The Consorts of Death (16 page)

‘Just a mo.’ I heard her flicking through a telephone book, and straight after I got the number, which I jotted down in my notebook.

‘Thanks. I’ll ring you back in an hour or so to find out if you’ve tracked her down.’

We finished the conversation and I rustled together some more coins to phone Hans Haavik. He was still at the child reception centre in Åsane, but when I got through he wasn’t available. ‘He’s in Førde,’ a colleague of his told me. ‘He left as soon as he was told.’

‘Told what?’

‘I’m not sure I can say.’

‘Never mind. I know what it’s about. I’m in Førde myself. You don’t know where he’s staying, do you?’

‘He must be in one of the hotels there.’

‘OK. I’ll find him then. Bye.’

I came out of the telephone box. The low-lying cloud seemed to have advanced even closer. I was in the semi-dark in the middle of the day. It looked as if it wouldn’t be long before it rained again.

I went back to the police offices and asked if Grethe Mellingen was there. The officer behind the counter could confirm that she was, and after a little to-ing and fro-ing I was allowed inside.

Grethe got up off a chair and smiled. ‘Varg …’ She came towards me and put her arms around my neck. ‘Good to see you.’

‘You, too. How’s it going?’

She stood close to me, so close that I had problems focusing my eyes. ‘She’s being questioned now, accompanied by her solicitor.’

‘Yes, I heard someone had been appointed for her. Is she
sticking
to her statement?’

‘I think so.’

‘And her parents?’

‘They’re being interviewed in a different office.’

‘All systems go, I can see. Tell me … how was the night?’

‘The little that was left, you mean?’

She pulled an ironic smile. Her face was drawn and pale. She hadn’t put on any make-up, and her eyebrows looked light and blonde. Her lips were dry with narrow cracks in them, her hair still tangled after the rain.

‘Well, I was given a sofa and a rug at Almelid Farm. The
sergeant
insisted I stayed with her, in case of any crises. But there wasn’t anything. I dozed off for about half an hour, or that was how it felt anyway, but we had a tough job getting Silje out of bed. She refused point-blank. That was why we were so late arriving here.’

‘And her parents? How did they take it?’

‘They’re in shock, pretty much. You can imagine. As if it wasn’t bad enough hearing that Klaus Libakk and his wife had been
brutally
murdered, then they had to hear what Silje had said … They didn’t seem to take it in, they seemed to be in denial.’

‘But …’

‘And there’s one more thing you should know, Varg.’

‘Mm?’

‘Silje is not their daughter by birth. She’s adopted, too.’

‘What!’

‘Yes.’ She nodded several times, as if underlining what she had said.

‘So … she and Jan Egil are in the same boat, in a way.’

‘In more ways than one, I’m afraid.’

I studied her, waiting. ‘In which ways then?’

‘Her real father was killed … it must have been ten or eleven years ago. A row connected with some contraband case. Alcohol.’

A memory stirred faintly. ‘And his name was?’

‘Ansgår Tveiten.’

She met my gaze. ‘Does the name ring a bell?’ she asked.

‘I’m afraid so. It certainly complicates the picture a bit further.’

‘Do you remember the case?’

‘No, but I was told about it, in the briefest of outlines, ten years ago.’

‘In what connection?’

‘Believe it or not, it was in fact to do with Jan Egil.’

Now her jaw was the one to drop. ‘What! Tell me …’

I had to ransack my brain. ‘If I remember correctly, it was something to do with Ansgår Tveiten being killed somewhere round here.’

She nodded. ‘It was near Bygstad, at the far end of Dals fjord. He was found by the water’s edge, half-dragged under an old boat-house.’

‘In 1973, I think it was.’

‘Could well be right. But the case was never solved. It was obviously quickly written off as the settling of a score inside the
province’s
criminal fraternity.’

‘Right. The main suspect, however, was supposed to have been a hard nut from Bergen. Someone by the name of Terje
Hammersten
. The name mean anything to you?’

‘No.’

‘He was Tveiten’s brother-in-law.’

‘Really?’

‘Tveiten was married to his sister. I don’t recall her name, but I can find out.’

‘Trude,’ she said. ‘Silje’s mother.’

‘My God! Are there any other connections? Where is this Trude now?’

