Hans Lahlum - Chameleon People

I felt paralysed and for a few seconds did not know how to talk or what to say. My mind’s eye kept switching between the fully-dressed Patricia sitting in a wheelchair in front of me and the image of a naked Patricia in bed with a naked Johan Fredriksen. And I found this so distasteful that I unsuccessfully tried to shut both images out. But then I only saw the picture I had seen the night before. I was suddenly very curious about Patricia’s angry face and what they had been talking about.

Just then, she started to speak again, without waiting for any questions.

‘He is not exactly a dream prince, I know. A little too clumsy, a little too dull, and far too interested in figures and material things. But when you can’t stand upright, you can’t expect to choose from the top shelf. He is clean and good-looking, quite easy to get on with and reasonably educated. He came to Father’s funeral and was very considerate, then sent a Christmas card with a long handwritten message last year and the year before that. I answered the one from last Christmas in January. If you can’t have the one you love, then try to love the one you have. Other than your extremely sporadic visits, I have been sitting on my own here since I was fourteen. So I thought it was high time to try something new this year.’

That was another slap in the face. As she spoke, I suddenly saw a third Patricia – a sad, lonely young woman, full of longing. I should have realized before that she existed. And I should definitely have remembered to send her a Christmas card.

Then I thought about Patricia’s description of him as good-looking, and how I had been taken aback by how similar Johan Fredriksen looked to me. I wondered for a moment if what Patricia was actually saying now was that I was her dream man – and how I should then deal with that.

‘He is attentive and gives me presents and the like, he is always on time when we meet, and he has done his best to get me pregnant. I will give him that.’

Another blow. The thought of Patricia with a husband and children was alien and frightening. I had to admit to myself that I was very jealous now. I spontaneously asked, ‘But he has not succeeded, has he?’

To my relief, she shook her head straightaway. Her hand trembled as she lit another cigarette and she appeared to have regained her composure when she carried on speaking, but she did meet my eye.

‘No danger there. I have no idea if I can even have children after the accident, but I do know that I can’t as long as I take the pill. I want interesting company and sex. He wants sex and all my millions, I think. So we each get half of what we want, which seems pretty fair to me.’

I felt reassured and suddenly did not want to know any more details about her contact with Johan Fredriksen. I said that it sounded perfectly fair and then added: ‘I would have had a few less worries if I had known this earlier, but I am grateful for your honesty now and believe what you have told me. I think we can see that little mystery as solved now and get on with the investigation.’

Patricia nodded – with unusual swiftness and enthusiasm.

‘Yes, let’s do that. You fiancée is still missing and two recent murders are still unsolved. But I am afraid that I cannot help you with much more right now. There are still too many possibilities. But you can rule out Johan Fredriksen as far as the murders of his father and sister go. He was at home, and I was with him. And by the way, I have also tried to be the comforting girlfriend in the hope of getting a bit more information about the case, but he does not seem to know any more than what he has told you already. Which is a good thing. Johan may not be very exciting, but he is pretty honest and honourable. I think he just has one face; not a chameleon person in the slightest. I am in more doubt about how many of the others in his family and the group from 1932 you could say that about. I see the outline of several scenarios more and more clearly, but still lack some important details in order to know which ones are right.’

I realized that we would not get any further here and now, so I stood up and said that I would ring or come back as soon as I had more information.

She said that she would wait, and that I was welcome, no matter what time of day it was.

Given the circumstances, my difficult visit ended on rather a nice note. She had clearly not thought of visiting her lover today, or of him coming to see her.

On my way out, I found my thoughts were not focused on the investigation, only on what Patricia had just told me. I remembered that Johan Fredriksen had seemed a little grumpy this morning and wondered if I had been right when I thought that perhaps things were not going so well with his secret girlfriend. And then I was filled with a sense of almost childish triumph that Patricia had told me about him, but not him about me.

It was only once I was out on the street in the cold air that I realized that I had not thought about my missing fiancée at all during the second half of my visit to Patricia. This prompted another stab of guilt. It felt as though I had let Miriam down by sitting there talking to Patricia, when she had been kidnapped.

The drive back to the station was unexpectedly slow. I felt myself being pulled in all directions, and was certainly no longer giving the road my full attention.

It was ten to ten when I got back to the office. There was one message waiting for me there. And it was both interesting and ominous. Miriam’s mother had called and asked me to ring her as soon as I got back.

The fact was that Miriam’s mother had not been able to get hold of me because I was sitting with Patricia. This did nothing to salve my conscience.

I dialled the Lillehammer number straightaway and said: ‘I am so sorry, I was out in connection with the investigation and rang as soon as I saw your message. Do you have some news?’

Miriam’s mother replied in an even thicker dialect than normal: ‘Can I trust that we are speaking in confidence and that it will stay between us?’

I quickly said yes. I was calling on a direct line from my office and assured her that I would not pass on anything she told me if she did not want me to.

‘I am sorry that I had to ask, but my only daughter’s life is at risk. I got a telephone call this morning just after nine from a woman who said that she knew what had happened and that Miriam was still alive. She also thought she knew who had killed Per Johan Fredriksen. She had called you yesterday evening but did not get an answer, and did not want to ring the police station. I promised her I would ring and ask you to go to meet her alone outside the National Theatre at half past eleven. I did not recognize her voice and I am afraid that I couldn’t guess her age or anything like that.’

I thanked her for having called and said that I would of course go. Then I started to think about what she had said. In the meantime, she carried on speaking.

‘I feel slightly guilty about asking you to do this. It could possibly just be someone playing with us, or worse, there’s a danger that someone is planning to harm you. So you must think hard about what you do. But if you think there is any chance that it can help us get Miriam back alive, we obviously hope that you will take the chance.’

I had not thought of my own safety in all of this. I answered that I thought it was far more likely that this would help us get Miriam back alive than that I would be killed, and that I would go no matter what. If anyone wanted to harm me, there were less risky ways of doing that than asking me to meet them at one of the most public places in town.

Miriam’s mother said, in a slightly shaky voice, that she was worried that they would lose me too and that I must decide myself whether I told anyone else in the police or went alone.