Hans Lahlum - Chameleon People

The head of reception wrung his hands and admitted that it was a deeply unfortunate breach of normal practice, but that the hotel needed more guests, and they had had guests with nerve problems before and there was, at that point, no reason to suspect something criminal.

I said rather impatiently that we would still need to check his story about the mysterious guest and take a statement from him or her.

He immediately agreed to this and took a universal key to Room 112 with him.

We let ourselves in, having knocked twice on the door with no response. The door was unlocked.

The key was lying on the table. It was the only sign that the very mysterious guest had even been in the room.

The head of reception had only seen Vera Fredriksen and myself pass through reception that afternoon. This did not necessarily mean that we two and the mysterious guest were the only people who had been in the hotel. One or more could have passed through in those few minutes when the reception was not manned. There was also a back door at the opposite end of the corridor, by Room 118. The lock meant that it should only be possible to open the door from the inside. However, anyone who was already inside could easily have let others in, and it was not unthinkable that a burglar who came prepared could pick the lock from outside.

Vera Fredriksen had rung my flat from a telephone booth by the hotel reception at around half past three. She had paid for the call in cash at reception, and for two other phone calls she had made earlier in the day – the first around one o’clock and the second around three. Both of the earlier phone calls could not have been longer than a few minutes, but the numbers she had called were not registered anywhere.

I was able to give my boss an update from the telephone in my office at half past six. And it did little to lift spirits.

We had another dead person, and, until the results of an autopsy were clear, no idea of the cause of death.

We knew that there had been another guest in the neighbouring room, but had no idea of the person’s identity.

We knew that Vera Fredriksen had made two telephone calls a few hours before her death, but had no idea who she had called or what had been said.

My boss took it much better than I did. He remarked that we did not yet even know if something criminal had occurred. According to what I had said myself, Vera Fredriksen suffered from nerves and her father’s death may have triggered suicidal thoughts. Young ladies with a nervous disposition had been known to commit suicide in the most spectacular ways at times, so it was not unthinkable that she had chosen a dramatic replay of the tragedy that her parents had experienced in 1932.

He did, however, concede that the situation was highly suspicious, especially as the mysterious guest from Room 112 had disappeared. If there was any connection to Per Johan Fredriksen’s death, this only strengthened the assumption that the explanation was to be found in Fredriksen’s private life.

I said that I agreed, and in return he accepted that a priest should be allowed to talk to the three remaining members of the family first, before the police contacted them again.

We also agreed that a forensic investigation should be launched, and that we would talk again as soon as the preliminary autopsy report was ready. I immediately said yes when he suggested ten o’clock the following morning.

I put the telephone down at a quarter to seven, and sat there pondering, looking at it for a few minutes more.

I thought that Miriam would by now have gone to her meetings, and would not be back until late this evening. Then I thought that she would surely be happy for me to ring Patricia now, as yet another young person had lost her life. I concluded that the situation was now so critical that I could not not phone Patricia, regardless of what Miriam might think.

At ten to seven, I took the plunge. I lifted the receiver and dialled Patricia’s number from memory.

The telephone was answered after two rings.

The woman’s voice at the other end simply said: ‘Yes?’ But I recognized it straightaway all the same and felt a surge of relief and hope that the deaths from 1932 and 1972 could all be solved before a scandal ensued. It all depended on whether or not I was now able to persuade Patricia to help me.

‘Hello, it’s me,’ I said.

There was a few seconds’ silence on the other end. For the first time, it felt as though Patricia was surprised that I had rung her, and she needed a few seconds to consider the significance of it. But this did not take long.

‘I suppose this is about the Fredriksen case, then. I think there are several very good reasons why I should steer clear.’

I was afraid she was going to put the telephone down, but the line was not broken. There was still hope.

She said nothing about what these reasons might be, and I certainly did not feel like asking. Instead, I tried to tempt her with titbits from the investigation.

‘The case is far more interesting than it might at first seem. We now have a statement from an eyewitness that indicates that the young suspect who took his own life did not kill Fredriksen. Though who then might have done still remains a mystery. And then this afternoon, Fredriksen’s youngest daughter was found dead in the very hotel room where her mother’s sister was found dead in 1932. Fredriksen himself was also there at the time, as one of a group of her friends. So I think I can say that I have never been involved in a more puzzling or tragic case.’

Again, there was a few moments’ silence at the other end.

‘It certainly sounds that way so far. I am sure that the case is both interesting and important. But for strictly personal reasons I do not think I should get involved in your investigation.’

That was, of course, where the problem lay. But now that it was staring me in the face I could solve it. The telephone line remained open.

I breathed in and out with the utmost control a few times. Then I said: ‘I can understand that. Miriam did not want me to contact you about the case either. But I felt that I now owed it to those young people to call you all the same. I believe that only you can help me. So that is why I called, without her knowing.’

I spoke in a hushed voice, even though I knew perfectly well that Miriam was sitting in a meeting a couple of miles away and that no one could hear the conversation.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. I looked at the clock to keep my mind focused in the pregnant silence and counted to nine before Patricia answered.

‘Well, if it is so important to you and for those young people, we will have to see if there is anything I can do to help. If you come here in half an hour, I will see if I can get the servants to whip something up for your dinner by half past seven.’

Patricia said this quickly and with determination. Then she put the receiver down without waiting for an answer.

I sat there with the mute receiver in my hand, and a feeling of enormous relief – tinged with a slight guilt.

The White House at 104-108 Erling Skjalgsson’s Street was just as impressive from the outside as I remembered it from previous visits. In the midst of my most complicated and bewildering murder case, there was something enormously calming and reassuring about the very sight of the Borchmanns’ monumental family home.

But this time it was tempered by a level of unease. I looked around before I parked the car, before I walked up to the house and before I rang the bell. But no one was following me on the almost empty evening street.

In terms of formality, I was still high and dry: I was officially simply visiting a friend. In reality, though, I would divulge information that could cost me my job if it were ever discovered. But I had done this many times before, and my concern about this side of the matter was minimal. I had known Patricia’s late parents since I was a child, and I was absolutely convinced that no information given by me would leak from here. I had successfully convinced myself that I had to do everything within my power to solve the murder case I was investigating.