The Catalyst Killing (K2 and Patricia series Book 3) (18 page)

IX

‘Well, did you get anything out of that?’

Patricia nodded and rubbed her hands.

‘Yes, absolutely. Lots of interesting things. What did you think was most important?’

This question put me in an awkward position, as I had not immediately recognized that the tape contained anything important to the murder investigation. There was nothing in the recording to indicate that there was any conflict between Marie Morgenstierne and the others, or that her life was in danger. So I mumbled that the ending was quite interesting, but it gave no reason to believe that she had any idea of the danger that waited outside. If that had been the case, she would obviously have accepted the offer of a lift to the station. It was strange to think now how different the story might have been, had she accepted.

Patricia nodded impatiently.

‘But it was hardly accidental, and it is also odd that Marie Morgenstierne lied about having plenty of time to catch the train. And then proceeded to walk slowly, even though she should really have got a move on if she was going to catch it. It is clear that she did not want to go with Trond Ibsen – without us yet being able to say anything as to why. Otherwise, the others in the group appear to have given a pretty truthful account of the meeting. And even though there does not appear to be any open conflict, one can detect an obvious tension between Anders Pettersen’s principled, sectarian line and Trond Ibsen’s more pragmatic approach. Marie Morgenstierne consistently supports Anders and goes against Trond, as does Kristine Larsen. So there may be some opposition, even suspicion, levelled at Trond Ibsen. But there are many other interesting things here as well. There is something that Kristine Larsen does that Marie Morgenstierne does not, even though they always seem to concur.’

I thought furiously, but looked at Patricia in desperation.

She let out a heavy sigh.

‘Dear detective inspector . . . it is perfectly possible to hear that right from the start it is Kristine who constantly talks about Falko, and expresses her hope and belief that he will come back. Given that Marie is Falko’s fiancée, she is remarkably defensive and almost sceptical.’

We were interrupted by the maid, who cautiously knocked on the door and popped her head round to ask if we wanted dessert. Patricia replied ‘yes, please’, but drummed her fingers so impatiently on the table that the maid served our apple cake and ice cream in great haste before almost running out of the room with the dinner plates.

Patricia mumbled something about the maid moving slower and slower while time was passing faster and faster. When the door had closed, she immediately turned back to the case.

‘It could of course be a psychological mechanism, in which case Trond Ibsen would no doubt be able to tell us more. But based on what we have just heard, it is reasonable to believe that Kristine Larsen’s desire for Falko to come back was stronger than Marie Morgenstierne’s.’

I had now had the time I needed to link the two things together, and nodded in agreement. ‘And that would tie in very well with what Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen told me earlier today.’

Patricia’s acknowledgement was serious.

‘Yes, young Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen was already sharing gossip about a friend with the police before she claimed to have qualms about sharing gossip about friends with the police. But what she said was reasonable enough and certainly fits. Falko Reinhardt clearly had unlimited confidence in his own magnificence and was enjoying himself with Kristine Larsen only hours before his planned disappearance.

She was obviously in love with him. And the recording from the meeting reinforces the idea that she still is. Thus here there are signs of a possible conflict between the two. Given the picture that is emerging, I think you should confront Kristine Larsen with this as soon as possible, and see if she wants to change her statement.’

I gave a quick nod.

‘So it seems increasingly likely that my guess is correct – that the woman behind Marie Morgenstierne who called out to her was Kristine Larsen?’

Patricia shook her head, looking pensive and rather disapproving.

‘Yes, that would seem to be a reasonable assumption. But: one, we still do not know for sure. And two, even if Kristine Larsen was the woman behind Marie Morgenstierne on the road to Smestad station, that does not prove in any way that it was she who shot Marie Morgenstierne. And there is nothing here to rule out that any of the others is the murderer. Trond Ibsen could easy have driven around in his car and been waiting on one of the side roads. Anders Pettersen could have done the same on his bike. Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen, who clearly knew about Falko’s infidelity, could, for all we know, have been anywhere around there. And the same is true of Falko himself.’

