‘In the worst case, five. They could all be housing a murderer, or at the very least someone who is hiding vital information.’
I was very glad that we were so close to catching the murderer in 25 Krebs’ Street, but the plan that Patricia proposed was less attractive. I suddenly thought of something that would be a vast improvement, and laughed in a jocular manner before I spoke.
‘That all sounds very complicated. It would be pretty hopeless if the head of investigation had to borrow a telephone to put a call through to an anonymous friend before making the next move. I accept the need to confront the various parties at the scene of the crime tomorrow, but we need to make one practical adjustment…’
Patricia looked at me warily. It was the first time I was ahead of her in the game and she seemed genuinely uncomfortable with the situation.
‘You have to come with me!’
The moment I said those words, a powerful shudder went through Patricia’s thin body. She sat staring at me from her wheelchair, not saying a word. I hurried on.
‘Not only is it the best solution, but also absolutely necessary. Various situations might arise where I simply cannot reach you in time by telephone. And what is more, it is entirely doable in practical terms. Andreas Gullestad manages to move around the building in his wheelchair, so why would you not be able to? We can give you a pen and paper and say that you are my secretary and have an injury. And just think how interesting it would be for you to be there when the case is concluded and to meet all the people you have spent so much time analysing over the past week…’
Patricia remained uncharacteristically silent in her wheelchair.
‘The fact is, it is very difficult to find a rational counterargument,’ she said in the end, with a serious face. Then her sardonic humour cut through and she laughed.
‘And I am not exactly spoilt for choice with invitations to do exciting things at the weekend anymore… All right, I will come with you!’
I spontaneously held out my hand before she had time to change her mind. Patricia’s hand was shaking, but was warm and full of enthusiasm. When I added that she should perhaps get her father’s permission first, she gave me a wry look and commented that ‘the fossil’ had only too often said that she should get out more. And in any case, he could no longer decide where she went and with whom. She did, however, promise to ‘let him know what he needs to know’.
Patricia insisted that I collect her myself, in an unmarked police car. In answer to my question as to why the latter was important, she chuckled and replied that the staff and neighbours would possibly celebrate and be only too happy to snap pictures of her being driven away in a police car. But then she switched in an instant and became deadly serious again.
‘And you must have two reliable armed officers posted by the outer doors tonight. I am still slightly unsure as to who the murderer is, but I am in no doubt that he or she is an exceptionally cold person who is capable of anything. And not only do we still not have the murderer, we do not have the murder weapon either…’
I nodded my consent.
The possibility that Joachim Olesen was the murderer still seemed the most plausible solution to me – except perhaps Sara Sundqvist, but I did not want to believe it was her. It worried me in every way that Patricia’s attention was so obviously focused on the building, even though that did not necessarily mean that the murderer was physically there.
‘The chance for a happy ending might perhaps increase if I asked Harald Olesen’s niece and nephew to come to 25 Krebs’ Street? I am sure that they could wait in the entrance or with the caretaker’s wife in her flat, in case we need to talk to them.’
For a moment Patricia looked confused. Then suddenly she burst out laughing again.
‘Now I understand what you meant. A happy ending, what a brilliant way of putting it. By all means ask them. And who knows, some questions may crop up that they might be able to answer. And aesthetically, it does feel fitting that we do a Poirot and gather all the surviving parties together before the arrest.’
I felt that this minor success could indicate that the ever-secretive Patricia was thinking along the same lines as me and suspected the nephew. We were both in good spirits when we agreed that I should collect her at half past eleven, so that we would be ready to start at Krebs’ Street by midday at the latest.
On my way out, I was unable to contain myself and asked one final question.
‘Have you decided which flat we should start with tomorrow?’
The answer was what I had expected, but not what I had hoped for.
‘I think we should start by seeing what Sara Sundqvist has to say in her defence this time.’
She may have seen the disappointment on my face, for she continued briskly.
‘Much depends on what she can tell us, and what she wants to, but it is by no means certain that we will end there.’
I carried my hope with me out into the dark. I made a quick stop at the now quiet police station to make three brief telephone calls. The first was to Cecilia Olesen, who this time sounded far happier to hear my voice. She cheered up even more when I told her that Darrell Williams had returned and that we expected to close the case over the course of the weekend. That said, she immediately and almost enthusiastically agreed to my request to come to the scene of the crime at a quarter to twelve the next day.
I was of course more curious about her brother, Joachim Olesen. His voice was measured, but by no means eager. I had a strong feeling that I could now see the murderer’s face clearly for the first time when he held back and said that he had already promised to prepare a balance sheet for the ministry on Saturday. He was silent for a while when I emphasized that it would be to everyone’s advantage if he was available for questioning in the final stages of the investigation. He gave in with a quiet sigh and said that in that case he would of course make himself available for the police.
The final telephone call was to the caretaker’s wife, who told me that all was peaceful in the building. She promised to be waiting with the key to each flat at a quarter to twelve, and to be at her post early to make sure that all the residents were at home.
In the end, I made a fourth call and ordered a constable to keep an eye on Joachim Olesen’s flat, and to follow him should he go out before he was due to meet us. I did not want to be missing a key witness in the grand finale of my first major murder investigation – and especially not the one who was my prime suspect.
When I finally fell asleep around two o’clock in the morning, I could still see the nephew’s secretive face in my mind’s eye. All the same, I thought carefully about each of the others who would be there. The face of the ever-elusive Sara Sundqvist was the last I pictured before I dropped off. If nothing else, I would be able to establish on the tenth day of the investigation whether she had become involved in the murders by sheer misfortune or whether she was a particularly devious murderer.
DAY TEN: The Story of a Human Fly
I
Saturday, 13 April was not only the day before Easter; it was also the investigation’s tenth day. For me, it started like any other Saturday. I had a lie-in and ate breakfast on my own at around ten o’clock. By half past ten I was in my office and could to my relief confirm that nothing new or of any note had happened there. After a quick telephone call to 25 Krebs’ Street at eleven o’clock, I knew that all the residents were at home. The caretaker’s wife was also informed that Harald Olesen’s niece and nephew would be coming, and she promised to put out a table and a couple of chairs for them.
At a quarter past eleven, I left the main police station in an unmarked car. Patricia, dressed in a simple green dress, was sitting waiting for me in the hallway when I arrived at Erling Skjalgsson’s Street. For a moment I was afraid when I saw Professor Ragnar Borchmann towering beside her, but he gripped my hand enthusiastically and happily gave me leave to borrow his only daughter ‘for up to four hours’. As Patricia wheeled herself out in front of us, he commented in a hushed voice that he had not seen her so cheerful and focused since the accident.