The Human Flies (K2 and Patricia series) (27 page)

‘Fair enough. And even though I do not for a moment believe that it was the caretaker’s wife, she now also has a motive.’

Patricia nodded gravely.

‘I too have serious doubts about the caretaker’s wife playing the cold-blooded murderer, but this has become more feasible in view of what has transpired today. She was the only one with keys to Konrad Jensen’s flat, and she also had his full trust. And a hundred thousand kroner is a more powerful motive than many of us might imagine for a person who has struggled and constantly lived in financial straits and now faces old age with only forty-eight kroner in her post-office savings account. Remember that she also put through Harald Olesen’s phone calls. If she knew that a substantial sum had been left to her in his will, and had realized that the will was being changed a lot, then she had a very strong motive indeed.’

Now it was my turn to nod gravely.

‘Sara Sundqvist has the strongest motive of them all – if she knew that Harald Olesen had changed the will and left her a million kroner.’

Patricia agreed without hesitation.

‘Obviously. We only have her word for it that she knew nothing, and we also only have her word for it that she knows nothing about what happened in 1944. There might be a powerful motive there too. The will clearly implies this: Harald Olesen obviously had a very bad conscience when it came to her. In fact, it is interesting just how much the lady does not know. I advise you to keep an eye on her, but also to keep her at a good arm’s length for a few more days at least.’

This last piece of advice was rather obscure, but I did not feel the need for an explanation of what Patricia meant. Therefore I asked what she thought with regard to the Lunds instead.

‘Kristian Lund has had an obvious motive for as long as he has believed he was the heir, particularly if he was aware of the danger that the will was to be changed. In addition, he has also openly expressed his hatred for his deceased father and lied so many times that I have lost count, despite my good maths. His wife could have the same motive as far as the will is concerned, and the same need for revenge. As well as a more advanced but equally plausible motive, linked to another person . . .’

My face must have been a question mark.

‘This is a rather tenuous but all the same captivating theory. It would naturally be every jealous housewife’s dream to see her husband’s mistress publicly convicted and locked up for years, only to be let out when she is approaching forty, without children or friends. Especially if in the meantime you could use the inherited millions that she was denied . . .’

And she was right – it was a possibility. Mrs Lund’s hatred had risen to the surface and made an impression today.

‘The late Konrad Jensen also had both the opportunity and a possible motive. In short, after one week’s investigation, we still cannot exclude anyone who was in 25 Krebs’ Street when Harald Olesen was shot.’

Patricia nodded glumly.

‘We have made considerable progress and know far more, but still do not have a clear picture of the murderer. All the neighbours could have had the opportunity, and they all have at least one possible motive – some even have more. Kristian Lund and Sara Sundqvist are on the shakiest ground, but I advise you not to trust anyone other than me. And to make Harald Olesen’s niece your next port of call.’

I accepted this advice and got up to leave.

V

Cecilia Olesen lived in a spacious two-bedroomed flat in Ullern. She opened the door herself when I rang the bell and asked me in straightaway. As could only be expected, she did not seem particularly overjoyed to see me, but nor was she particularly hostile. A freckled girl of around ten years old poked her head inquisitively round the door to her room, but was immediately ordered to return to her maths homework. The ten-year-old protested that she had already finished her homework, but was not heeded.

I was shown into a comfortable living room and served coffee on a traditional painted tray and it all felt far too pleasant to ask the difficult question that I now had to ask regardless.

‘I do apologize for disturbing you again, but there are still some circumstances that need to be clarified in relation to your uncle’s murder.’

She nodded – and sighed.

‘So I am afraid I have to ask if you knew one of the other people present today slightly better than you may previously have intimated . . .’

No more was needed. Cecilia Olesen’s apparently staunch facade cracked and the tears started to fall.

‘You are absolutely right. I have been thinking about it ever since. But it was all such a shock – first to see him again, then the will and then discovering an unknown cousin. I could not gather my thoughts until I came home.’

I gave her a charming smile, and all the time she needed. Her voice had steadied when she carried on a couple of minutes later.

