It felt slightly absurd when Patricia first said the word drowned. And then utterly logical once she had explained how it happened.
I sat almost thunderstruck, looking at her. She gave a chirpy smile, but was soon serious again.
‘So that means that the murderer this afternoon was the same as in 1932?’
Patricia shook her head pensively. ‘It is clearly possible that the murderer is one of the group of four friends from 1932 who is still alive. But equally, this is not the only possibility.
‘Per Johan Fredriksen had finally understood how the murder was committed when he spoke out at the dinner a few weeks ago. And the reason he raised his water glass was to show the person he believed was the murderer that he knew. The youngest daughter had either heard it from him, or worked it out for herself when she went to the hotel to ask if the room had had an en suite bathroom even in 1932. But that is not to say that the father and daughter actually knew for certain who the murderer was in 1932, nor does it mean that the same person murdered her now. Someone else may have guessed how it was done and used the same method to get rid of Vera, for example, because she now, consciously or unconsciously, had put you onto her father’s murderer’s trail. Or one of her siblings might have taken the opportunity to get ten million more in inheritance money. There are too many possibilities here. You have given me enough information to work out how Vera Fredriksen died, but not why or who killed her. Her siblings, boyfriend, mother and the others from the 1932 group who are still alive might all have done it, perhaps even someone we are yet to know about. Based on the known facts, it would be pure guesswork to say who she phoned, or who the mysterious guest in the neighbouring room was, and who else might have been in the hotel.’
Patricia had to pause to draw breath, but was obviously in her stride now. She continued a couple of moments later, without waiting for any questions.
‘Much the same is true of Eva Bjølhaugen’s murder in 1932. We can pretty much say with certainty that she first had a visitor in her bed, that shortly afterwards she had an epileptic fit and then was killed by drowning. We do not, however, know if the person in the bed was the same person who killed her, and again, we do not know who killed her full stop. As things stand, I have possible scenarios that fit for the other five in the group.’
‘And what about the murder of Per Johan Fredriksen?’ I asked.
Patricia sighed heavily.
Just then we were interrupted by a knock at the door. The maid came in with a fresh, steaming mug of coffee. She seemed to realize that she had come at the wrong time and made a hasty retreat without saying anything.
Patricia sipped her coffee.
‘Now it is slightly too hot,’ she said, and put the cup down. Then she looked straight at me again.
‘The murder of Per Johan Fredriksen is, if possible, even harder to work out. Whereas the murder in 1932 had a limited number of possible killers, the possibilities for the first murder in 1972 are as good as infinite. I have a number of theories, but need more information in order to establish which of them is right. And, what is more, I am not sure that we have a full overview of all the alternatives. There are lots of people with different backgrounds and motives who might want to kill a man like Per Johan Fredriksen. Fredriksen himself was obviously a chameleon man, and I think that the chances are considerable that he was killed by another chameleon person.’
Patricia blew on her coffee, then cautiously took a sip. I had the distinct feeling that she was waiting for me to ask her to explain the concept, and had no alternative but to do just that.
‘Goodness, apologies, I was obviously not thinking and used a concept that I made up myself and have since used so much that I forget that it is not generally known. But it is very appropriate and almost self-explanatory. The crime novelist Sven Elvestad based his novel Chameleon on the phenomenon in 1912. A chameleon person is someone who can move seamlessly between different circles and switch appearances depending on where they are.’
‘Surely that is relatively normal?’ I objected.
Patricia wiggled her head from left to right, and carried on speaking.
‘Yes and no. Fortunately, most of us behave slightly differently depending on who we are with and which social setting we are in. It is called social skills. But real chameleon people are different: they can change their face, behaviour and even personality within seconds, depending on what they think will serve their interests. Hauk Rebne Westgaard touched on it when he said that, ever since he was a child, Fredriksen had had many different facets and faces. And in more recent years, he had been perceived very differently as a businessman and a family man. His mistress has another impression of him, and people in political circles yet another. I would like to know more about the latter. Even though it may be painful for them, I think you should ask his family what they know about his earlier mistresses. And bear in mind all the time that several people may turn out to have several faces, and that some of those who do not appear to be dangerous on first meeting could be just that. Chameleons are generally thought of as small, innocuous animals, but they can suddenly change face and swallow their prey when least expected.’
I listened to her, fascinated, and promised to bear it in mind.
‘The boss is very reluctant to give up on the boy on the red bicycle as a possible perpetrator, but it would seem now that it is just a red herring?’ I suggested.
The coffee was no longer steaming. Patricia took another sip and thought for a while before answering.
‘We obviously cannot disregard the possibility that the murder may have something to do with Fredriksen’s life as a callous businessman and a heartless landlord. I think it is highly likely that what your eyewitness saw is true, despite her age, and that the poor boy was innocent. But we should not take that as a given yet.’
‘If the boy was innocent, it seems very odd that he then took the murder weapon with him when he fled to my home,’ I remarked.
Patricia shook her head fiercely. ‘To the contrary, his behaviour there and then is perfectly logical, if you look at what happened in isolation, in the sequence that he experienced it. Imagine how you would react in that situation. You are out in the street and see a man who has collapsed with a knife in his heart. What would you do?’
‘I would run over to see if he was alive. Then I dare say I would pull out the knife,’ I said.
Patricia nodded. ‘Precisely. Pulling out the knife does not in any way improve the victim’s chances of survival, but it is a natural reaction. Then there is the next stage. Fredriksen is clearly dead. The boy is standing there with the murder weapon in his hand and no other suspect in sight. He realizes in a flash that makes him the prime suspect regardless of whether he is caught at the scene of the crime with his fingerprints on the knife, or leaves the knife with his fingerprints on it behind. His life has never been easy and he does not have much self-esteem or trust in society. He does, on the other hand, have absolute trust in his hero, in other words you, and knows where you live. Given that he is both innocent and intelligent, it is then quite rational that he takes the murder weapon with him, jumps on his bike and cycles to your flat. What is confusing, and what makes me hesitate to dismiss him as the perpetrator-’ Patricia stopped in the middle of the sentence and sat there staring into thin air.