thing. And that I still had no idea what that might be. Patricia had asked me apparently inexplicable questions about tiny details on several occasions previously, and these had always proved to be critical. I looked at Patricia, puzzled, and she for some reason suddenly looked irritated.

‘I am allergic to strange details in murder investigations – and the bedroom door is one such detail. And what is more, these days it would be as good as a medical sensation if a group of three young men and three young women managed to survive for several years without any secret liaisons or at least some jealousy. So there may be more than a couple of skeletons under the mattress!’

The latter was not an expression I could remember having heard before. I sent Patricia a sharp look and asked which mattress she was referring to, if that was the case. Patricia gave a disapproving shrug, which I took to be a good sign.

‘Well, we should not indulge in pure speculation. But the detail with the door is a tiny mystery within the mystery, which may prove to be of greater significance in solving the case than I imagine at the moment.’

I resisted the temptation to ask Patricia how much significance she thought it might have. Instead I asked her whether she had anything more to tell me about Falko’s disappearance. To my astonishment, she nodded.

‘The picture is becoming clearer. Regardless of how Falko managed to get out of the cabin, he left of his own will. In fact, there is much to indicate that it had been planned for some time. Add to that his egocentric personality and the suggestions of an imminent attack, and I don’t like the outcome.’

I looked at Patricia askance, and she sighed heavily. Her mood seemed to have plummeted even further.

‘Hmm, I am going to have to ask Beate for an extra teaspoon soon. Well, we are talking about a gifted only child who was worshipped and photographed by his parents every day as he grew up. He was naturally the life and soul of any gathering, liked to maximize the attention and seems to have had great faith in his own abilities. He was publicly known, though not as famous and successful outside his circle as he perhaps wanted to be. Imagine for a moment that you were someone like that, and that you had heard rumours about a planned future attack. And you feared that the person or persons planning this might pose a threat to you in the period prior to the attack. What would you do?’

Now I suddenly understood what she meant. I nodded in agreement.

‘I might well consider arranging to disappear, thus ensuring my own safety while retaining the ability to gauge the situation regarding the planned attack. And then, when the time was right, come back and save the day.’

Patricia nodded, but there was still no trace of a smile.

‘I think there is more and more to indicate that that is what happened. A man who was as resourceful as Falko could of course have secured a cover identity and financial means to live in another part of Norway – or countless other countries. So the fact that he might have gone under cover for two years is in itself not hard to accept. On the other hand . . .’

My eyes were trained on her in anticipation.

‘. . . On the other hand, it is something of a mystery why he has remained under cover for so long, and, it would seem, kept his parents in the dark. I see no other explanation than that he expected something major and dramatic to happen.’

My focus sharpened.

‘But if your theory is right, and Falko is once again out there on the streets of Oslo somewhere . . .’

Patricia nodded gravely and finished my sentence.

‘. . . then we can expect a large explosion of one sort or another soon. And if that is the case, we have no idea where or when things will explode.’

Patricia appeared to be deeply uneasy about the situation.

She twitched nervously in her wheelchair while the maid cleared the dinner plates and served ice cream for dessert. In the meantime, I was able to consider the situation in more detail.

‘And in that case, it may in some way be connected to the death of Marie Morgenstierne. But whatever the case, we have not come any closer to solving the murder today, have we?’

Patricia responded with a sullen shake of the head. She showed no interest in eating her ice cream.

‘No, you could hardly say that. It is both striking and rather unnerving that none of the witnesses who were walking behind her have come forward. I have at least six possible explanations in my head, but lack the information either to confirm or reject any of them. We will just have to wait and see what you get out of the security service tomorrow, and what your trip to Valdres might bring.’

I took the hint and stood up.

‘You are of course welcome to come for supper tomorrow evening. But if you take Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen with you to Valdres, remember to drop her off well before you come here.’

I smiled and assured her that I would remember to do that. Patricia’s mouth smiled back, but not her eyes.

I quickly thanked her for the evening. It had given us both a lot to think about. The ice cream was left half-eaten in my bowl, and untouched in hers.

XI

From time to time it still worried me that the professor and company director Ragnar Sverre Borchmann might feel some resentment towards me as a result of the stress and danger that my first murder investigation had entailed for his daughter. It was also possible that he might have heard about my late and hasty retreat at the end of my second murder case, and hold that against me too.

On my way out I therefore remarked to the maid, Beate, that I had not had the pleasure of meeting the man himself this time. I had noticed that the maid simply called him ‘the director’. It was no doubt a far grander title to her ear than professor.

She promptly told me that the director was away, and for ‘business reasons and the like’ it was all very hush-hush where he was, and why he was there.

I gave a complicit nod when she said this. Borchmann’s business empire was so extensive that he could be away on all sorts of business in any number of places both within the country and abroad, and I had more than enough to think about already without speculating on his whereabouts.

I therefore said that I wished the director and his business well, wherever he was in the world and whatever he was doing. Beate replied that they all did, and that he was after all not so very far away. The director telephoned his daughter every evening and had said how glad he was to hear that I had come by.

I heaved a sigh of relief, thanked her and asked her to pass on my best wishes should she have the opportunity. She assured me that she would do her best.

XII

It was eight o’clock in the evening by the time I got home to my flat in Hegdehaugen. I would never have guessed that I would one day call the SPP party office from my own home. But I did it now with pleasure and excitement.

The telephone in the party office was answered after four rings and to my relief it was Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen herself who answered. After the solemn atmosphere at the end of my visit to Patricia, it was a delight to hear such a happy voice – particularly as it sounded even happier when she heard it was me, and that I was calling about the murder investigation.

She asked if the fact that I was calling meant that there had been new developments in the investigation. I replied that there had been some progress, but that regrettably I could not tell her anything more right now. But I added that I needed a guide for a trip to Valdres in the morning, and that perhaps I could tell her a little more then, if she was willing to volunteer to come with me.

There was silence at the other end of the line for a moment. A breathless silence.

I hastily said that she could of course take a book or two with her, and there would undoubtedly be time to read on the journey. And that it could be of considerable importance to the investigation.

She answered slowly that a murder investigation sounded interesting, and that Valdres was a beautiful place that she knew well. She should be able to take the day off from her studies, given that it was a Saturday and that she still had three months to get through the reading list for her only exam that autumn. As far as the party office was concerned, it might not be so easy, as there were more papers to be sorted than usual.

I immediately promised that she would be back by half past five, and that I would drive her straight to the office on our return from Valdres.

Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen let out a peculiar peal of laughter, and said that it would perhaps be better for her career in the party if she was dropped a couple of blocks away, given that it was a police car – but that she would, on that condition, be able to come. We agreed that I would pick her up outside Sogn Halls of Residence at half past eight the following morning. Then we put the phone down at almost the same time – and, it seemed, in equally good spirits.

XIII

It was only a few minutes after I had finished the conversation with Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen that it struck me that I should perhaps also check whether the farmer, Henry Alfred Lien, would be there. Directory enquiries were able to give me his number. He answered the telephone when I rang, but was not particularly friendly. His voice was monotone, hard and serious; it sounded as if he had not laughed since 1945.

I explained my errand, assured him that he was not a suspect in any way, but said that I hoped that he would be able to answer a few questions tomorrow in connection with the disappearance of Falko Reinhardt and the death of Marie Morgenstierne.