Satellite People (38 page)

‘You can, I presume, confirm that you were wearing this diamond?’

Maria Irene suddenly understood the connection. She looked first at the diamond, then at me, then back at the diamond, her eyes darkening as she thought. Her voice was still impressively
controlled when she answered.

‘No. You must have remembered wrong. I have never seen that necklace before and have certainly never worn it!’

The silence in the room when she finished speaking was breathless. I stared at her with a thrilled awe. The eighteen-year-old Maria Irene Schelderup lied without so much as a flutter. Just as I
hoped she would.

So I continued to follow Patricia’s plan and swiftly carried on.

‘Neither you nor your mother perhaps knew that this is an extremely valuable diamond that has been missing since 1915, when your grandparents were paid a considerable sum in insurance
because they claimed that the necklace had been stolen. But you do know, all too well, that you were wearing this diamond when you danced with me. It was hidden in the secret passage, along with
the pistol that was used in the murder. You had taken the diamond from there without your mother knowing.’

Maria Irene shook her head again. Her voice was still controlled and her cheeks were still dry.

‘I can only repeat, absolutely no. I had never seen the pistol before you put it down on the table, I have never been in the secret passage, and I have never seen that necklace
before.’

Her lawyer’s voice was slightly more uncertain, but still firm when he again offered his services.

‘We are, without a doubt, still in a situation where it is one person’s word against the other’s: that is, that of the detective inspector against that of my client, as was the
case before. My young client’s word is still no less credible than your own.’

I nodded blithely.

‘Of course not. Providing that your young client can give a credible explanation as to why her fingerprints are then on the necklace.’

The expression ‘deadly silent’ suddenly seemed appropriate. Three pairs of eyes were trained on Maria Irene. She was completely still, almost as if dead, on her chair. I tried to
keep an eye on the second hand of the clock on the wall behind her. Every second felt like a minute. After forty insufferably long seconds, Maria Irene turned to her lawyer and asked: ‘Do I
have to answer that now?’

‘No. You are in no way legally obliged to answer the detective inspector’s question here and now.’

It was Rønning Junior who broke the electric silence between her and me.

‘I am, however, obliged to inform you that with regard to any future trial, it would clearly be considered a major issue in terms of evidence if you are not able to give a credible answer
now to the detective inspector’s highly relevant question.’

The clock on the wall ticked on for another fifty seconds. Maria Irene moved her mouth twice as if she was about to speak, but then stopped both times without making a sound.

I should have had ample time to prepare myself for an explosion. I had previously discovered that incredibly calm people often erupt violently under extreme pressure. And I already knew that
Maria Irene had a mother with an explosive temperament. But she sat there, apparently still calm and composed, and with such a relaxed face that it took us all off guard when in a furious rage she
swept the necklace off the table and grabbed the gun. I only vaguely registered that both lawyers dived under the table, from either side.

Maria Irene leapt up and took three feather-light steps back, keeping her eyes trained on me. Her eyes were glittering so fiercely that for a second I was seriously afraid that they would fire
splinters out into the room.

For a brief moment I felt once again the same strong desire for physical contact with Maria Irene that I had experienced a couple of days earlier in her room. But everything had changed in the
intervening forty-eight hours. She had not only killed another young woman, she had also lied to me in cold blood. When I was now confronted with her true egotistical and heartless self, all I
wanted to do was to strike the pistol from her hand and twist her arms hard up behind her back.

I relived for a second the moment in my last case when I suddenly found myself staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Despite the instinctive feeling of unease, I also felt a deep sense of
satisfaction and triumph. Maria Irene’s soft iron mask had finally shattered. Her eyes were burning and her slim hand trembled dangerously with the weight of the pistol. When she broke the
silence, her voice was also trembling dangerously.

‘I did not think you were that intelligent!’ she said, with a delightful undertone of desperation.

I relished the apparently menacing situation, and mentally thanked Patricia for her meticulous preparation before I answered.

