The Human Flies - [22]

I waited for further explanation, but soon realized that this would not be forthcoming. So instead I asked what she made of the neighbours’ statements. This time she was quick to answer.

‘There are still an extraordinary number of secrets in that building. The fact that all those people have ended up in the same building is suspicious in itself. The American diplomat is perhaps strangest of all, but the student from Sweden, rentier from Oppland and millionaire’s daughter from Bærum do not really belong on the east side of the river in Torshov either. Some of them may have ended up there by chance – that goes without saying – but that is certainly not the case for all of them. In fact, I suspect that only one of the residents has been completely open and honest so far.’

She stopped abruptly, no doubt knowing that I would ask who. When I did, she gave me the most tantalizing smile and tore a page from her notebook. With her left hand hiding the page, she dashed off some words before folding the paper. Then she rang the bell for the maid. While we waited, Patricia beamed at me with the most disarming and innocent smile.

‘Please forgive my somewhat eccentric behaviour, but it is a shot in the dark that may be wrong. And if that is the case, my speculations must not be allowed to bias your ongoing investigation.’

As soon as there was a knock on the door, she stopped the conversation and held the folded sheet out to the maid.

‘Please put this in a sealed envelope and send it to Detective Inspector Kolbjørn Kristiansen at Oslo Police. You will find the address in the telephone directory. Send the letter this evening on your way home.’

Benedikte looked from Patricia to me, obviously confused.

‘Benedikte, do not try to think for yourself, as it has never been very successful. Benedikte should just do as she is told and then everything will be fine,’ Patricia instructed, in a harsh voice.

The silent Benedikte nodded apologetically, took the piece of paper and hastily withdrew. I felt the episode to be uncomfortable, even though this might be the way they normally spoke to each other. However, I already had more than enough problems without interfering in internal communications in the Borchmann household.

Patricia waited before saying any more until the door was safely closed behind Benedikte.

‘The post has already been collected today, so the letter will not be sent until Monday, which means that you will not receive it before Tuesday at the earliest. It may be that I have made a mistake, but it will be interesting to see whether my theories today tally with what happens between now and Tuesday. I would be very surprised if some of the residents had not decided to amend their original statement quite substantially by then.’

I remembered one of the loose threads that I was struggling to tie up and immediately drew her attention to it.

‘Kristian Lund is perhaps one of them. What do you make of the discrepancy as to when he came home on the evening of the murder? It’s three against two, and I am really not sure who to believe.’

Suddenly, Patricia burst into loud, mischievous laughter.

‘Perhaps I should not laugh. That is another story, but it may of course still prove to be important. If you think about it, it is not necessarily three against two in favour of Kristian Lund. The fact that his wife confirms that he came through the door at nine o’clock does not necessarily contradict the claims from the other two that he came in the front door an hour earlier. The only person to support his claim that he came in at nine is the caretaker’s wife, who you said seemed to be bothered by the situation. I think you should have a serious talk with her about it, then I think that it will be cleared up soon enough.’

I promised to do so, without entirely seeing the point.

‘But where was Kristian Lund in the meantime, then? He could hardly have used all that time to get from the front door to the first floor.’

Patricia laughed again – just as loudly and mischievously as before.

‘If that were the case, he would be even less able than Andreas Gullestad and myself combined. If Kristian Lund did come back at eight o’clock, he could in theory have been in any of the other flats in the building. In practice, however, there are really only two possibilities. One is extremely serious, and the other extremely embarrassing – and both are of great potential importance to the investigation.’

I stared at Patricia, more fascinated than ever. She gave me her most coquettish smile and on purpose munched the rest of her carrot at a very leisurely pace before continuing.

‘The first and more serious possibility is of course obvious… Kristian Lund was on the second floor in Harald Olesen’s flat. For reasons he cannot or does not dare to share with us. It is quite possible this is the case, but the second theory is more probable.’

My patience was in danger of running out. And it certainly did when she found this to be a suitable moment to conjure up another raw carrot and take another couple of pensive bites. My suppressed irritation at being teased by those more intelligent than me at middle school suddenly flared up again.