Hans Lahlum - Satellite People

Patricia stopped abruptly, looked at me, and then carried on.

‘He needed an assistant to ensure that the game continued and of course chose his loyal and dependable secretary, Synnøve Jensen, who was the only person who really cared about him. She continued to orbit him even after his death and loyally posted out the letters as instructed. Presumably, he had also told her that the letters might be important to the police investigation should more people than just himself be killed. She would never understand the danger in which her dead lover’s game placed her. But she sensed after a while that something was not right, and rang you to tell you about the letters. Unfortunately she was a bit slow on the uptake and ended up calling you just minutes too late to save her own life.’

I had finally regained the power of speech and felt the irritation and wonder growing.

‘So I have been leading a murder investigation for five days when in fact there has been no murder, in a legal sense. Now, do not come here and tell me that Synnøve Jensen’s death was not a murder and that it was not a murderer whom I chased that night?’

Patricia shook her head and was deadly serious.

‘Absolutely not. Synnøve Jensen was without question murdered and you were chasing a cold-blooded and egotistical murderer that night; a person who, without knowing the truth about Magdalon Schelderup’s death, had seen an opportunity and taken the chance in the chaos that ensued. And while we do not need to fear any further action from the man who sprinkled the nuts on Magdalon Schelderup’s food, there is a considerable danger that the person who shot Synnøve Jensen might strike again. There is in fact every reason to fear that this person is planning to strike again tonight, again at one of the remaining guests. I cannot of course be 100 per cent certain, as the risk is enormous. But the gains are so great and the chances of getting away with it so good that I believe the murderer will take that risk tonight.’

I stood up without thinking.

‘That’s terrible,’ I exclaimed, spontaneously.

Patricia looked up at me with absolute calm.

‘Yes and no. It is terrible, but it could also be perfect. You may have another chance to do what you nearly did yesterday: that is, to catch the murderer in person at the scene of the crime. Even though I am fairly certain of who it is you are chasing, there are still potentially two people who might turn up tonight. However, you should get in touch as soon as possible with the person who is at risk of being murdered.’

I nodded earnestly.

‘In which case, where should I hide tonight?’

There was no turning back now, so Patricia did not hesitate for a moment.

‘In Fredrik Schelderup’s flat. Ensure that there are no policemen visibly standing guard and conceal yourself somewhere inside.’

‘Please excuse a silly question, but how will the murderer get in?’

Patricia gave another of her bitterest smiles.

‘Perhaps pure luck, but that is in fact not such a silly question. They will in this case come through the door, using the key from Magdalon Schelderup’s missing key ring. So check first that Fredrik Schelderup has not changed the locks, and make sure that he does not put the safety chain on. It would be rather a shame if the murderer could not get in to be arrested.’

I agreed and got ready to leave. However, Patricia waved at me to stop.

‘Just a couple of quick final things. We have already seen how cold-blooded the person who killed Synnøve Jensen is, so beware, and please keep your wits about you. And get some rest first. I can guarantee that nothing will happen before a quarter past eleven at the earliest, and possibly not until a few hours later, so you still have plenty of time.’

I nodded. My trust in Patricia was without limit following the day’s performance and her concern for me gave a touch of warmth in what was otherwise such a cold, cynical case.

‘And the second thing?’

‘I will keep the telephone within easy reach tonight. Call me if you have to during the night, but if you can wait until tomorrow morning sometime after eight, it would be preferable. I tend not to sleep very well during murder investigations.’

She had my full understanding for that and I promised to call her as soon as the night’s mission had been accomplished.

I ordered a constable to guard Fredrik Schelderup’s home at a discreet distance and in civilian clothes until eleven o’clock that evening, when I would myself take over.

Then I rang Fredrik Schelderup and fortunately this time was greeted by his easy-going, jocular self. I gave the situation a positive slant and promised that I would grant him permission to travel to South America tomorrow if there had not been an arrest before then. In the meantime, we would guard his home and I would myself spend the night in his flat. I joked that he would no doubt rather have a beautiful young woman to stay overnight, but hopefully the fact that she would instead be allowed to travel abroad with him tomorrow might be acceptable compensation. He immediately agreed to this and said, before putting down the phone, that in that case he had better call her and tell her to start packing.

I myself went to bed around seven for three hours’ kip, with the alarm clock set for ten. This went unexpectedly well. Only a couple of times did an image of the remaining candidates flicker through my mind, but I was still none the wiser as to who it was that I had chased the night before, or who I might meet in Fredrik Schelderup’s home that night. I fell asleep at ten past seven, strangely secure in the knowledge that a solution was close at hand.

At a quarter past eleven I took over from the constable outside Fredrik Schelderup’s home, and rang the doorbell. My host was far from entertaining company now. He complained of getting a headache after his first glass of the evening and that he drank a couple more without it helping much. He went to bed around half past eleven, which, according to him, was the earliest he had gone to bed for several years – that is to say, when the intention was to sleep.

To begin with, I managed only too well without his company, but soon time started to drag as I sat at my post behind the door in the living room. By one o’clock, I was very sceptical of Patricia’s prediction, and by two I was thoroughly bored of the whole thing. The cigarette smoke that impregnated the walls made me more and more drowsy. At half past two, I caught myself dozing off for a couple of seconds.

But then at a quarter to three, I found myself wide awake on hearing a muffled sound by the front door. All my senses were on full alert by the time the door was opened with great caution a couple of minutes later.

A person about half a head shorter than me, dressed in trousers and a shirt, with a nylon stocking pulled down over the head, tiptoed in. I caught a glimpse of a key ring in the person’s left hand. The figure then glided silently across the floor towards the door to Fredrik Schelderup’s bedroom. The intruder was holding a small pistol in their right hand, but he or she appeared to be otherwise unarmed.

I was unable to identify the person in the pitch-dark. It was only when I slipped up behind the intruder and put my hand round their right upper arm that I knew that it was without doubt a woman.

I did not have time to think any more. The pistol fell onto the floor with a thud and then slid under a chair when I grabbed her arm. I had obviously instinctively thought that the drama would then be over, as the intruder was a woman who was not only smaller, but also slighter than me. However, the next shock was greater for me than for her. In her fright, she let out a piercing scream and with a furious movement managed to twist out of my grasp.