‘I believe she lives in Dale. That was the last I heard of her. She’s supposed to have recovered, so they say, but there was never any talk of Silje going back … there.’

‘No?’

‘No. She never made a move in that direction, either. I mean … when her husband was killed, Silje was five years old and at that time Trude was totally unfit to take care of her.’

‘A strange coincidence.’

‘What’s on your mind now?’

‘Listen. This Terje Hammersten, in both 1970 and 1974 he was sort of living with Jan Egil’s mother. His real mother. Furthermore, he’s Silje’s uncle, who was under suspicion of killing her father.’

‘Yes, and so what?’

‘In 1974 Jan Egil’s foster mother, Vibecke Skarnes, was
sentenced
to two and a half years’ imprisonment for having pushed her husband down a staircase during a row. She’s been out for ages now.’

‘But has this Terje Hammersten got anything to do with that case?’

‘Not at all, as far as I know.’

She looked at me in desperation. ‘Now you’ve got me
completely
confused, Varg!’

‘Yes, but I can console you with the fact that I am no less confused myself. Now what I wanted to say was this … These two children, with their parallel fates, each end up on a farm in Angedalen … and today, at the police station here in Førde, where Jan Egil, from what I can see, is being charged with murder …’

‘But … do you think there’s some connection between all these events in Bygstad, Bergen and now Angedalen?’

‘For the time being I don’t think anything. But there are a
conspicuous
number of tangents meeting here, and the clearest of them all is Terje Hammersten.’

‘Right …’ She splayed open her arms. ‘Then I think you should tell the sergeant that.’

‘That’s what I’ve been thinking of doing, as soon as I’ve got my head straight.’

We sat in silence for a while. Then I changed the topic. ‘But turning to you … I think the sergeant addressed you as
fru
…’

She smirked again. ‘Yes, I suppose he did.’ After a short pause she added: ‘But I’m not any longer, even though I’ve kept the surname.’

I nodded. ‘Then we’re in the same boat, too. Unless there was anything more dramatic than a divorce?’

‘Not at all! No brutal death on my farm, Varg.’

She didn’t say any more, and I didn’t ask. From reception I heard a voice I recognised. Soon afterwards Hans Haavik joined us.

I hadn’t seen him for some years, and he had put on a few more kilos. Otherwise he was the same, though in a somewhat
emotional
state. ‘Hi, Varg … Grethe …’ He shook hands with me, and Grethe received a hug. Then he fixed his eyes on me. ‘This is one hell of a situation, isn’t it. Have you any idea what happened?’

I shook my head. ‘Nothing beyond the facts as they appear.’

‘And they are …?’

‘Well, I don’t know much more than what’s in the papers. But I went with them to get Johnny boy – Jan Egil – down from the mountain last night. For some reason it was me he had asked to talk to.’

He grimaced and nodded. ‘He must have had positive
memories
of you from the last time. I came as fast as I could after Grethe called me yesterday. But the worst thing of all, do you know what that is?’

‘No.’

‘I was here last weekend and visited them. I’m going to be regarded as a bloody witness in the case.’

‘You visited them?’

‘Yes. I don’t know if you remember, but Klaus was in fact my second cousin. I’ve always kept in touch with them. I’ve
followed
Jan Egil year on year, and it’s been a pleasure to observe his behaviour.’

I hurled my arms in the air. ‘And there was I … imagining I would have to travel round the district to make enquiries, but here we have the main man in our very midst. Come on!’

‘Well, what should I say? There was nothing to suggest that there was anything brewing. As you know, it was me who arranged for Klaus and Kari to take him, but you can imagine what I think about that idea now!’

‘Yes, but no one could guess that something like this would happen.’

‘No, and he settled in quickly here. I’m sure you remember. I brought him here myself, in September that year. Later I popped by at least once every six months, even more often in the first years, to see how things were developing. And it was all positive. Of course, it could be pretty isolated here, especially in the winter, and there weren’t that many children of his age around, either. But after a while a girl turned up in one of the neighbouring farms, and of course there were a few others, too. After he started school. But … well, I won’t hide the fact that he was a struggle for them. Klaus and Kari, I mean. He was a restless fellow. Hyperactive you would call him nowadays, with huge emotional problems. Not much surprise, of course, with the trauma in his past, both from the children’s home, if we can use such a sophisticated term for it, and from – well, you know. But it got better bit by bit, and now he had started upper school, a year behind, chosen his career path. Electronics, if I’m not mistaken.’

