Sohlberg and the Missing Schoolboy: an Inspector Sohlberg mystery (Inspector Sohlberg Mysteries) (8 page)

Matthias Otterstad moved closer to Sohlberg and said:

“Any regrets over not joining me in the business?”

“No. None.”

“Really?”

“No. I truly love what I do.”

“Why?”

“Because nothing excites me more than outsmarting the criminal mind. Nothing. I also love finding out how people really live their life in private . . . away from the public eye. Their choices fascinate me . . . how they make choices for the better or for the worse.”

“But a policeman’s pay is so little compared to what you could’ve earned in business.”

“Material possessions never attracted me.”

“How lucky. You know . . . it’s always a fight to own things and not let them own you. My five children all know that they will get very little when I die . . . just as I got very little when my father died. See those fancy Bénéteau boats floating out there?”

“They’re hard to miss.”

“Those boats are not a rich man’s toys but rather the principal assets for three of my children who own small businesses that charter and rent the boats. No sir . . . my children will not to grow up to be weak degenerates like the royals of Europe or all those trust fund babies.”

“Good for you. I’ve seen so many disasters when parents spoil their children. You have no idea how many of my worst criminals became just that thanks to a father or mother who coddled and spoiled them and encouraged them to do whatever they felt like doing.”

“Yes! . . . That’s why all of my children have to work if they want to eat.”

“So they get nothing?”

“Practically nothing. Just seed money to start a business or get an education or learn a trade. Almost everything will go to foundations and charities and think-tanks and political causes when Nora and I kick the bucket. More than anything else we want to make sure that Norwegians stay Norwegians . . . that Norway stays out of the European Union racket and stops all this social engineering nonsense of immigration and other insanities.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t moved to Switzerland to avoid taxes.”

“We did for a time after I sold the company to those idiots in New York. But we couldn’t stand being in Switzerland . . . it’s the money laundering capital of the world . . . after a while the stench of dirty money starts clinging to you. You know what I mean?”

“I think so.”

“Sooner or later you start smelling like a filthy pig from all those dirty billions of euros and dollars parked in Switzerland from drug bosses and corrupt Third World dictators. I’m sure most of Interpol’s targets have all or most of their money in Switzerland.”

Sohlberg smiled and switched the topic to avoid even the remotest chance of accidentally mentioning any Interpol investigation. “What luck of yours Matthias . . . or intelligence . . . in selling out your company before the market crashed.”

“You wouldn’t believe what I knew about. . . .”

Both men fell silent when other guests joined them. Fru Otterstad and Fru Sohlberg rejoined their spouses. The Otterstads sipped wine while the Sohlbergs drank an alcohol-free cider.

~ ~ ~

He lost track of his wife at the gym. She kept flitting about from machine to machine and then chit-chatting here and there with all of her dumb and superficial gym friends. Of course he now knew all about her flirting in the gym and picking up men for dalliances when he was at work.

“Faster! . . . Let’s go people! . . . Faster!” yelled one of the cretins who posed as a fitness trainer and so-called Olympic cyclist.

He looked for his wife among the women who were panting after their leader in the stationary exercise bicycle group. The so-called Olympian was a bottle-blonde 20-something male who was often called
Gluts
behind his powerful backside by the more lecherous and hormonal-minded women and gay men at the gym.

There she is. Brazen as always. Look at her ogling him.

He caught his wife standing by a weight machine and staring straight at the Olympian’s bulging rump. He inspected his wife in her tight workout clothes and noticed that she was indeed no longer in as good physical condition as she had been when she was a body builder.

Although she was no longer a Miss Charles Atlas or Miss Arnold Schwarzenegger he knew that she would probably put up a good fight if he tried to strangle or stab her. He had to avoid any combat with her. The trick would be to disable her and maybe even drug her beforehand. Or get her really drunk. She liked smoking cannabis two or three times a week and that might do the job along with some beers and tranquilizers.

He took a break from the strenuous exercise that the Jacob’s Ladder gave him. Of all the gym equipment the Jacob’s Ladder was his absolute favorite because of the punishing nature of that exercise beast.

Who was the genius who designed the Jacob’s Ladder exercise machine?

As he drank from a bottle of Farris mineral water he realized that the Jacob’s Ladder exercise machine was nothing less than a perfect symbol for his life. In other words he was climbing a ladder and a marriage that went nowhere and the efforts were draining his energy and the ladder and the marriage would eventually exhaust and defeat him. He looked at other gym members on others ladders and the grueling workouts that they received as they climbed the endless procession of wood rails on the 40 degree slope.

