V
Patricia was in a good mood and giggled as we went into the lift. I looked at her sternly. She shrugged.
‘In the middle of all this tragedy, there is a really sweet love story. I think it is better to have a happy ending twenty years too late than never at all. She is still younger than my mother was when she had me. You must promise to tell me how things work out for those two.’
I promised to do that – on the condition that she would soon tell me who the murderer was. She was immediately serious again.
‘I do not know for certain quite yet. What he told us was not what I had expected, so we are still missing a link. I can, however, tell you where we are going now, and that is the first floor.’
I was not very impressed. That was exactly what I had just thought myself.
‘And this time to Mr and Mrs Lund?’
Patricia smiled.
‘Of course. This should be relatively simple. Confront him with the fact that he was in Harald Olesen’s flat on the night of the murder, and her with the fact that she is lying when she says that he did not go out. Leave me just by the door as usual, and make sure that you can see them both at the same time.’
I agreed that it sounded like a good plan of action and pressed the button for the first floor.
VI
The Lunds came to the door together. They also accepted my brief explanation about the injured secretary. They asked us in without any protests or obvious pleasure. I positioned Patricia just inside the door, sat down on one side of the coffee table and indicated to the Lunds that they should sit together on the sofa opposite. They automatically did as I told them. When they were seated, Mrs Lund reached out for her husband’s hand. He squeezed hers gratefully.
I started by emphasizing how serious the case was.
‘The investigation has reached a critical stage and we now have every reason to believe that Konrad Jensen did not kill Harald Olesen. Much of what has been said earlier can be forgiven, if we now get the full truth.’
They nodded at the same time and moved almost imperceptibly closer together.
‘So, I will start by saying that I have clear indications that you, Kristian Lund, lied when you said that you had not spoken to Harald Olesen on the evening of the murder. I also have reason to believe that you, Karen Lund, lied when you said that your husband did not leave the flat after he had come home on the evening of the murder.’
Their reactions were very different. She blushed deeply and frantically shook her head, whereas his face lost all colour and he nodded. She was the first to speak.
‘I don’t know who it is who has been lying, but you are on the wrong track now, Detective Inspector! My husband was here with me from the time he came home until we heard the gunshot.’
It was said with such passion that I found it hard not to believe her. The ashen-faced Kristian Lund, who was now cornered and almost unrecognizable, resolved the situation.
‘She is telling the truth,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I am the one who lied again,’ he added, even closer to a whisper.
All three of us stared at him. Fortunately, he quickly continued with the explanation.
‘I went up to the second floor and spoke to Harald Olesen on the night of the murder. But it was before he was killed. I went directly from Sara’s flat and was only there for a minute or so. Then I came back down here and was together with my wife until we heard the shot ring out.’
I gave him a stern look.
‘And what happened during your final meeting with Harald Olesen?’
His smile was twisted.
‘There and then it was pleasant enough and I felt pleased when I came back here afterwards. He opened the door as soon as I rang the bell, but looked surprised when he saw it was me. He said he was expecting someone else for an important meeting and did not have time to talk. I said that it would not take long, as all I wanted was confirmation that he had changed his will as I had asked. He thought about it for a moment or two, then smiled and assured me that he had changed his will. I thanked him and said that I was glad, then left. And I took his word for it until I heard the final will being read out. The old swine had neglected to tell me that he had changed the will yet again, thereby denying me my rightful inheritance!’
I thought quickly through what had happened at the reading of the will – Kristian Lund’s reaction and the other facts that I knew – and realized that it all fitted very well with this last explanation. But I could not remember just then if this was his fourth or fifth version.
I looked questioningly over at Patricia. She held my eye but did not tap her pen. There was a short silence before Patricia did exactly what I had hoped she would: spoke.
‘We can almost definitely conclude that you did not commit the murder. But you are still covering for the person you met on the way down from Olesen’s flat on the evening he was murdered.’
No one was taken aback by the fact that Patricia had spoken. Kristian Lund’s reaction was too dramatic for that. He lost what little colour he had left in his face, dropped his wife’s hand and collapsed back on the sofa. I immediately seized the opportunity to take command again.
‘Exactly who was it you saw on the evening of the murder, and why are you covering for them?’
I fixed Mrs Lund with a beady eye, but her attention was taken up by her husband and her husband alone. Kristian Lund swallowed three times before he managed to say anything. The silence was crackling by the time he finally croaked a short, tiny and devastating word.
‘Sara.’
The name exploded like a bomb in the static silence between us. Mrs Lund’s voice a few seconds later resembled a machine gun.
‘I do not believe it! Have you known all this time that it was her who killed your father and not said a word to me? You could have sent that witch to prison over a week ago! And instead, you have lied to me and the police in order to protect her. Is that really the truth?’
Kristian Lund nodded almost imperceptibly and then looked up at me with pleading eyes, not daring to look at his wife.
‘We had not arranged it, and I certainly did not expect it. I had just come down to the first floor when I bumped into her at the door. We smiled briefly at each other as we passed. It was only when I had opened the door that I realized that she had gone up the stairs, not down. I did not think anything more of it at the time, but obviously it become more significant after the murder and then the reading of the will.’
I held his gaze and hurried to say something before the increasingly red Mrs Lund beat me to it.
‘But you are still not telling us why.’
Kristian Lund’s voice was barely audible, but was clear all the same in the tense silence.
‘Partly because I was such an obvious suspect myself. I had been to his door too. If she said that and claimed that he was dead when she arrived, who would you believe then? I think we both realized what a fateful web we were caught in. So we met as soon as we could for a minute out in the hallway the day after the murder. She had the door ajar when I came home. We agreed not to betray each other, and that was it.’
Then he stopped himself. I coaxed him on.
‘So it was partly because you were scared of your own situation and partly because you still had feelings for her and could not bring yourself to hand over the woman you loved to the police. Is that right?’
He nodded. That was when Mrs Lund slapped her husband across the face in an outburst of fury. Fortunately, the slap seemed to wake him up. The healthy red colour returned to his cheeks; he straightened himself up and was more alert when he looked at me.
‘We have pursued you from pillar to post for nine days now, Kristian Lund. Is there anything else of importance that you still have not told us?’