‘And so you visited them that weekend?’

‘Yes, I drove here on Friday after work and returned on Sunday night. I hadn’t been here since around Easter time, but I finally pulled myself together and, well …’ He opened his palms. ‘I’m glad I did now. In fact it was the last time I saw them. Kari and Klaus.’

‘And you didn’t notice any cause for unease, an atmosphere?’

‘No. Nothing.’

‘Did you spend the night there?’

‘Yes, I always did. The only thing I can say … Jan Egil was hardly there at all. He came home on Friday evening, but then he stayed in his room as soon as we’d eaten. Said he was busy with something. On Saturday he went to a party and didn’t come home until late. I heard him climbing the stairs.’

‘Party?’

‘Yes. At the youth club. Nothing more than that, I believe.’

‘And on Sunday?’

‘He had a long lie-in. Until twelve o’clock. After we’d eaten he was off again. But this time he went out. He was going to Silje’s, he said.’

‘On Sunday afternoon?’

‘Yes. And I didn’t see any more of him. I left at about eight, not to get back home too late, and by then he hadn’t returned. You can imagine the shock I had when Grethe rang me on Tuesday and told me …’

‘Yes, same here. But … did you see anything of Silje that weekend?’

‘Nothing at all.’

‘What’s the relationship between her and Jan Egil? Are they sweethearts?’

He rocked his head back and shrugged. ‘Possible. They’ve played together since they were very small. They went to school together, if not in the same streams. You’ll have to ask …’ He caught himself, and I knew what he had been going to say. We couldn’t ask Klaus or Kari any more, though.

‘Do you know that she …?’ I stopped myself in the middle. As Hans Haavik had said himself it looked as though he was going to be a witness, and in that event it would be wrong of me to say too much. Instead I expressed myself as neutrally as possible. ‘This cousin of yours … what sort of person was he?’

‘Hmm, what can I say? They were very ordinary people, both Kari and Klaus. They ran their farm, and Kari did her night shifts at the central hospital here in Førde as a state registered nurse.’

‘Night shifts?’

‘That was the best way of combining work with the farm.’

‘What kind of farming was it?’

‘They had sheep, cows, calves, bit of fruit and berries. Milk
subsidies
were important, goes without saying. But they made ends meet. Why are we talking about this actually?’

‘So Klaus and Jan Egil were often alone then? At night, I mean.’

He gave me an old-fashioned look. ‘I hope you’re not
insinuating
what I think you are, Varg?’

‘I’m not insinuating anything at all. But my experience is that very few murders take place without some kind of motive and …’

He interrupted me. ‘Oh yes! You don’t need to expand. I’ve got the point. But does that explain why he killed Kari, too?’

‘No. It’s difficult to understand. Almost incomprehensible. But that’s precisely why … there must have been some strong
emotions
under the surface.’

He sighed aloud and cast around desperately. ‘Well, I don’t know.’ He looked at Grethe. ‘Have you any ideas?’

She shook her head. ‘None, Hans. None at all.’

We sat in silence. I looked at my watch and stood up. ‘Excuse me for a moment. I just have to see if I can make a call.’

I went into reception, and, with extreme reluctance, the officer let me use his telephone. ‘Make it snappy though!’ he added with a stern glare.

I dialled Cecilie’s number. When she answered, I said,
half-turning
to the officer: ‘We have to be quick – did you find anything?’

‘You won’t believe it, Varg.’

I felt a stabbing pain in my stomach region. ‘Try me.’

‘Mette Olsen moved two years ago from Bergen to Sunnfjord.’

‘To Sunnfjord!’

The policeman sent me a patronising look as though I didn’t know where it was.

‘Apparently to a disused farm belonging to the family.’

‘Yes, everyone has a brother or a sister living in the Sunnfjord district, we all know that. Whereabouts?’

‘It’s in Jølster. I’ve got hold of a detailed description. The farm’s called Leitet and is situated by Kjøsnes fjord. You turn off the main road at a place called Sunde.’