Wasn’t there a Bible story about a Jacob’s ladder?

Or was it the story about Jacob wrestling with God?

He tried to remember the exact context of the Bible story.

Like almost all Norwegians he had grown up as a member of the government-sponsored Evangelical Lutheran Church of Norway. Like most children he had taken the mandatory
Kristendomskunnskap
or Christian theology courses given in public elementary schools until 2007. Like almost all Norwegians he celebrated religious Christian holidays like Easter and Christmas as well as Lutheran ceremonies for births and confirmations and weddings and funerals. And like most Norwegians he never went to church except for those holidays and events.

Jacobs’ ladder . . . what did the Bible say about that?

As soon as his wife joined the stationary bicycling group he went over to the weight lifting section and began a workout with dumbbells. He then switched to various hand grips in order to strengthen his hands and wrists in preparation for the happy day when he would kill her.

Strangling her with his bare hands would be such a pleasure.

First would come the sensual and exciting feel of squeezing the lovely flesh around her neck.

Second he would have the luxury of looking deep into her eyes and watch her life flicker away with the ultimate satisfaction that the last image ever to appear in her retina would be that of him snuffing the life out of her.

All that excitement would be the perfect climax following hours or days of torturing her.

This is his plan. This is his obsession.

A fetching and well-built woman in her 30s approached him and started working out with the dumbbells. She soon turned to him and said:

“Hei . . . don’t those grips hurt your hands or wrists?”

He nodded and realized that he would have absolutely no problems in finding a suitable replacement for his wife within days or weeks of her death. He was perfectly sure that he would probably be able to hook up with some woman within hours of the funeral.

From what he’s heard women immediately swoop in and start seducing the widower in a bid to quickly bed the grieving survivor. Men of course do the same on widows. The vultures circle and move in for their prey. They take advantage of the widow’s or widower’s grief and overwhelming desire and passion for their loved one.

He looked forward to the feeding frenzy over him—the grieving survivor. He knew that he would be no different than a piece of meat that sharks have smelled and tasted in the water. Without any doubts he believed that he could move some
Hot Babe
into his house to console him within days of his wife’s tragic death.

Planning.

The key is in the planning.

He who plans well reaps the rewards.

Had not his entire life proved to him that he reaped great rewards
if
he planned thoroughly and well in advance?

His careful planning for his education and for his career had superbly rewarded him. Only when he got careless did he suffer the consequences as had happened with his wife. Therefore she must die not anytime soon but rather a year or so from now. And it must look like an accident

How can you torture and kill someone while making it look like an accident?

He could not afford to attract attention from the police. No sir.

His brain started working on all the calculations and permutations.

Then it hit him.

As a child he had read and heard about Jacob’s ladder from the Old Testament Book of Genesis.

That’s it.

Genesis. How fitting. I too will have a new beginning as soon as she’s dead.

He scurried over to the locker room and got his Nokia cell phone out of his jacket. He had the latest smart phone from the giant Finnish telecom company. The phone could surf the web at lightning speeds and find anything on the Internet.

He ran the search for “Jacob’s ladder” on Google. His eyes widened as he read the NASB translation of Genesis 28:10-17 which tells of:

Jacob traveling and sleeping outdoors at night with a rock for a pillow. He dreams “
and behold, a ladder was set on the earth with its top reaching to heaven; and behold, the angels of God were ascending and descending on it.
”

Then God tells Jacob that he will be rewarded with land and children and that “
Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.
”

His eyes filled with tears especially when he read further on that Jacob wakes up from the dream and says:

“
Surely the LORD is in this place, and I did not know it.
”

His hands shook when he read the last verse:

“
He was afraid and said, ‘How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.’
”

If only he could see the gate of heaven. If only he could get to the gate of heaven. But he could not because it was far too late for that. The dirty deeds were done. Her deceptions had stolen that opportunity from him forever.

He would never be blessed like Jacob. She had taken that from him and to make matters worse she was without a doubt surely going to expose him with his little secret about the molestations. He had to kill her. She had blocked him from ever seeing and reaching the gate of heaven.

Did not the Old Testament law of “
an eye for an eye
” call for her death?

No amount of forgiveness would solve his problem.

Only her death would make things right and even and just.