Satellite People - [57]

The next mystery from the war was in connection with the Dark Prince. According to the census records, Mona Varden was very much alive and still listed in the telephone directory as living at 32B Grønne Street. She picked up the telephone on the second ring, saying: ‘Mona Varden, can I help you?’

I introduced myself as Detective Inspector Kolbjørn Kristiansen and apologized for disturbing her. I would be very grateful, however, if she could answer some questions regarding the unsolved murder of her husband.

‘Finally,’ she said slowly, her voice trembling.

After a couple of moments’ silence, she continued.

‘Please don’t put the phone down. Every day for the past twenty-eight years I have waited for the police to call and ask about the murder of my husband. You can come here or I can come down to the police station, whichever suits best. I will answer all your questions.’

I felt a vague sense of guilt on behalf of the police. So I mumbled that perhaps someone should have called her before, but that I would very much like to meet her today, and that I was more than happy to come to her house if that was easier for her. She did not hesitate.

‘I would gladly walk barefoot from here to the police station if it would help to clear up the murder of my husband. But it is perhaps best if you come here. Then at least you can see the room where he was killed. I have left it untouched for all these years, in case someone should ask about it one day. So you are more than welcome whenever you want to come.’

I heard myself asking if three o’clock would be suitable. She replied immediately that it would be fine and that she looked forward to meeting me.

I sat holding the receiver for a while after she had hung up. The feeling that I had had before ringing Mona Varden was now stronger than ever. It was true that Magdalon Schelderup’s death was unearthing more and more interesting stories involving other people’s lives.

III

I arrived at the agreed cafe to meet Leonard Schelderup’s mysterious guest at four minutes past midday, having first quickly changed into civilian clothes. I ordered a coffee and a piece of cake and then made my way towards the back. There was only one man sitting there, but I could not see his face as a waiter was standing between us. I had come just in time to see the waiter, a young man of around twenty, take back a piece of paper with an autograph on it.

I caught a glimpse of the name as the excited waiter dashed past me. But by then I had already seen who the guest was and realized where I knew his voice from. It was from the sports news on the radio, and the football pitch. He was still high on the list of top scorers in the Norwegian premier league, and had played a good many games in the past decade or so with the Norwegian flag on his shirt.

He gave a short, friendly nod as I sat down. His voice, which had been loud and jocular in his conversation with the waiter, was now quiet and serious.

‘It was me who called you at around nine o’clock this morning, and I’m not sure that any further introduction is necessary?’

I nodded and held out my hand. His handshake was firm, but I noticed that his hand was clammy and trembling.

‘I would like to thank you for your discreet handling of the case so far. This has been a huge dilemma for me, as I very much want to help as far as I can to solve the murder of my dear friend, but must also confess to being afraid of causing a scandal and of being suspected of murder. It was very considerate of you to come in civilian clothing, and your announcement was so carefully phrased. The use of the word “person” and the wording “to be cleared from the case” indicated that you had understood the situation, but did not wish to blow our cover.’

I nodded and said that the words had been carefully chosen. Fortunately he accepted without further question that it was I who had composed the announcement.

‘So I am the person who visited Leonard Schelderup late yesterday evening. We had agreed a few days earlier that I would come. I did call him earlier in the day to say that perhaps it would be better if I didn’t come, given the situation. He said that he felt cornered and that he needed to talk to me. So I went as agreed, despite the additional risk that it now entailed. I cared a lot for Leo. More than for anyone else in the world.’

He said the latter very quietly indeed. I gave an appreciative nod and lowered my voice too when I replied.

‘Then it is undoubtedly your hair and fingerprints that were found in the flat, and in the bedroom. Is that right?’

He gave a tiny nod. Even though we were sitting on our own, at a safe distance from the few staff and customers who were there, his voice was almost a whisper when he answered.

‘Yes. But not a lot happened there yesterday. We lay with our arms around each other; that was it. Leo needed intimacy more than anything, and was too nervous and tense to do any more.’

Again I gave an understanding nod, as if we were discussing the football results. A couple of new, younger, customers who had just come in pointed, or rather, waved at us. The man I was talking to gave a friendly wave back.