Satellite People (25 page)

‘I knew Mona Varden through her sister, who was in my class in the final year at school. We got on well back then. Then one day we met on the street and, as I had no children of my own, I
was utterly charmed by hers. So I accepted her invitation to come in. I did not just turn up on her doorstep, and I knew nothing about the murder of her husband. In fact, I don’t think I ever
met him.’

I had nothing more to ask her. But then, all of a sudden, I did, when I saw both of her hands on the table and realized what it was that was different.

‘But tell me, what has happened to your first engagement ring, the one that you said you would never take off?’

My apparently harmless question triggered an unexpected reaction. Magdalena Schelderup sobbed and hid her face in her hands before answering.

‘I wish I knew myself. I was wearing it when I drove to Schelderup Hall for the reading of the will on Monday. There was so much drama there that I did not notice until I was back home
that I no longer had it on. The only explanation is that I took it off when I washed my hands in the bathroom before the will was read. I phoned immediately, but they claimed not to have found it
in either the bathroom or anywhere else. So I just hope that it will turn up again somewhere, but it seems less and less likely. I have no idea who has taken it, but I am sure that it was one of
the others who were there. They all hate me.’

I did not say anything. I had again hoped for an explanation but had instead uncovered another mystery. I remembered clearly that I had in fact noticed something odd about Magdalena’s
hands at the reading of the will. When I looked at her bony old hands without any rings on, they reminded me suddenly of an eagle’s claws.

‘I am so upset about it. I drove around all the pawnbrokers in the area today, but no one has offered them anything similar. They would hardly have got any money for it. But I would give
everything I have to get it back again. The ring is the only thing I have left from my love. Without it, I have nothing to show that we were ever together. For years I have had the notion that the
day the ring disappears, I am not long for this world. I am a lonely old lady now and I perhaps believe in fate and other supernatural phenomena more than you young people do today.’

We sat in silence following her outburst. She seemed to be very old and tired, and I just felt more bewildered. Magdalena Schelderup’s missing ring was yet another mystery within the
murder mystery. I promised her that I would keep my eyes peeled for the ring and would contact her immediately should it turn up.

She seemed to appreciate that and apologized as I left for being so emotional. New murders that unearthed old bodies were enough to rattle anyone’s nerves, she said. And it was easy enough
to believe her, especially when I heard the safety chain going on only seconds after she had closed the front door behind me.

Magdalena Schelderup was increasingly becoming the incarnation of a bitter, lonely old woman. But I had to admit that she still had a sharp mind and sharp tongue. And I was not at all sure that
she was not also a sharpshooter.

X

It was now half past six in the evening. The starter and main course had been eaten and the day’s events recounted. While we waited for the dessert to be served, Patricia
sat in silence with a look of deep concentration on her face.

‘I do not like this case in the least, no matter how interesting it is. We are getting closer to the heart of the mysteries from the war and the past few days, but the details are becoming
ever more alarming,’ she added after a pause.

‘The new letter . . .’

Her nod was very grave indeed.

‘That is one of the things I like least of all, yes. There may be a danger of more deaths. And what is more, the green pen mark on the envelope reinforces a terrible suspicion that I have
and sends a shiver down my spine, even though I am sitting indoors in May.’

She was quite literally shivering in her wheelchair.

‘The letter is extremely short and very like the previous one, but there is not much more to be learnt from it, other than that it is possibly the same person who carried out both murders,
or is there?’

To my astonishment, Patricia was already shaking her head.

‘This letter is very similar to the last one, but also very different. The same type of paper, the same type of envelope, the same type of stamp and the same type of typewriter. And both
contain the same pretty useless rhyming. But whereas the first is very detailed in content, the second is noticeably vague. No date, no details of the murder, not even the name of the latest
victim. There is nothing to indicate that the writer had even been to Leonard Schelderup’s flat. So it is best that we keep all options open for the moment.’

Beate came in with the dessert, which today was a delicious chocolate pudding with whipped cream. As usual, Patricia did not say anything while the maid was in the room, but then quickly carried
on as soon as we were alone.

‘The disappearance of the ring is also ominous, even though I do not believe in fate or other such superstitious nonsense. Either Magdalena Schelderup is lying about why the ring has
disappeared, or one of the others has taken it. Neither of which is accidental. So I am more or less certain that one of the parties involved now has the ring, and that he or she has a plan for it,
though I have not the faintest idea of what that might be. And the fact that I have not the foggiest about something I need to know is very unnerving indeed.’

The latter was said with an ironic smile. But Patricia was serious again as soon as I asked my next question.

‘What are your thoughts about Hans Herlofsen?’

‘A lot of what he says may be true, but I doubt that it is the whole truth. The pot of gold left to him in the will, though overshadowed by the three main bequests, has been bothering me.
It is not at all like Magdalon Schelderup to write off a debt as easily as that.’

I sent her a questioning look and she let out a patronizing sigh.

‘Let’s do a little thought experiment: you are Hans Herlofsen, you believe that Magdalon Schelderup was the Dark Prince, you owe him lots of money, you see that he is starting to get
old and you have no reason to expect any generosity from his wife and daughter. What would you do?’

I thought for a while and had to admit that she had a point.

‘First of all, I would hope for the best, but that would not appear to be very promising in the case of Magdalon Schelderup. So, the other alternative would be to confront him with
it.’

Patricia nodded.

‘Precisely – which is probably what I would do. Or discuss the case with Wendelboe, who I know Schelderup holds in awe. In fact, perhaps I would do both. Ask Wendelboe and Herlofsen
about it tomorrow. When you speak to Wendelboe, ask him detailed questions about his wife’s involvement too. I suspect that he comes from the old school who would rather not lie to the
police, but that he reserves the right not to say anything about things he is not asked about.’

‘The mysteries from the war, you mean?’

