The Catalyst Killing - [25]

I looked at her, taken aback, and wondered secretly if this was some kind of a joke. It was beyond me to understand what significance this detail might have. But Patricia’s face remained focused and almost insistent, without a shadow of a smile, so I answered with forced gravity.

‘Yes. She was, after all, a woman of means and was wearing a rather expensive watch on her left wrist. And it was still working after she had been run over by a train. But I simply have to ask, in return, what on earth you think the practical significance of that is?’

Now, however, Patricia smiled broadly.

‘I thought the practical significance of that would also be obvious. But I am more than happy to explain to you if necessary and you so wish. So far we have, naturally enough, been more interested in why Marie Morgenstierne ran for her life to the train. But what is also interesting is why she was walking so slowly in the first place. Even though she had a watch and knew the time, she was walking at such a leisurely pace towards the train that she would not catch it, and so would have to wait some time for the next one. And she must have known that, as she had taken the train home from meetings many times before. So, one theory that is worth noting is that Marie Morgenstierne wanted to give the impression of heading straight to the train, whereas in reality, she was going to meet someone else or do something else at Smestad yesterday evening.’

I had to admit that this was a theory worth noting. But I felt rather confused. So I excused myself, saying that I was tired after a long day of investigation, and asked with a fleeting smile whether we could meet again and discuss this further tomorrow. By then I would also, hopefully, have some more information to add.

Patricia replied with a bigger smile that she in fact had no other important arrangements tomorrow and that it would suit her very well if I was to drop by sometime after six, for example. Unless the staff had fallen asleep on the job or gone on strike, there was even a hope that I might get a simple meal after my hard day’s work. I thanked her and promised to be there before seven o’clock the following evening. Then I followed the maid out, still pensive, but far more optimistic than when I came in.

I had an extraordinary amount to think about when I went to bed, alone, in my flat in Hegdehaugen at around eleven o’clock on Thursday, 6 August 1970. The faces of the various people I had met in the course of the day flashed through my mind. Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen’s face stayed longest, even though she was the one I least suspected of being a murderer. But then I could not really imagine any of the people I had met so far as being Marie Morgenstierne’s extremely cold-blooded murderer. And if one of them was in fact behind it, I had no idea of who that might be.

And so, just before I fell asleep, I pondered what Patricia had said about the curse of public space, and concluded that the murderer was probably someone else, somewhere else out there in the dark. And I unfortunately had no idea as to how we might find him or her.

DAY THREE: More answers, more questions – and more suspects

I

I skimmed the newspapers at the breakfast table on Friday, 7 August 1970 and saw that the Mardøla protests still dominated the headlines, following an attack on the protestors’ camp by several hundred reportedly angry Romsdalers the night before. The defence minister had refused to send in troops to remove the activists, but a large group of policemen were on their way to prevent any further scuffles. Otherwise, the debate about Norway’s membership of the EEC had intensified after a speech given to Norway’s Rural Youth by the Conservative Party and parliamentary leader, Kåre Willoch, where he had highlighted the EEC negotiations as an important national concern that everyone should support.

Aftenposten and Arbeiderbladet both carried a matter-of-fact report about Marie Morgenstierne’s death at Smestad. Both papers had found out that ‘the well-known Detective Inspector Kolbjørn Kristiansen’ had been given responsibility for the investigation and Aftenposten had, ‘based on previous experience, every hope that the case would be solved and those responsible arrested within a week’.

I put the papers to one side and set off for Kjelsås to start my working day. I still harboured a small hope that the flat where Marie Morgenstierne had lived might contain something to reveal the identity of her murderer.

Getting in proved to be no problem at all. One of the keys from Marie Morgenstierne’s wallet fitted the outside door. The caretaker was at his post and had read about the murder – and about me – in the newspaper, so immediately jumped up when I knocked on the door to his flat on the ground floor. He confirmed that the other key from Marie Morgenstierne’s wallet was to her flat. The only real challenge was to stop him coming in with me. In the end I managed to solve this by promising to come and get him if he could be of any help. He stayed outside the door just in case.