The Human Flies - [12]

Konrad Jensen was the only resident in the police records. He had indeed served six months for treason from 1945 to 1946, but had no other criminal record.

There was no information in the census rolls about the American Darrell Williams or the Swedish Sara Sundqvist, and on the whole, they simply confirmed what the Norwegian citizens had told about themselves. There was nothing new to discover about Konrad Jensen and Karen Lund. The only interesting additional information about Andreas Gullestad was that he had taken that name four years previously, and before that had been called Ivar A. Storskog. The rest of the information was, however, what he himself had told. His father had been a wealthy farmer from Oppland who owned substantial amounts of land and forest, and had died in 1941, aged only forty-eight. His mother had died in 1953. Andreas Gullestad had never been married or had any children, and his closest relative was indeed an older sister in Gjøvik.

The most interesting revelation in the census rolls was in relation to Kristian Lund. His father was simply recorded as ‘unknown’, and his mother was a secretary from Drammen. Kristian Lund had, however, either not known or not wanted to tell me that the very same mother had been a member of the NS from 1937 to 1945. She had had several secretarial positions with the occupying forces during the final three years of the war. The protocol from her trial for treason was attached and showed that she was sentenced to eight months in prison after the war, but was released after four months due to good behaviour and out of consideration to her young son. According to the census rolls, he came into this world in Drammen on 17 February 1941 and was his mother’s only child.

As a result, I concluded that of all Olesen’s neighbours, Kristian Lund was the first that I should talk to again. But none of the residents had any known links to Harald Olesen that might give them a motive for murder, and the day had given disappointingly few breakthroughs. Darrell Williams’s impression that something had been bothering Harald Olesen seemed plausible in light of the murder, but we still had no idea what it was. And for want of any better clues, I decided to spend the next day trying to establish what it was that had been bothering the murder victim in the last year of his life.

After a couple of attempts, I finally managed to get hold of Harald Olesen’s nephew on the phone. Joachim Olesen was an economist by profession and worked as an adviser in the Ministry of Finance. He had been waiting for a phone call from the police and immediately offered to come down to the main police station with his sister the following morning at nine o’clock to be interviewed. In the meantime, I asked for the name of the deceased’s doctor and bank, which he gave without any hesitation. Two brief telephone conversations later, it transpired that the doctor was himself on sick leave and the bank was closed due to an inspection of accounts.

I had to admit that I felt none the wiser when I drove home alone the evening after the day of the murder. As I had few better leads, I listed the former NS member Konrad Jensen as the main suspect. As with all the other residents, though, he lacked not only a motive and a weapon, but also the opportunity. I still had not the foggiest idea where I might discover any of this.

In short, I was not looking forward to reading the morning papers on Saturday, 6 April 1968 with any sense of joy or optimism. It was dawning on me that the opportunities afforded by having sole responsibility for this murder investigation were great, but that my fall from grace could be equally great. I still had no idea that the case would bring me face to face with the most calculating criminal I have ever met, but also with the most remarkable person I have ever had the pleasure of working with. Meanwhile, I brooded over the case alone, fruitlessly, until I fell asleep.

DAY THREE: The Princess of Erling Skjalgsson’s Street – and Her Sensational Discoveries

I

Saturday, 6 April 1968 started earlier than expected. I had set the alarm clock for eight, but was woken by the telephone a quarter of an hour earlier. The caller was patient and the phone continued to ring until I had struggled out of bed and answered it. I immediately recognized the deep and commanding voice on the other end.

‘I do apologize for disturbing you so early on a Saturday morning, but this may be of considerable interest to you. Am I speaking to Detective Inspector Kolbjørn Kristiansen?’

I confirmed that I was he as I tried desperately in my still sleepy state to recall where on earth I had heard that voice before. Fortunately, I did not have to wonder for long.

‘This is Professor Ragnar Sverre Borchmann. First of all, may I congratulate you on your most recent promotion. I hope, however, that we can still be on first-name terms and that you remember me as a guest in your childhood home?’

I most certainly did. Professor Director Ragnar Borchmann was an industrious and renowned university friend of my father’s. He had not been a frequent visitor to my childhood home, but had always caused quite a stir when he did come.