Patricia continued.

‘Now that we can confirm that Falko’s disappearance from the cabin was voluntary and well planned, there is much to indicate that he is still out there somewhere. But unfortunately I lack the information to say any more.’

I voiced my understanding and concluded that my next visit should be to Kristine Larsen.

Patricia nodded, as she pointed at the stereo player.

‘By all means, but the security police question should also be followed up. I do not trust them at all, and I am curious as to how they got such a good recording from the meeting so fast. I have a theory about how it might all link up. But there is a danger that Asle Bryne will not answer if you ask how he got the tape.’

I could only too well imagine that Asle Bryne would not answer that, and said so.

Patricia let out a heavy sigh.

‘My theory is therefore far too weak to be used as the basis for any confrontation. So we will have to test the security police procedures and send the tape to be fingerprinted. And otherwise hope that new information will crop up that can help to explain this side of the case.’

I looked at Patricia. Her eyes met mine without turning away – or blinking.

‘I do not leave any stone unturned in the hunt for a murderer. And you should not either. I think that one of the four who were at the meeting made the recording at some point. And I would dearly like to know which one of them it was. It could be of crucial importance to the motives in this case.’

I concurred, and promised to have the tape checked. Then, in conclusion, I asked about the strange story from Valdres. Patricia grew pensive and sighed again.

‘Let’s wait and see what young Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen finds out about the date. But if she is right, it is too incredible to be a coincidence. Henry Alfred Lien also said several very interesting things that are starting to make me think there is a link with Falko Reinhardt’s disappearance. But I can’t be sure yet, and any connection to the murder of Marie Morgenstierne is still unclear. Send the tape to be checked for fingerprints, and in the meantime, pay Kristine Larsen another visit; and then talk, if necessary, to the rest of the group. Contact me immediately when you have anything new to tell, whether late this evening or early tomorrow morning. I will in the meantime ruminate on both things and any possible connections between the two.’

I noted with some surprise that Patricia was happy to talk about possible links between Falko Reinhardt’s disappearance and the murder of his fiancée. Then I retired in order to continue the investigation.

X

I made a pit stop at the police station and sent the tape off for a forensic check. I reminded the laboratory of the strict confidentiality clause and that they should report directly to me. There was fortunately no kind of marking on the tape that might link it to the police security service.

It was half past eight by the time I got back into the car. But I was increasingly keen to get on with the case, so having started in the direction of Hegdehaugen, I then turned off and headed towards Smestad.

The theory that the relationship between Marie Morgenstierne and Kristine Larsen was tainted by jealousy was of increasing interest, especially now that there was more to indicate that Falko was still alive. It was not hard to imagine that Kristine Larsen might have been behind both the written threat and the murder, particularly if she had been the woman following behind Marie Morgenstierne. Whatever the case, I wanted to hear what possible explanation Kristine Larsen would give of her relationship with Falko Reinhardt as soon as possible.

I arrived at Smestad at just the right moment, at five to nine. There was no response when I rang on Kristine Larsen’s doorbell. But when I turned my head I saw her on the other side of the road, apparently ambling along.

‘Kristine!’ I called over to her.

I immediately thought that I should perhaps not have shouted. But her reaction made me forget everything else.

Kristine Larsen froze.

For a brief moment she stood like a statue on the pavement.

Then she turned on her heel and ran off in the opposite direction, at ridiculous speed. It crossed my mind that she was running in the same direction that Marie Morgenstierne had run. She was running towards the station.

I also stood paralysed for a few seconds before I pulled myself together and started to run after her. To my surprise I did not seem to be able to catch up at first. Kristine Larsen had a good start on me, and her long legs carried her remarkably fast.

Kristine Larsen did not look back once. She just ran and ran and ran. She hurtled down the road at terrific speed, without even slowing down when she reached the crossroads. Fortunately the drivers were able to stop in time and stayed there, astounded, until I was well clear myself.