‘I knew that he might come, but prayed and hoped that it would not be too upsetting. I suppose I hoped that he would in some way be different – older, greyer and fatter – but he was almost just as I remembered him. A bit heavier, of course, but just as tall, just as dark, just as powerful and irresistibly confident. I almost fell off my chair when he came through the door.’

I gave her an understanding look.

‘So it is as I thought: you are the young Norwegian sweetheart that Darrell Williams has refused to name.’

She looked genuinely surprised when I said this, but hurried on.

‘That is so typical of Darrell, not to give my name in order to protect me. He was my first and my greatest love. I knew that the first time I saw him one autumn day in 1945. A day has not passed since when I have not thought about him.’

‘And yet it never amounted to more than young love?’

Her bright face darkened abruptly into something that resembled hate.

‘No, and that was my uncle’s fault. He was against the relationship from the start and successfully exerted his influence on my parents. It was so easy to fall in love when you were nineteen, he said, but nothing would ever come of it; he was an American soldier, after all – said he who himself worked closely with the Americans both during the war and after. So things got more and more difficult for us. Then one day in spring 1948, Darrell came to tell me that he had been ordered home with only a few days’ notice. I have always suspected that my uncle used one of his contacts to arrange that recall order. I still remember every detail of the day Darrell left. I stood at the very end of the harbour in Oslo and waved to him for as long as he was visible on deck, and we have not seen each other since until today. When he came into the room . . . it was almost as if I was young again and back in 1948. As if the ship had suddenly turned round and docked again, and my Darrell had come back to me – but then stopped a few feet away.’

Cecilia Olesen sat in silence, staring into the past.

‘I married a very nice and bright man, whom both my parents and uncle approved of, but it was our parents, and not us, who wanted it. I knew that I was standing with the wrong man when I said yes in the church, and it became very obvious as early as our honeymoon. But our wonderful daughter came out of it, if not a lot else. We stayed together for five years, and that was at least four too many. I never forgave my uncle. If he ever regretted it, he never managed to bring himself to ask for my forgiveness.’

It was easy to feel compassion. I nodded and then got up to leave a couple of minutes later when it became evident that she did not want to say any more.

There was something unsaid in the air when she followed me out to the door. She hesitated until the last moment, but then finally spoke as I stood in the doorway.

‘I have to ask you . . . I know nothing, and have wondered every day for the past twenty years. Do you know what Darrell has done in the meantime? He has obviously made a good career for himself, but does he have a wife and children? If I’ve understood correctly, he is alone here in Oslo?’

The last question was almost whispered, with an undercurrent of hope. I nodded calmly.

‘He told me that he had been married in the USA, but they had had no children and the relationship broke down after only a few years. So his story is very much like your own, only without children.’

I had hoped that this would comfort her, but instead the information unleashed a new torrent of tears.

‘Oh, I’m so glad, but the thought of him having no children is so, so sad. You see, he was going to have one in 1948. I found out the day after he sailed away.’

Her words winded me and pierced my heart.

‘You found out – that you were carrying his child?’

She nodded, swallowed and managed to stammer out the rest.

‘It was a scandal, of course, and the only solution was an abortion. My uncle knew some doctors and everything was arranged quietly and discreetly. It took several weeks before I could write to Darrell about it, and I have never known if he received that letter. I have always wanted to believe that he did, but that sorrow and disappointment prevented him from answering.’

I did not know what to say to this unexpected twist. So I stood there in silence for a minute or two before I gently put my arm round her shoulder. I thought to myself that the more unpleasant aspects of Harald Olesen’s past were now rising to the surface. And that Darrell Williams also had a strong revenge motive vis-à-vis Harald Olesen – particularly if he in fact had received that letter twenty years ago.

VI

I left Cecilia Olesen as soon as I could, and did not want to ask if I could use her phone. So instead, I made a stop at the office and called from there. Patricia answered immediately and sounded relieved that I had phoned. She whistled appreciatively when I told her about Cecilia Olesen.