‘In which case you have underestimated me again. Because I was certainly smart enough to replace the bullets in the murder weapon with blanks before putting it down within your
reach,’ I told her, with hard-won composure.

And in the most incredible fashion, all the tension in the room dissolved into what could almost be described as a relaxed peace in the course of a few seconds. I remained seated and observed
the threatening spark die in Maria Irene’s eyes. Then I got up and reached for the pistol. She stood and hesitated for a moment before she slowly gave it to me. Her hand was no longer
shaking, and for a moment I thought I caught the hint of a smile.

Then I sat back down, impressed by my own self control. I did have a burning desire to throw myself over Maria Irene and twist her arms up behind her back, but instead I kept my calm and enjoyed
my triumph in silence as I watched Maria Irene sink back down onto her chair.

It was only then that I discovered that the prosecutor was also back in his chair. Rønning Junior peeped over the edge of the table and said in a remarkably level voice: ‘Based on
this latest development in the case, it might perhaps be beneficial to all parties if I had a brief consultation with my client in private.’

I gave him a friendly nod, picked up the gun and waved to the prosecutor to follow me. The gold chain and diamond were still on the floor by the door. I bent down discreetly and picked them up
as I passed.

The prosecutor and I stopped outside the door. He congratulated me on my successful investigation. To begin with, I said simply that it had been a complicated and tragic affair, with many pieces
that had gradually fallen into place. When he then congratulated me for a fourth time, I allowed myself to say that I was extremely pleased with my own performance. At that moment, the door opened
and Rønning Junior waved us in again.

‘In order to avoid any further misunderstandings in this case, I would just like to confirm that the outcome of the current murder investigation is naturally of no importance to the
question of Magdalon Schelderup’s will. It is clear that my client had nothing to do with the deaths of her father and half-brother. Synnøve Jensen was not an heir, and the foetus had
no legal status prior to birth.’

I looked at the defence lawyer with horrified fascination. Then I looked at the prosecutor, who gave me a short nod. Which I then returned, though reluctantly.

‘Now that the framework is clear, my client is willing to confess to the murder of Synnøve Jensen and to cooperate with the police with regard to resolving the final details of the
case. She will plead guilty to the murder. We will, however, cite several mitigating circumstances. In addition to the confession, these include my client’s age, family wealth and her rather
unusual upbringing, as well as the emotional shock and grief triggered by the sudden deaths of her father and brother. Her version is that it was her mother who planned the murder and persuaded her
to carry it out, and we have every hope that a revised statement from her mother will support this interpretation.’

My initial sense of triumph was now giving way to far more complex feelings. There was something about the combination of the lawyer’s voice and Maria Irene’s expressionless face
that made me want to scream out my frustration at her shocking lack of grief and other human emotions, and her inhuman treatment of Synnøve Jensen.

The lawyer’s voice droned on without cease, as if he were already in court.

‘The defence will accordingly request seven years’ imprisonment, with the hope of parole after four for good behaviour.’

My feelings of revulsion at Maria Irene’s lack of humanity in no way diminished, but did have to give way to a reluctant admiration in the face of her renewed composure. It was she who
held out her hand when we stood up to leave, and congratulated me on carrying out such a thorough investigation. She added quickly that she did not hold a personal grudge against me and that the
pleasure would be hers entirely should we meet ‘under more favourable circumstances later in life’.

Her hand felt dry, cold and hard in mine. I withdrew my hand rather sooner than usual and in a strange way found the cigarette smoke outside the interview room rather refreshing.

VI

‘What a turniphead she turned out to be after all!’

Patricia smiled her smuggest smile, and paused demonstratively before helping herself to some cauliflower. The clock on the wall had just struck eleven. It was late evening on 17 May, the day we
celebrate Norway’s constitution, but more importantly now, the day we celebrated the conclusion of another successful murder investigation. The adrenaline was still pumping in our veins and
we were now well into the main course of a truly celebratory meal.

