The Catalyst Killing - [51]

I gave her a sharp look. She lit another cigarette with shaking hands and took a deep drag.

‘That was when I saw him. He was standing there by the corner of a house on one of the side roads, looking at us.’

She said nothing more, and looked at me with an odd mixture of confusion and joy in her eyes.

‘And the man who was standing there was…?’

She nodded gravely. Then she whispered the name I had guessed before she said it, and which made the room spin.

‘Falko.’

I stared hard at Kristine Larsen. Her eyes were wet with tears, but she did not look away for a moment.

‘He was just as tall, just as dark and just as irresistibly handsome as when I last saw him. I would have recognized him anywhere in the world. He stood by the corner of the house for a few moments without moving, then disappeared from sight again between the houses. I don’t know whether he was waiting for Marie or me. And I don’t know if she saw him. But I did. It was my Falko standing there in the road – I am as sure about that as I am that I’m sitting here on this chair.’

At first I did not really know what to say to this highly unexpected turn of events. So I kept quiet for a few seconds. Behind me, I heard the clock on the wall strike eleven. And then I heard myself say to Kristine Larsen that she was under arrest and would be held on remand, on suspicion of murdering Marie Morgenstierne.

XII

It was by now half past eleven. I sat on my own in my office and thought about the situation.

Kristine Larsen had accepted being taken into custody with unexpected dignity, saying that at least in prison she no longer need fear the faceless murderer as she had every second since the news of Marie Morgenstierne’s death. But she continued to maintain that she was innocent, and that the murderer was still out there somewhere.

She begged me in earnest to continue with the investigation. And with even more urgency, she asked that Falko Reinhardt be informed of where she was, if he was found. She had to see him as soon as he turned up. He would no doubt then be able to corroborate her version of what had happened the evening that Marie Morgenstierne died.

At twenty-five past eleven, I rang Patricia. She picked up the telephone on the second ring. It sounded as though she was stifling a yawn, but she soon perked up when I started by saying: ‘Following some dramatic developments this evening I have now arrested the person I believe to be Marie Morgenstierne’s murderer!’

I waited for some sign of delight, but it never came.

‘Gracious, do tell!’ Patricia said, instead.

Then she listened silently to my brief account of my meeting with Kristine Larsen and her ensuing statement.

‘Very interesting indeed. But who have you arrested as a result?’ she asked, when I had finished.

‘Kristine Larsen, of course,’ I replied.

There was not a sound to be heard on the line for a moment or two. Not a sound.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, what have you done now?’ Patricia exclaimed in disbelief.

Something, I realized, was terribly wrong. But the indications that Kristine Larsen was guilty were so clear to me that I was not going to give up without a fight.

‘The case is of course not solved yet, in terms of all the details. But even so, you cannot deny that Kristine Larsen had both the motive and the opportunity to shoot Marie Morgenstierne.’

This gave about two seconds’ respite. Then Patricia’s voice slammed back into my ear like the recoil from a gun.

‘Absolutely. Kristine Larsen could have shot Marie Morgenstierne. But why on earth would the sight of Kristine Larsen have caused Marie Morgenstierne suddenly to panic and run for her life? Have you thought about that?’

I had not given that side of the matter any thought at all. And now that I was forced to think about it, I found no good answer.

The memory of the terrified Marie Morgenstierne hammering on the train doors in desperation popped up in my mind. Kristine Larsen’s harmless appearance could not possibly have made Marie Morgenstierne run for her life. Particularly not when she had in fact left the meeting with Kristine Larsen, had turned down the offer of a lift, and then walked slowly and calmly towards the station.

Either something inexplicable had happened in the meantime that alerted Marie Morgenstierne to the fact that Kristine Larsen was now going to shoot her – or it was, quite simply, not Kristine Larsen from whom Marie Morgenstierne was fleeing.

The floor was heaving beneath my feet when I asked Patricia if she had any plans for Sunday. She replied that she had no plans that could not be changed, and that I was very welcome to come for lunch around midday if that suited. Then she added that I should bring with me any fingerprints that had been found, and anything else of interest that I might discover in the meantime.

I promised to do so. Then I put down the receiver and sank back into my chair.

Kristine Larsen remained on remand. There were still reasonable grounds to suspect her, but it was with a heavy heart that I went out into the dark just before midnight.