He replied shortly that there was not, but, given developments in the case, he had not expected there to be. He had personally rung Johan Fredriksen earlier in the day to give his condolences on the loss of his sister and had told him that under the circumstances, a twenty-four-hour extension of the deadline was acceptable. It had been a ‘constructive’ conversation, and he was still of the opinion that the takeover would go ahead.
He spoke confidently and almost enthusiastically about the deal, then stopped abruptly.
I decided to get straight to the point and said that it would appear that Vera Fredriksen had been murdered. As a matter of procedure, I had to ask both the family and others involved of their whereabouts that afternoon.
Kjell Arne Ramdal didn’t move a muscle when he answered.
‘I was here at the office all day, from nine yesterday morning until I drove home at half past four. Almost all of the staff here attended a conference in the second half of the day, but the office manager and receptionist should be able to confirm that I was here until they left at half past three. Then I was here on my own for the last hour.’
I noted down that Kjell Arne Ramdal’s alibi had fallen apart in front of my very eyes. Encouraged by this, I took a leap back to 1932.
‘The situation regarding Per Johan Fredriksen’s death is still unclear. However, some new information has come to light regarding the death of Eva Bjølhaugen in 1932. We have found some papers that were left by Per Johan Fredriksen and other material that could indicate that he had discovered how she had been murdered and that he suspected that you were behind it.’
Kjell Arne Ramdal raised his eyebrows, but otherwise remained calm. I was not sure whether to be impressed or frightened by his being so calm in the face of such a serious accusation from a dead friend.
‘If Per Johan Fredriksen had found out how Eva was murdered, it would be impressive – we have all given it a lot of thought over the years. The fact that he suspected me is less surprising. A distance had grown between us in the last few years. I figured that he was either jealous of my success or thought that I had something to do with Eva’s death. He had reason to be jealous, but not to suspect me of murder. If I am to give a more informed answer to the accusation, you might like to tell me how she was murdered and why Per Johan Fredriksen thought that I did it.’
Kjell Arne Ramdal looked at me intensely when he spoke, and it seemed to me that his elbows were weighing more heavily on the desk.
‘Fredriksen believed, correctly, that she had been drowned. He suspected you because he had seen you at a quarter past six that day coming out of her room with a glass in your hand.’
Kjell Arne Ramdal sat behind his desk with impressive and irritating composure. There was not so much as a ripple of surprise to be seen on his face. Although it could perhaps be detected in the ten-second pause he took this time before speaking. And then it was only to say: ‘Should I perhaps call one of my lawyers at this point?’
I replied that he was more than welcome to do so should he wish, but that there was still no reason to, if he told me the truth and it did not involve a crime.
He nodded, almost gratefully, at that. ‘Excellent. Then I will. I did not commit a crime of any sort. And what I did was also morally acceptable, given that I was at the time a young man without obligations. It was before I got involved with my wife, who at that point was engaged to someone else. It is true that I was in Eva Bjølhaugen’s room that afternoon. But nothing dramatic happened there. She was alive and unharmed when I left the room at a quarter past six, and I did not see her again until she was discovered dead two hours later.’
I immediately asked why he had gone to her room and what had happened there.
‘It is not a very honourable story. Eva was very beautiful and charming. I was – like all the young men who met her – very attracted to her. I have to admit that I went to Oslo because I hoped a romance might blossom, and I did not want to take the chance that the other two might get in there before me. Earlier in the day, Eva had behaved in a way that gave me reason to believe that this hope might become a reality. She avoided her boyfriend, and was exceedingly friendly towards me. I should have realized that that was just how she was: Eva was a flirt who liked to play different men off against each other. And I made a genuine mistake. I knocked on her door at five past six to offer her my love. I left the room at a quarter past six crestfallen at having been rejected. She turned me down in her characteristically charming way: “Maybe sometime, who knew what the future might hold…” but the reality was clear. At one point I tried to put my arm around her and with a scornful smile she shook her head and took a step back. I left without accomplishing my mission. I don’t remember the glass, but it is not unthinkable that I took it with me by mistake in my heartbreak. I was truly nervous that day.’
Kjell Arne Ramdal did not, however, look nervous today. He finished there.
I didn’t know what more to say. His version was consistent and plausible. And I was not able to check there and then whether it was true.
I asked if the bed was still made when he left the room. He nodded quickly.
‘The bed was made up and untouched when I came and when I left. It’s fair to say that I had hoped it would not be when I left. But, all the same, it was very definitely made up. I came out with my trousers between my legs, as we say in Vestfold.’
It was the closest thing to humour I had ever heard from Kjell Arne Ramdal. But the mood was too sombre for either of us to smile. We were caught in a frustrating situation. I could not prove that the bed was not still made up when he left the room and he could not prove that it was.
In all honesty, I believed that the bed was still untouched and that Eva Bjølhaugen had been alive when he left. And that left an hour and a half afterwards where anything could have happened. Including the possibility that Kjell Arne Ramdal went back and killed Eva Bjølhaugen having built up a jealous rage; a motive which he had just given me himself.
I said that we also had indications that Per Johan Fredriksen had suspected Hauk Rebne Westgaard, and asked Kjell Arne Ramdal if he knew anything about that.
He nodded quickly and once again spoke briskly. ‘The extent to which that is true, I am not able to say, but that suspicion was very definitely the case at one point. There is a bit of a history there that I should probably tell you, though I do not like to spread rumours about other people and things that are none of my business…’
He gave me a questioning look. I said that he should certainly tell me everything that might be relevant to the sequence of events and motives.
He nodded again, almost gratefully, and carried on talking with renewed vigour.
‘In that case, the situation was that Eva was beautiful, charming, flirtatious and possibly slightly power-crazy. She loved being the centre of attention. Per Johan Fredriksen had had a brief romance with her the year before, which lasted about a month. After a few drinks, he confided in me that he, despite several attempts, had never managed to take off so much as her blouse, let alone her underwear. Behind her flirtatious front, she was pretty demanding and prudish, he said. She was a woman who often said A without wanting to do B. One day she broke it off and told him that he was not going to get what he wanted so badly, at least not for now. It was a humiliating defeat for him and he was visibly jealous of his childhood friend when she started to go out with Hauk Rebne Westgaard instead. But Fredriksen was not convinced that Westgaard had achieved what he so badly wanted either – even after they had been together for a few months. So, between the two of them, there was a lot of competition and a lot of emotion. Westgaard also had a slight inferiority complex in relation to us: his father was half crazy, their farm was smaller than ours and he had less money. So if Eva treated him badly, or if he believed he was about to lose her to one of us, it is easy to imagine that he might have killed her in a fit of rage. Eva was a girl who played with fire. She could have burnt herself on Hauk Rebne Westgaard. But I have absolutely no idea if that is what happened.’