Sohlberg and the Missing Schoolboy: an Inspector Sohlberg mystery (Inspector Sohlberg Mysteries) (30 page)

“What classes?”

“I’m enrolled in the executive M.B.A. program of the B.I. Norwegian School of Management.”

“Oh really?” said Sohlberg as he took off his coat and sat down. “Well . . . to answer your question . . . I have no idea how long we’re going to be here. I guess a lot depends on your cooperation and answers. Yes?”

“I . . . I don’t know what you want from me. I’ve cooperated with everything that the police have asked of me.”

Gunnar Haugen appeared to be worried. Sohlberg’s initial strategy of surprise was working despite the likelihood that Karl’s doctor had already called one or both of the parents.

A thought struck Sohlberg: if the doctor had indeed telephoned a warning then had the warning only gone to the stepmother and not to the father? After all the man’s bewilderment had been obvious since first approached in his office by the inspector and constable.

Had the stepmother kept the warning to herself?

If that was the case then why did she not pass the warning on to her husband?.

“Herr Haugen . . . before we discuss whether you have actually cooperated with us let me first explain why I’m here since I noticed you did not bother asking me why we’re here.”

Gunnar Haugen said nothing. Instead he assumed the stoic look that everyone in Norway knew from watching Gunnar Haugen’s image on television and newspapers and magazines.

“I have two assignments Herr Haugen. First . . . I’m here to make an arrest.”

Haugen blinked nervously.

“Second . . . I’m here to make sure that we have more than enough evidence to convict.”

“Wait,” said Gunnar Haugen as if waking up from an afternoon nap. “Where’s Nilsen? I thought he was in charge of the case. He knows I cooperated.”

“Nilsen is out. I’m in charge now. All I can tell you is that after carefully reviewing all of the case files . . . I don’t see how you can claim that you’ve cooperated. Quite the opposite.”

“Nilsen knows that we helped as much as we could.”

“You helped yourselves . . . not your son. Anyway . . . as I was saying . . . I reviewed the case files and all of the interviews with you and your wife and I could only come to one conclusion. You and your wife bamboozled Nilsen with lies and half-truths.”

Haugen stared at the table.

“Unfortunately for your son Chief Inspector Nilsen took everything you and your wife said at face value. He questioned nothing. Anyone who hears the interviews or reads the transcripts immediately realizes that you live in a fantasy world or are a lousy liar . . . or both.
Nothing
that you and your wife have ever said to the police makes any sense.”

Sohlberg expected an indignant outburst or at the very least a protestation of innocence. He got neither from Haugen who remained wrapped in his silent stoic mantle.

“Why didn’t you go into work on the Friday that your son disappeared?”

“Our daughter had been up all night crying. I felt too tired to put in an honest day’s work.”

“And yet you supposedly worked all day on your computer at home from eight in the morning until three in the afternoon.”

 Haugen said nothing.

“Whose idea was it for you to stay home that day?”

“I . . . I don’t know. I guess both of us. My wife needed me to stay with the baby while she took Karl to the science fair.”

“Who packed Karl’s lunch for that Friday?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“Who usually packed his lunch?”

“Well . . . it depends . . . some days I did . . . others day my wife.”

“So you’re a top up-and-coming manager at Nokia . . . and you’re also going to Business School and yet you have the time to prepare his lunch?”

“I . . . well . . . yes. I have time to pack his lunch.”

“Why doesn’t your wife prepare his lunch all the time?”

Silence.

“Herr Haugen . . . your wife’s unemployed. She has all the time in the world to pack his lunch. She seems to be in very good health. So . . . tell me . . . why doesn’t your wife prepare Karl’s lunch
all
the time.”

“That’s just the way it is.”

“I see. We just have to take your word for it. Right?”

Silence.

“Can anyone corroborate your claim that you sometimes packed his lunch?”

“I. . . .”

Sohlberg took out a Polaroid picture of Karl’s backpack. The picture was taken by the police at Frøken Bøe’s room on the day of the disappearance. Sohlberg pointed at the picture and said, “Is this your son’s backpack?”

“I think it is. Yes. . . . Maybe.”

“I’ve looked inside that backpack . . . and guess what? There was no lunch in the backpack.”

Silence.

“No lunch . . . that means only one thing Herr Haugen. You or your wife or both of you never expected Karl to be around to eat his lunch at school. That’s why one of you didn’t pack his lunch. That was a major slip-up. Do you care to explain it?”

