‘I understand. So when Per Johan contacted you one day, you had no misgivings. But what did he want, if not a mistress?’
Solveig Ramdal gave me a fleeting, scornful smile before she continued.
‘It’s almost a bit strange that it did not lead to an affair. His own marriage was like mine; the only difference was that his wife was far more fond of him than I was of my husband. From his perspective, it was a sham. We had both been strongly attracted to each other once upon a time in our youth, but it was impossible to find that magic again. Eva and her death in 1932 was there like a wall between us. And that is what it was all about. Per Johan rang one day while my husband was at work, and asked if we could meet to discuss Eva’s death. He said that the case continued to haunt him and that he thought it had been murder. Per Johan said that he was pretty sure that I had not killed Eva, but that it could have been any of the other three. Of course I knew that it was not me, but I also had my suspicions and Per Johan was still a charmer when he wanted to persuade someone. And that’s how we ended up one day, sitting in a hotel room, the door locked, discussing whether one of our spouses could have committed murder. It was still all about Eva, more than twenty years after her death.’
‘Did you come to any conclusion?’
She shook her head lightly. ‘Not really. We just went round and round the possibilities. He did not even rule out the possibility that Oda might have killed her little sister – for the inheritance and finally to be out of her shadow. The sisters did not have a particularly good relationship, but that is not so unusual for sisters at that age. Per Johan was obsessed by the thought of who had been to bed with Eva that day. It was certainly not him, he said several times. So then it must have been Hauk or Kjell Arne. He had seen Kjell Arne in the corridor at around a quarter past six and it looked as though he was heading towards Eva’s room. But then -’
She took a short dramatic pause after this piece of information, and looked once again at the family photographs. Her thin, catlike mouth trembled. I thought how her story so far was in line with Per Johan Fredriksen’s notes – and that it was pushing her own husband further into the spotlight.
‘But then there was the bang that we never managed to work out. I was in the room next to Eva, and had heard a bang or thump around half past seven. Per Johan asked me several times if I was certain that the sound had come from her room. And I was then, and I am now. At the time I thought that perhaps Eva had tripped or dropped something on the floor. Later I figured it must have been when she fell, but then that was always odd as she was on the sofa. I put my ear to the wall in the minutes after the bang, but heard nothing more. The bang in itself does not mean that Eva didn’t die earlier, nor that Kjell Arne might have killed her. But it gave rise to doubt, and Per Johan and I could not get past it. Our main theory in the end was that Eva had turned her affections towards Kjell Arne and that it was Hauk who had killed her in a fit of jealousy. Per Johan still had his doubts back then, and what he may or may not have thought about the case in later years, I have no idea.’
Her conclusion was rather abrupt and a bit unexpected. I asked if there was any particular reason for suspecting Hauk.
‘It was rather woolly – so woolly, in fact, that we were not really sure of it ourselves. But I had always found Hauk rather distant and a little frightening. So I found it easier to believe that he had committed a murder than my husband or former fiancé. The story of the jilted lover turning to murder is not an unfamiliar one, not then and not now. Per Johan was vague about it, but he implied that Hauk’s family situation was very difficult. He also thought that Eva had treated him rather badly. Behind Per Johan’s friendly veneer, there were actually very few he respected and even fewer he feared. But when we met in 1955, so many years on, I could tell that he really did both respect and fear Hauk. I got the impression that he thought it was Hauk, but that it was something he could live with. Hauk was stuck down in Vestfold, so was not someone he had to see or deal with often.’
It felt like Solveig Ramdal was starting to open up now. Following a brief pause, she carried on.
‘I, for my part, would not completely dismiss the possibility of suicide. I only heard that one single bang between seven and eight – no footsteps. And I had heard steps out in the corridor and inside her room an hour earlier. I must say, I thought that some of the footsteps I heard in her room earlier were heavier than hers, which would indicate that at least one or more men had visited her. But anyway, I obviously cannot be certain about the footsteps, and there may have been others that I did not hear. Oh, I really don’t know what to believe.’
I could certainly say with a clear conscience that I agreed with the last statement. I had lost count of the number of possible explanations for the death in 1932. I noted down this last theory regarding Hauk and said that I clearly had to talk to Kjell Arne himself.
‘Of course you must. Kjell Arne normally works late in the afternoon, so no doubt you will find him in the office at Lysaker. I would also appreciate it if you say as little as possible to my husband about our conversation, but I understand if you must mention it.’
I said that I could not promise anything, but that I would do my best.
She gave a tight-lipped smile, held out her hand and wished me luck with the investigation. She bravely kept up appearances as the stalwart, bourgeois housewife. I understood that Solveig Ramdal had not had an easy life, despite her material comfort. But I did not trust at all that she had told me everything she knew, either about 1932 or 1972. I also noticed on the way out that there were a lady’s hat and two men’s hats on the rack in the hallway, which made me think. The fact that I was being followed by a Soviet agent did not prove that he had been the shadow with the hat on the night Per Johan Fredriksen was killed.
X
It was half past three by the time I got to Lysaker and found the right building. I met a group of three office workers on their way out. The premises of Kjell Arne Ramdal & Co. were clearly larger than those of Per Johan Fredriksen A/S. They had an entire floor of offices, providing more than enough space for the ten or so employees who were still hard at work.
A receptionist in her early twenties, who resembled an air hostess, smiled broadly at me, but then became more serious when I showed her my police ID. I said that I had to speak to Director Ramdal in person immediately and with a slight tremble in her finger, she pointed me in the direction of the corridor.
I found him at the end of the corridor, in the largest office on the floor, behind what was, no doubt, the largest desk in the office. He was none too pleased to see me, but held his composure even better than his wife.
‘So,’ he said briskly, as soon as I had settled in the chair in front of his desk and politely declined the offers of coffee and mineral water.
Kjell Arne Ramdal sat with his elbows on his desk like a great shield between us.
I started by asking whether there was any news on the possible acquisition of Fredriksen’s companies.