manages a large department at Nokia. . By the way. . have you asked my husband where
“We have. . it turns out that
“I’m sure Detective that you will find plenty of video evidence that will show exactly where I was during those one-and-a-half hours if you work hard at it. . and treat me just like my husband.”
“Rest assured I will. . but first you must tell me
“I don’t remember.”
“Maybe you drove north to Trondheim?”
“I don’t know.”
“Or down south towards Copenhagen?”
“I don’t know.”
“Or did you drive out to Stockholm?”
“I don’t know.”
“Alright. But don’t say that I didn’t try to help you Fru Haugen.”
“How?. . How would you help me?”
“I gave you a chance. . to give me the information that would send your husband to prison. But you decided to play coy with me. You thought I’d come running after your lies and half-truths if you dangled some small piece of information in front of me. Big mistake.”
“Big nothing. . I saw that you Mister Big Detective had already made up your mind. There was nothing I could say. I know your type. You’re the kind of man that makes people lie. . you ask questions that you know will get lies for answers.”
“You should’ve tried telling the truth for once Fru Haugen.”
“I know men like you. . you manipulate women with your questions. . your innuendos.”
“You have anything else to say?”
“No. Not to you. Ever.”
“Fine. Stand up Fru Haugen. You are under arrest. Constable Wangelin. . please handcuff her.”
Three hours later at 12 Hammersborggata Chief Inspector Sohlberg and Constable Wangelin sat down in an interview room with a much more subdued Agnes Haugen.
Like most middle class suspects Agnes Haugen had been humbled if not humiliated by the fingerprinting and the mug shots and the obligatory strip search and the regulation jumpsuit. At Sohlberg’s instructions the guards kept him informed of all of the abuse and insults and taunts and threats of hardened ex-con female prisoners who wanted a piece of the woman arrested for kidnaping the little boy Karl Haugen.
Sohlberg studied Agnes Haugen as gently and carefully as a man inspects a rattlesnake at close range.
“What do you want?” said Agnes Haugen with contempt. “I told you Mister Detective that I would never tell you anything about the case. Never. I want my lawyer.”
“Fru Haugen. . I’m not here to ask you questions or listen to you. You are here to listen and listen good to what I’m going to say.”
“I want my lawyer.”
“He’s on his way. But first you will hear me out.”
Agnes Haugen crossed her arms and hummed a ditty.
“Fru Haugen. . you made several mistakes. . mistakes that will defeat your ultimate plan of framing your husband for
“You’re an idiot.”
“Maybe. But you brilliantly planned the kidnaping and murder of that innocent little boy months if not years in advance. Your problem was choosing the wrong accomplice.”
Chapter 15
INTERROGATION OF OLAV TVIET AND
INTERROGATION OF DANICA KNUTSEN,
AFTERNOON OF 1 YEAR AND 28 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY, FRIDAY, JUNE 4
Everyone on the top floor of 12 Hammersborggata felt the frenzied activity that was typical of a major case drawing to a close. Sohlberg sent out five teams of two detectives each to gather evidence at the Haugen residence and the school and the condominium of Danica Knutsen. A harried and exhausted Wangelin coordinated the incoming and outgoing telephone calls and text messages. A secretary ordered sandwiches and beer.
“Ah. . perfect,” said Sohlberg as he picked up four egg salad sandwiches from a tray of gargantuan open- faced sandwiches that older Norwegians favor. “I miss these sandwiches. I can’t think of many other countries where they make open-faced sandwiches. Aren’t you having any?”
Wangelin smiled and shook her head. “I’m having a salad.”
Sohlberg felt old and old-fashioned upon realizing that Wangelin and the younger detectives had ordered salad bowls from a nearby health food store. “Ja. I should’ve had a salad like you.”
Sohlberg and Wangelin ate together in silence in his cubicle office. He devoured his four sandwiches in less than 10 minutes but he did not touch the beer.
Wangelin twice started to say something but she immediately stopped herself. Sohlberg felt that she wanted to ask him why he never drank any alcohol which state of affairs was an oddity for a senior detective. Or perhaps she wanted to warn him of the increased risk of heart attack from his four egg salad sandwiches. Either way Sohlberg felt more than ever like the proverbial odd fish out of water in his own country. He looked forward to returning to America with Fru Sohlberg.
A few minutes after two o’clock Sohlberg and Wangelin took the elevator down to the third floor to interview 43-year-old Olav Tveit. The man had called headquarters the day before and insisted on speaking with the detective in charge of the Karl Haugen case.
Unlike other detectives who ignored or turned away potential witnesses Sohlberg was always accessible to talk with anyone who wanted to discuss a case with him. Of course this led to many bizarre interviews with unhinged citizens who claimed to be psychics or that aliens from outer space had committed certain crimes. Sohlberg had nevertheless gleaned many valuable tips and evidence from walk-in interviews.
The modestly dressed man shambled into the room with a defeated and sad air. He reminded Sohlberg of drastically diminished men who retain the smidgen of dignity that is just enough to avoid suicide or a murderous rampage. Wangelin made the obligatory introductions and legal statements after turning on the video and microphones.
“I’m here,” said Olav Tveit, “because I should have told you. . about some information. . I had it a year ago when you people were investigating the Karl Haugen case. I don’t know why I withheld it. . I was unemployed. . depressed. . I wasn’t thinking straight. . I needed time to think about everything that had happened.”
“What information?” said Sohlberg. He tried not to sound too excited about the proffered information.
“I dated Danica Knutsen for three years. . we met at the gym. . she used to be full of energy. . she was mostly vegetarian and ran marathons and used to compete in iron-man contests with fifty miles of swimming and running and bicycling.
“She was smart. . full of curiosity about the world. . and very very honest. But about eighteen or maybe nineteen months ago. . her personality completely changed after she lost her job as a receptionist at a downtown law firm.
“She bragged that she’d get a job in two weeks. . of course that never happened. I mean. . who over age forty finds a good job in today’s economy?. . After three weeks she went on unemployment. . she grew obsessed