Silence.

Sohlberg noticed that Gunnar Haugen’s right eye flickered wildly.

Was Gunnar Haugen trying to figure out what lie to tell about the missing lunch?

“There’s another very odd thing that I found,” said Sohlberg who switched topics to keep Gunnar Haugen off balance. “I read the transcript of your third interview and found something rather unusual.”

Silence.

“You stated that your wife Agnes Haugen is a very good mother. Is that true?”

He nodded.

“Please answer me with words Herr Haugen. The tape recorder can’t pick up your head nodding . . . so I guess for the record that means yes. Anyway . . . you told us that your wife taught Karl sign language at age six. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“And yet Karl is not deaf . . . his doctor told us that he is a perfectly normal child from a medical and physical point of view.”

“He is.”

“So he’s not deaf?’

“No.”

“Then why would your wife teach him sign language?”

“I . . . well . . . you know . . . she’s a teacher . . . she has a master’s degree in education and a license to teach elementary school.”

“But she’s not licensed to teach deaf children . . . is she?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“She never taught sign language to Thor . . . her first son . . . did she?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“One last time Herr Haugen . . . why would your wife teach your son sign language when he’s not deaf?”

Silence.

“Herr Haugen . . . did your wife teach sign language to Karl so that they could communicate in secret?”

Gunnar Haugen’s eyes dimmed.

Sohlberg’s throat tightened as he realized how out of touch this man was to the reality of his home life where his wife led a separate parallel existence.

“Herr Haugen! Look at me. Did your wife secretly and silently send your son instructions in sign language for him to leave the school that Friday June fourth?”

Sohlberg looked straight into Gunnar Haugen’s eyes. But the engineer had shut down. His tightly closed eyes told Sohlberg and the world one message:

“Leave me alone!”

Wangelin and Sohlberg could literally see that the man was withdrawing to some distant place where no one could intrude.

“Herr Haugen,” said Sohlberg. “You and your wife both told investigators that your son suffered from seizures and yet his doctor says that is not true and has never been true. So tell me . . . whose idea was it to create the fake illness about seizures?”

Silence.

“Whose idea was it to use a non-existent illness to confuse the teacher and the school about which Friday Karl would not be at school but on a doctor’s visit?”

Silence.

“Constable Wangelin . . . please arrest Herr Haugen if he does not answer my questions.”

The tinkling sound of Wangelin’s handcuffs brought Gunnar Haugen back into the room.

“What? . . . What do you want to know?”

“Why did you sign that vague letter to the school telling them that your son would miss school on Friday because of a doctor’s appointment and yet you did not date the letter . . . nor did you specify exactly which Friday he would be gone from school.”

“Well . . . that’s just the way it was written. I can’t change the past.”

“But you Herr Haugen are a senior high-level manager at a huge multinational corporation . . .
and
you are going to a major business school . . . surely a sharp up-and-coming executive like you doesn’t write such vague communications . . . or is this what you do at Nokia . . . or learn at business school?”

“My wife typed the letter. I just signed it.”

Sohlberg wanted to smile. The father had finally opened the door that offered him a way to implicate or blame Agnes Haugen in the disappearance of his son.

“Herr Haugen . . . it’s incredible that you of all people signed such a vague note . . . a piece of nonsensical verbiage that resulted in so much confusion . . . thanks to that misleading note of yours the school was not able to react fast enough to your son’s disappearance. Thanks to your note the search for
your
son was delayed by more than six hours. How do you think
that
will look before a court considering your conviction and sentence?”

Silence.

“You also made verbal statements to the teacher that made her think that your son Karl was visiting the doctor on Friday June four instead of Friday June eleven. Then you switched your dates and statements and told the school and our investigators that you had always told the teacher that Karl would be at the doctor on the
next
Friday . . . June eleven.”

“I never spoke to the teacher before Friday June four. My wife handled all school matters for Karl.”

Sohlberg stared at Gunnar Haugen. Sohlberg was elated that the father had taken another step to implicate or blame Agnes Haugen in a felony crime. But now the time had arrived to change topics before Haugen could carefully think about Sohlberg’s questions and even more important Haugen’s own answers.

“Herr Haugen . . . children repeat whatever they hear their parents say at home. They are little tape recordings. Wouldn’t you agree Herr Haugen?”

“I don’t know.”

“You son repeated many interesting things at school about you and your wife. Did you know that?”

“He could’ve been repeating things he heard at his mother’s home up in Namsos.”