‘Her critical mistake was to deny any knowledge of the necklace instead of the pistol. Had she instead admitted that she had taken the diamond necklace from the secret passage and worn it
during the meeting with you, it would hardly have been possible to link her to the pistol and the murder. But I guessed that she was not that intelligent, and it had been luck so far.’

I nodded. Tonight I would accept practically anything that Patricia said.

‘You should be very happy with what you have achieved, it really is quite remarkable. Not only did you solve three apparently inexplicable murders from the present day, you also solved
three murders from the war,’ I told her.

Patricia’s smile was even broader.

‘
And
, please do not forget an almost fossilized case of insurance fraud,’ she added. ‘The diamond case was so old that it is unlikely that anyone from the insurance
company is alive to remember it, but the truth will always out, even if it takes decades.’

I nodded, but said nothing.

‘You do not seem to be overly happy, despite the fact that the investigation is now closed and all the murders are solved,’ she commented, after a pause.

I shook my head.

‘When I do a headcount of the ten guests from Magdalon Schelderup’s last supper, there are now two dead, two in prison and two on the verge of a nervous breakdown . . . The
host’s Machiavellian plan to spread fear and chaos amongst his guests has worked alarmingly well.’

Patricia gave a pensive shrug and waggled her head at the same time.

‘Yes and no. It was a truly Machiavellian plan that took the lives of some of his guests and ruined the lives of other. It remains to be seen how Mrs Wendelboe and Ingrid Schelderup will
cope with life after this. But the others from the war who are still alive, including Mona Varden and Maja Karstensen, did finally get an answer as to what actually happened. Herlofsen will
certainly have a better life for however long remains, and that may also be the case for Magdalena Schelderup and the Wendelboes. Fredrik Schelderup perhaps does not deserve it, but he will have an
even more carefree life than before. The Schelderup mother and daughter have to take full responsibility for their egoism and greed. So tragedy really only applies to the two young people who died.
We were in the nick of time to save the useless Fredrik Schelderup’s life and inheritance, but not to save his far nicer brother, Leonard, or the hardworking and honest Synnøve Jensen.
Unfortunately, the lot of a murder investigator is that one can do no more than solve frightful crimes and bring those responsible to justice. It is normally very difficult to solve a murder before
it has happened.’

I was well aware of that, but still could not force myself to be pleased. She realized this and continued quickly.

‘As for Magdalon Schelderup, it can only be said that he did to a certain extent succeed in his final great gamble, but he did not succeed in his great act. If Magdalon Schelderup, against
all odds, could see us now, be it from heaven or hell, I can promise you that he would curse us from the bottom of his heart for having unmasked him. In a matter of days, the whole of Norway will
know not only that Magdalon Schelderup committed suicide, but also that he was a criminal and a traitor during the war, and that he wanted to spread death and destruction amongst his family and
friends. His true character will eventually be revealed and he will be publicly condemned as the callous man that he was. And as for you, you will hopefully get all the honour and recognition you
deserve for your achievement.’

I have to confess that the last thing Patricia said did manage to raise my spirits a little.

‘Yes, thank you, I have to say it is overwhelming. Congratulatory messages are flooding in already, despite the fact that it is a public holiday, and the weekend newspapers will no doubt
make pleasant reading. But remember that for the past week I have been out there meeting these people, including Maria Irene. It frustrates me immensely that the person responsible for such a
grotesque crime should get away so lightly. Synnøve Jensen and her unborn child are gone for ever, whereas Maria Irene will be released before she is twenty-five, and has earned tens of
millions from the murder.’

Patricia nodded in agreement, but smiled all the same.

‘Of course, it is a paradox. She will naturally be punished far too lightly in the end and will have far more money than she deserves. But you will have to comfort yourself with the
knowledge that you did all that you could and she did not get away with it. I can assure you that every day in prison is hell for human predators like her, and she is not likely to enjoy the
company in Breitvedt Women’s Prison. It will be a long and hard road should she ever want to find a good husband after the court case has been reported in the press. But, most importantly,
her plans to inherit all the money and run the business single-handedly are in ruins because we prevented the murder of her half-brother.’