Hans Lahlum - Satellite People

Rønning Junior rushed to his client’s aid, in a long-winded way.

‘May I be permitted to say, Detective Inspector, that you are now making very serious accusations indeed on rather flimsy evidence. We seem to be caught in a classic situation of one person’s word against another’s – in this case yours against my client’s – as to whether she was at the scene of the crime or not. And according to the fundamental principles of law, her word carries as much weight as yours. I would therefore like to ask why my client has not been confronted with this charge before, when you claim to have identified her already on the night of the murder?’

I nodded.

‘A very timely question, sir. The answer is that there was still a good deal of uncertainty regarding the involvement of your client’s mother, and that we were waiting for stronger evidence, which we now have.’

All three stared at me in silence, Maria Irene with an apparently genuine look of surprise and slightly raised eyebrows.

I produced the pistol and showed that there were six bullets left in the magazine before putting it down on the table.

‘This is the murder weapon. The two bullets that are missing are the one that killed Synnøve Jensen and the warning shot that I fired over the murderer’s head. You and your mother found the weapon hidden in the secret passage in Schelderup Hall. You used it without knowing that this was the gun your father had used to liquidate two other members of the Resistance group he was in during the war.’

Maria Irene shook her head resolutely.

‘I did not know that my father had shot anyone from the Resistance during the war and have never seen that pistol before now. And I knew nothing about the secret passage until this morning.’

I hurried on as soon as she had closed her mouth.

‘It is quite probably the case that you did not know about your father’s crimes during the war. But it is not true that you have never seen this pistol, or that you have never been in the secret passage.’

I took a short, dramatic pause.

‘You will perhaps remember that at an earlier stage of the investigation I danced with you briefly in your room?’

Both lawyers were once again taken aback. Maria Irene nodded, with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

‘This breach of normal investigation standards was made solely in the hope of securing evidence in the case. Which I did.’

I opened my briefcase and took out another object which I then placed on the table. The red diamond and gold chain sparkled in the light.

‘You can, I presume, confirm that you were wearing this diamond?’

Maria Irene suddenly understood the connection. She looked first at the diamond, then at me, then back at the diamond, her eyes darkening as she thought. Her voice was still impressively controlled when she answered.

‘No. You must have remembered wrong. I have never seen that necklace before and have certainly never worn it!’

The silence in the room when she finished speaking was breathless. I stared at her with a thrilled awe. The eighteen-year-old Maria Irene Schelderup lied without so much as a flutter. Just as I hoped she would.

So I continued to follow Patricia’s plan and swiftly carried on.

‘Neither you nor your mother perhaps knew that this is an extremely valuable diamond that has been missing since 1915, when your grandparents were paid a considerable sum in insurance because they claimed that the necklace had been stolen. But you do know, all too well, that you were wearing this diamond when you danced with me. It was hidden in the secret passage, along with the pistol that was used in the murder. You had taken the diamond from there without your mother knowing.’

Maria Irene shook her head again. Her voice was still controlled and her cheeks were still dry.

‘I can only repeat, absolutely no. I had never seen the pistol before you put it down on the table, I have never been in the secret passage, and I have never seen that necklace before.’

Her lawyer’s voice was slightly more uncertain, but still firm when he again offered his services.

‘We are, without a doubt, still in a situation where it is one person’s word against the other’s: that is, that of the detective inspector against that of my client, as was the case before. My young client’s word is still no less credible than your own.’

I nodded blithely.

‘Of course not. Providing that your young client can give a credible explanation as to why her fingerprints are then on the necklace.’

The expression ‘deadly silent’ suddenly seemed appropriate. Three pairs of eyes were trained on Maria Irene. She was completely still, almost as if dead, on her chair. I tried to keep an eye on the second hand of the clock on the wall behind her. Every second felt like a minute. After forty insufferably long seconds, Maria Irene turned to her lawyer and asked: ‘Do I have to answer that now?’

‘No. You are in no way legally obliged to answer the detective inspector’s question here and now.’

It was Rønning Junior who broke the electric silence between her and me.

‘I am, however, obliged to inform you that with regard to any future trial, it would clearly be considered a major issue in terms of evidence if you are not able to give a credible answer now to the detective inspector’s highly relevant question.’

The clock on the wall ticked on for another fifty seconds. Maria Irene moved her mouth twice as if she was about to speak, but then stopped both times without making a sound.

I should have had ample time to prepare myself for an explosion. I had previously discovered that incredibly calm people often erupt violently under extreme pressure. And I already knew that Maria Irene had a mother with an explosive temperament. But she sat there, apparently still calm and composed, and with such a relaxed face that it took us all off guard when in a furious rage she swept the necklace off the table and grabbed the gun. I only vaguely registered that both lawyers dived under the table, from either side.

Maria Irene leapt up and took three feather-light steps back, keeping her eyes trained on me. Her eyes were glittering so fiercely that for a second I was seriously afraid that they would fire splinters out into the room.

For a brief moment I felt once again the same strong desire for physical contact with Maria Irene that I had experienced a couple of days earlier in her room. But everything had changed in the intervening forty-eight hours. She had not only killed another young woman, she had also lied to me in cold blood. When I was now confronted with her true egotistical and heartless self, all I wanted to do was to strike the pistol from her hand and twist her arms hard up behind her back.

I relived for a second the moment in my last case when I suddenly found myself staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Despite the instinctive feeling of unease, I also felt a deep sense of satisfaction and triumph. Maria Irene’s soft iron mask had finally shattered. Her eyes were burning and her slim hand trembled dangerously with the weight of the pistol. When she broke the silence, her voice was also trembling dangerously.

‘I did not think you were that intelligent!’ she said, with a delightful undertone of desperation.

I relished the apparently menacing situation, and mentally thanked Patricia for her meticulous preparation before I answered.

‘In which case you have underestimated me again. Because I was certainly smart enough to replace the bullets in the murder weapon with blanks before putting it down within your reach,’ I told her, with hard-won composure.

And in the most incredible fashion, all the tension in the room dissolved into what could almost be described as a relaxed peace in the course of a few seconds. I remained seated and observed the threatening spark die in Maria Irene’s eyes. Then I got up and reached for the pistol. She stood and hesitated for a moment before she slowly gave it to me. Her hand was no longer shaking, and for a moment I thought I caught the hint of a smile.