‘The possibility of an abortion had in fact occurred to me, but I thought that was perhaps too much detail to mention. But this lead is of increasing interest. You should confront Darrell Williams about not only this, but also the papers that he and Harald Olesen burned. Because I am pretty certain that Darrell Williams is the O that Harald Olesen writes about in his diary. It fits well with the timeline when he moved in, the unspecified personal issue that Olesen writes about, and also suspiciously well with the letter itself.’

I had not thought about this possibility, but had to admit that it fell into place rather well. But I still had to ask what the letter ‘O’ fitted so suspiciously well with. The answer was to the point.

‘“O” stands for “OSS agent”.’

I nodded – and whistled. The OSS was the forerunner the CIA, and had been active in Norway both during and after the war. I had even mentioned it to Darrell Williams myself, without considering a possible link to the O in Harald Olesen’s diary.

‘You should question Darrell Williams again as soon as possible. Call Bjørn Erik Svendsen to find out about the OSS. But first send a telegram to the Swedish Police. Even though the US lead is of increasing interest, it may in fact be the Swedish lead that is the right one.’

Patricia hesitated for a moment, but then continued in a slightly shaky voice.

‘So, now we have established that N in the diary is Kristian Lund, J is Sara Sundqvist, and O is Darrell Williams, but we are still no closer to identifying D, who is the most interesting and frightening, if what Harald Olesen writes in his diary is to be believed. Unless he has used two different letters for the same person, which seems highly unlikely, the one he feared most is not one of our three main suspects. So keep your eyes peeled for a possible terrifying fourth person who might be D – both inside and outside 25 Krebs’ Street.’

I promised to do that, but had to apologize when Patricia asked and admit that I had forgotten to ask the niece if Harald Olesen had had any contacts in the Gjøvik area. We then ended the call and I composed a telegram to the Swedish Police.

IMPORTANT URGENT CASE STOP IN RELATION TO INVESTIGATION INTO THE HARALD OLESEN MURDER STOP REQUEST INFORMATION REGARDING SARA SUNDQVIST BORN 1943 AND ADOPTED IN GOTHENBURG SUMMER 1944 STOP MAY HAVE COME TO SWEDEN WITH HARALD OLESEN OR SOMEONE CALLED DEERFOOT STOP PLEASE TELEGRAM IMMEDIATELY ANY KNOWLEDGE AS TO DEERFOOTS NAME STOP KOLBJØRN KRISTIANSEN MAIN POLICE STATION OSLO

The investigation was becoming nothing short of an obsession. I was extremely curious as to what Darrell Williams would say regarding the information from Cecilia Olesen.

But first I followed Patricia’s advice and phoned Bjørn Erik Svendsen to find out what he knew about Harald Olesen’s contact with the OSS. And this was certainly not insignificant. Harald Olesen had apparently been the contact person for several OSS agents in Norway during the war. It was probably via these channels that he communicated information about Norwegian communists after the war, which then later ended up in the CIA’s archives. It was possible to get a fairly good idea of who these communists were from the documents. However, the names of the American agents were not known, or which other Norwegians had been involved in this information-gathering or known about it, or what else they might have done. Harald Olesen was the only one to be identified so far, but there was reason to believe that more people had been involved. It was possible that some of them might today hold key positions in Norway and/or the USA. This was one of the points that Harald Olesen had not wanted to discuss with his biographer, Bjørn Erik Svendsen told me, so he would be eternally grateful for any supplementary information I could give him.

I did not feel inclined to talk to Cecilia Olesen again following her emotional outpouring no more than a couple of hours earlier, so instead I called her brother to ask if he knew whether Harald Olesen had any close friends in the area around Gjøvik. And rather unexpectedly hit bullseye. He answered straightaway that his uncle had had lots of contacts in the area, but the first to spring to mind was a wealthy farmer whom he had visited several times in the years running up to the war. The nephew had even gone with him once. He could not remember his Christian name, but his surname was easy to remember, as he had owned a considerable amount of forested land: Storskog. He immediately replied: ‘Yes, of course!’ when I asked if this friend of Harald Olesen was perhaps called Hans. I quickly thanked him for the information, threw down the phone and ran out to the car.