Patricia leaned forwards across the table.

‘We are discovering more and more interesting details and personal stories. It has been a very successful day in that way. Both Arild Bratberg and Mona Varden have been unable to move on
from events in the past and are thus human flies. But they are also satellite people. Mona Varden is still orbiting her husband, nearly thirty years after his death. Bratberg had a kind neighbour
who circled around him while he clearly was still caught in an outlying orbit around Magdalon Schelderup. And as far as the story from 1945 is concerned, I am surprised that no more attention was
given to one very interesting detail in court. Hint: in search of lost time . . .’

Now, I had heard the book title
In Search of Lost Time
, but I could not remember who had written it, or see its relevance here. Patricia waited with a teasing smile until I lost
patience and demanded that she give me an explanation.

‘It is incredible how often in court cases and investigations it is possible to overlook blatant problems in relation to time. It could be that there is not enough time for the given event
to take place, or the opposite: that there is too much time. As is the case here. Magdalon Schelderup’s account may appear to be plausible. But quite some time must have passed between him
waving to the policemen outside and them coming up the stairs and into the room; say half a minute, if not a whole minute. Which is a long time in a situation like that. The young Bratberg appeared
to be completely petrified. And yet they came in at the door just as Magdalon Schelderup took the gun from his hand. He would have needed nerves of steel to shout out of the window when he was
standing with an armed man who had just shot his colleague. But what is even more peculiar is that he took such a long time to take the murder weapon from the paralysed man. That may of course be
what happened, but it could not have happened in the way he described in his statement.’

It did seem strange that neither I nor anyone else had thought about this. Out loud I said that I would definitely have thought about it had I been investigating the case. Patricia did not look
convinced, so I moved swiftly on.

‘Whereas Arild Bratberg’s apparently insane statement . . .’

She responded on cue.

‘. . . given the time perspective, in fact works rather well, yes. It would seem that both the police and the court did not take the case seriously enough. The time issue is one thing.
Another is that no one seems to have had intelligence enough to imagine that in some situations, apparently irrational behaviour is in fact the most rational.’

I must have looked puzzled, as Patricia sighed with exasperation again.

‘Imagine the following situation: Ole Kristian Wiig and Magdalon Schelderup find something in the flat that constitutes a shocking revelation, and it would be a catastrophe for Magdalon
Schelderup if it ever got out. The only way to avoid this, then, is to shoot Wiig immediately before he can tell anyone. Schelderup knows that Bratberg is mentally fragile and that an unexpected
murder might paralyse him. But how then would he escape and prevent Bratberg bearing witness? If he shot Bratberg as well, he would clearly be guilty. What would you do?’

I eventually realized where she was going and had to admit that, true or not, it showed creative thinking.

‘What I would have done, before it was my word against his, was perhaps to make up a simple and credible story about the other person in the room being the murderer. And then also behave
madly myself in the hope that he would become even more confused and come across as the less credible of the two, even when he was telling the truth.’

Patricia nodded slowly in agreement.

‘Exactly. All of a sudden, the most irrational behaviour was the most rational. If that is in fact what happened, it demonstrates how terrifyingly quick-witted and cynical Magdalon
Schelderup could be. So I am working on the theory that Bratberg’s apparently incredible account is true and that it was Magdalon Schelderup who shot all three Resistance men during the
war.’

I had seen it coming now and was therefore not so surprised when Patricia dropped the bombshell that Magdalon Schelderup himself was the Dark Prince. The idea that the Resistance hero Magdalon
Schelderup could also be a double agent and triple murderer now seemed plausible. But I was yet to be fully convinced.

‘The way you present it now, it all seems very plausible. But I would still like to keep the option open for the moment that it might have been one of the others, most probably either Hans
Herlofsen or Magdalena Schelderup. Because that is equally possible, is it not?’

Patricia nodded somewhat reluctantly.

‘I don’t think that it is very likely, but yes, it is absolutely possible.’

‘And if we move on from the war to the murder of Magdalon Schelderup . . .’

Patricia nodded, this time in clear agreement. Then she carried on herself.

‘. . . then all options are still open, yes. However, if my theory is correct, it does not rule out that Hans Herlofsen or Magdalena Schelderup, for example, murdered Magdalon Schelderup.
Thus far we do not know enough to rule out even one of his guests. They all have or could have strong motives, and the motives simply multiply and get stronger if he did commit one or more murders
during the war. The real challenge . . .’

I had an inkling of what was coming, but it was unexpectedly fast and concise when it came.

‘. . . is not to explain why anyone killed Magdalon Schelderup, because everyone around that table might have wanted to do it. The real challenge is still to explain why anyone would kill
Leonard Schelderup. And also why in the world the gun was left by the front door.’

I nodded.

‘Well, the mystery of the guest has been solved, at least. It would seem that you were right, that it has nothing to do with the murder.’

Patricia sat deep in thought again. It was obvious that she was struggling and more preoccupied with the murder of Leonard Schelderup.

‘Leonard Schelderup’s male lover definitely had nothing to do with the murder. The fact that Leonard Schelderup had a male lover may, however, be of some interest. I would be keen to
know how much his father and brother knew. Do ask the brother about it next time you see him. But there is one thing that puzzles me, in connection with the will.. .’

She hesitated a moment, but then continued.

‘It may be of no significance, but it is worth noting. In the first will, Leonard Schelderup was left ten times as much as his brother. In the second, they were equal. It would seem that
something had happened to improve Fredrik’s standing. So I would like to know whether Magdalon knew about Leonard’s secret and, if so, when he found out.’

I promised to do my best to find out. My visits to Patricia had a tendency to result in both important new conclusions and new tasks.

She stopped me unexpectedly for a moment as I was about to go out of the door. When I turned around, her face was sombre and pale.