Satellite People - [44]

‘I have never believed that Leonard would ever be happy, and I don’t believe that he did either. Regardless of whether he won gold or a stipend to do a Ph.D. All the same, in recent months it seemed as though his heart was lighter. What a tragic end to a short and no doubt challenging life.’

He looked sombre when he said this. It seemed that the gravity of the situation had finally caught up with him. However, when I asked if the reason for his brother’s lighter mood in recent months was a woman, he shook his head with a disapproving look.

‘One should of course never give a categorical no when it comes to women, as I have learnt from experience. But I have never seen Leonard with a woman outside the family home for years, and have no reason to believe there was a woman in his life now. And in any case, I have enough problems with my own personal life as it is, without having to worry about my brother’s as well.’

His little joke cheered him up and he put his glass down on the table with purpose.

‘And talking of my personal life, I am expecting a guest soon and she may actually be one worth holding on to. We are going to celebrate my inheritance and then discuss the possibility of using some of it on a trip to Brazil’s balmy beaches, as soon as the investigation is over. So unless you have any more questions to ask today…’

I did not, and I longed to get out into the fresh air. I had started to realize that behind Fredrik Schelderup’s playboy image there might lurk a sadder story and a sharper observer than one might at first think. I did not trust him any the more for that, and though I doubted that a murderer would behave in this way, I felt uncomfortable sitting at the table with a man who, within hours of his only brother’s death, would be celebrating his inheritance with wine, women, and song.

Leonard Schelderup’s frightened voice from the evening before persisted in my mind like a bad conscience. As did the picture of his dead body and contorted face. So I quickly asked a final question as to whether Fredrik was aware of any changes in his father’s health in the past couple of years. He replied that he was not, but would not have been told until it was strictly necessary. His father had never liked to share his weaknesses and came from the old school that kept any such worries secret even from their family for as long as possible. Following this answer, I decided that there was nothing more to be gained from talking any further to Fredrik Schelderup today.

VII

Who could tell me about Leonard Schelderup’s life now that his father was dead, his mother was asleep and his brother knew nothing, proved to be a good question.

The head of the institute at the University of Oslo was not of much help. ‘Young Mr Schelderup’ had had very good qualifications and made a favourable impression, but he had only been there for six months and so had not yet got to know his more senior colleagues. As his supervisor had been abroad on sabbatical, the young Mr Schelderup had mostly worked on his own. The head of the institute thought that he seemed very nice, if a bit shy. I agreed with this conclusion, even though it did little to help. The conversation ended with the head saying that they had no doubt lost a great talent and that it would unfortunately mean a lot of work for the institute as the stipend would have to be advertised again.

The athletics club was my next port of call, but there was not much to be had here either. The chairman of the club expressed his sorrow and said what a loss it would be to the team only days before the annual Holmenkollen relay race, and then gave me the number of the man who had been Leonard Schelderup’s trainer for many years.

Other than the dead boy’s mother, the trainer was the first person who sounded as though he would genuinely miss him. He said in a gentle voice that not only was Leonard Schelderup one of the greatest talents he had ever met, but also one of the greatest people. There was an incredible contrast between his iron will and competitive instinct on the track and his gentle, considerate nature otherwise. As far as the trainer could remember, he had never said no when the club asked him to do something. In the past couple of years, however, it had been generally understood that it was best not to ask without warning. They could see that it made him uncomfortable and they feared it might ruin his concentration in competitions.

The trainer had met Leonard Schelderup’s mother on numerous occasions, and also his stepmother and sister a couple of times, but he only knew his father through the media. Leonard had been in the club since he was fourteen, but only his mother ever drove him to training in those early years. Then, when he was sixteen, he started to come on a bike and, later, when he had turned eighteen, in a car. But always on his own, as far as he could remember. It was not generally known in the club whether he had ever had a girlfriend. If I wanted, I could have the names and numbers of some of the people he had run and trained with, but it was unlikely that any of them had ever been to his home.