I still liked Ane Line Fredriksen the best of the remaining members of the Fredriksen family. I thought she was a refreshingly engaging and honest person. But I felt less convinced of her honesty right now. Ane Line Fredriksen had just earned roughly thirty million kroner as a result of the deaths this week, she had argued with her sister, she was probably one of the people her sister had tried to contact a few hours before her death, and she clearly had a lively temperament.
So I said that as a matter of procedure I had to ask her if she had an alibi for the time of both her father’s and sister’s deaths.
She looked as though she was in danger of exploding. She shot forwards in her chair and boomed: ‘For goodness’ sake, man! Are you accusing me of killing my father and Vera?’
I was slightly taken aback by her reaction, but replied with measured calm: ‘For the moment, I am not accusing anyone of having killed either of them. I am trying to find out who did, and it is then a matter of procedure to ask everyone in the victim’s closest family for an alibi. It is clearly written in all police rules and guidelines.’
Strictly speaking, the latter was a slight exaggeration, but it did the trick perfectly. Ane Line Fredriksen calmed down in record time. She leaned back in her chair again and answered in a much quieter, slower voice: ‘Very well, if it is standard practice and included in the rules. When Father was killed on Saturday evening, I was at home with my daughter. She went to bed at seven, after which I sat alone working on some party matter until the priest came to my door at eleven. When Vera died, I was at home all day with my daughter until I took her to my ex-husband and his parents at around three o’clock. Then I drove home again and was on my own until a friend came to see me at five.’
I had hoped her alibis would be watertight. But they were not. It was becoming frustratingly hard to rule anyone out in this case.
I changed tack and said that there was something in connection with the company that she should perhaps know about. She nodded attentively and listened closely, leaning further across the desk as I told her the story of the office manager and the accountant. Her face was barely a ruler’s length from me, so I could see the tears when I told her that the accountant’s mother had died.
I put the confession down on the desk and said that it was up to her and her family to decide whether they wanted to report the case or not.
I had made a Photostat of the confession, in case it should prove to be relevant to the murder investigation, and I was glad that I had. Ane Line Fredriksen looked quickly at the confession, shed a couple more tears, then she produced a blue lighter from her pocket and set fire to it.
I did not try to stop her. We sat in silence and watched the confession burn.
I said with due care that the crime had taken place some time ago, but that she should at least discuss it with her brother.
‘My brother has so much to think about right now. He can concentrate on the figures and I will look after the people,’ she said, and winked almost mischievously at me.
‘It really was indecently greedy and heartless of my father. He clearly had many aspects to his personality that we, his family, did not see,’ she added quickly, with an angry shake of her head.
I said that there was one thing about her father that perhaps she should know. Again, she nodded attentively – then asked what it was, when I paused for a few seconds.
The suspicions that he was a spy were still strictly confidential. But I thought perhaps it was time to test his daughter’s reactions to the possibility that Per Johan Fredriksen had thought about changing party and sides in the EEC debate.
I did not have to wait long for her reaction. She thumped the desk with her fist and the rest of her shot up from the chair before she carried on in a very indignant voice.
‘Surely you can’t be serious? The Centre Party is one thing. But to change sides in the EEC debate would have been comparable to high treason for all concerned – including me and the rest of the family. That was the only thing we agreed on. Father came from farming stock, and knew what membership of the EEC would mean for lots of farmers. And he had been elected and re-elected to the Storting and as head of the Standing Committee on Foreign Affairs on the promise that he would oppose Norwegian membership.’
I said that all things being equal, it was apparently true. He also feared that if he did not, he would lose his seat in the Storting.
‘All the same… what an egocentric idiot, liar and political cheat. If you have no more questions for me, I have to get out into the fresh air before I throw up on your desk.’
Without waiting to hear if I had any more questions, she stood up and marched out of my office.
I thought to myself that she would hardly have behaved like this if she had killed Per Johan Fredriksen, no matter whether it was because of the inheritance or the EEC question. But it had clearly demonstrated to me that the EEC debate really could stir up strong feelings – and that Ane Line Fredriksen was a very complex person.
The day’s edition of Verdens Gang had arrived and proved to be more critical than the morning papers. ‘Despite all the respect that Detective Inspector Kolbjørn “K2” Kristiansen has earned’, there was reason to ask if more resources were not needed, as the investigation seemed to be very modest, given that both a leading politician and his daughter had been killed within the space of a few days. According to the newspaper, ‘K2’s reputation could take a nosedive’ if the investigation did not produce any concrete results before the week was out. However, the report did finish with the hope that the investigation was progressing and an expression of deepest sympathy for the victims’ family.
VI
I had to make two telephone calls. I made the one I was looking forward to least as soon as the office door had closed behind Ane Line Fredriksen. It was to Edvard Rønning Junior, the lawyer. I got hold of him without trouble at the offices of Rønning, Rønning, Rønning & Rønning. I said that there were some developments in the case that he should be informed of, and as a result of these, some questions that I would like to ask his client, Lene Johansen.
Rønning Junior replied that he had expected to hear from me sooner, but that of course he appreciated that I had telephoned him now and that he would come in person with his client. There were certain practical problems involved in contacting his client, as she did not have a telephone or work anywhere with access to one. She did, however, ring him at three o’clock every day, and he could ask her then if she would be able come to the station with him at four. I asked him to do that, and he promised with relative goodwill to call me back if it was not possible to meet today.
Then at five to two, I called Patricia. I said that it was rather short notice, but there was a good deal of new information and I would appreciate talking to her as soon as possible.
She said that the maid should be able to rustle up some coffee with fifteen minutes’ notice.
I thanked her and said I would be there as soon as possible.
We hung up at the same time without saying any more. I thought that the case, after a hesitant start, now seemed to be of interest to Patricia. So I got up, rushed out to my car and drove to Frogner.
VII
At a quarter past two, I was sitting in my usual place opposite Patricia in her library. Coffee, cakes and biscuits had been put out on the table, but not touched by either of us. Patricia listened in silence for twenty minutes as I told her the most important things from my meetings with Hauk Rebne Westgaard, the office manager Jørgensen and accountant Svendsen, and Ane Line Fredriksen.