It was only when I was halfway over the crossing that I realized that Kristine Larsen was now running in blind panic.

For the rest of the chase, I did not doubt for a moment that I was pursuing a murderer. The prospect of solving the case and my hunting instinct helped me to pick up pace. And even though I was now close to my limit, I still had not closed the distance before reaching the crossroads. But then a couple of hundred yards later, Kristine Larsen seemed suddenly to collapse. At the next crossroad, she was barely across before I charged out onto the road. A few seconds later I was close enough to get my arms round her.

At which point she screamed.

A terrible, piercing female scream, so full of anguish and pain that it hurt my ears. She was shaking uncontrollably, and still struggling. I locked my arms hard around her and eventually managed to stop her, thanks to my greater body weight.

I spun her round to face me and got another shock. The face of the running woman was just as I remembered the face of the woman on the Lijord Line: distorted and rigid with fear. Only this woman’s face was even closer to mine, and there was no window between us.

‘Oh . . . is it
you
?’ Kristine Larsen whispered, her voice cracking.

Then she fainted in my arms.

XI

It was a strange Saturday night. The clock on the wall behind me struck half past ten. I was sitting alone with Kristine Larsen in an interview room at the police station. When she had come to after fainting, she agreed to give a statement without a lawyer present.

She had asked for permission to smoke, and this had been granted.

Then she had admitted that she had been Falko Reinhardt’s lover in the weeks before he disappeared, and still hoped that he would choose her should he return. As she could not talk to anyone, it had been hard for her to live with the pain of Falko’s disappearance and the nagging of her conscience with regard to his fiancée. Kristine Larsen’s guilt had, however, gradually given way to a growing jealousy, and a suspicion that Marie Morgenstierne might have had something to do with Falko’s disappearance.

So, driven by loneliness and despair, she had in the end sent Marie Morgenstierne the threatening letter, in the hope that it would in some way resolve the situation. Which it had not. On the evening in question, she had started to walk towards her flat after the meeting, but had then turned around and tried to catch up with Marie Morgenstierne so she could talk to her face to face. And she had shouted ‘Marie!’ spontaneously in surprise when Marie Morgenstierne bolted.

The chain-smoking Kristine Larsen had, in short, managed to confess an impressive amount in the course of the fifteen-minute interview.

The problem was not only that she denied, in horror, any knowledge of Falko Reinhardt’s whereabouts, but also denied, even more horrified, any knowledge of how Marie Morgenstierne had died.

According to her statement, Kristine Larsen had stopped running and watched Marie Morgenstierne disappear in wild flight. Furthermore, Kristine Larsen did not have any weapons on her at the time, and had never owned a gun. She had no idea who the murderer was, but had lived in fear of him or her since she heard that Marie Morgenstierne had been killed.

So when she heard someone shout her name, she thought that the murderer had come to shoot her and had therefore run for her life without looking back. If she had known it was me, she would have stopped straight away. She repeated this three times within a minute.

Kristine Larsen smoked and cried until ten to eleven. She looked as though she was on the verge of a nervous and physical breakdown. But she stuck to her statement with forceful despair and declared her innocence with open arms.

After five unsuccessful attempts, I realized that I was not going to get any further and so instead asked her to describe in detail what had happened when Marie Morgenstierne started to run.

Kristine Larsen told me that there was an old man with a stick walking in front of her and that he stepped to one side to let her pass. There had been a blind woman with a guide dog behind her, and a man farther back behind the blind woman, but she only caught a glimpse of him.

She had spontaneously shouted ‘Marie’ when she saw her take off. Marie had first glanced back and then looked all around. Kristine Larsen had assumed that it was the sight of her that made Marie Morgenstierne bolt.

‘But then, as I shouted, I also looked around. And that was when I saw something that made me stop in my tracks.’