Ja. That was her job with a master’s degree in education — Assistant Manager of the McDonald’s hamburger restaurant at Torgny Segerstedts Vei 11. She had even been named “Assistant Manager of the Month” for having the best sales for the drive-through in the afternoon.
How special of the Little Froken Genius.
“Honey,” she screeched, “go get our bags and I’ll see you in the driveway. Chop chop! We’re running late. Don’t forget to make sure that my deodorant is in my bag. Last time you forgot to check.”
“Ja my sweet.”
She flew down the stairs. He waited briefly for her to get out of the house because her cloud of cheap drugstore perfume gagged him. She blew the car horn twice to rush him.
“How stupid of me winding up with her in my bed and my house,” he whispered to himself. “But Little Miss Genius is always one or two steps ahead of me.”
In hindsight he should have known better than to sleep around with a McDonald’s Assistant Manager of the Month especially when he was a highly-educated man with an enviable high-paying job that most Norwegians could only dream about. He should have known that she saw him as the ultimate meal ticket and that she would never stop pursuing him until she had a marriage ring on her hand and their baby in a crib.
“How very stupid of me,” he said under his breath now that he had finally come to realize that he could not divorce her. Never. Otherwise she would tell the world about the molestation.
Little Froken Blackmailer. Ja. . that would be an interesting issue for her to bring up with the courts and the media and the police.
Wouldn’t it?
She had him cornered!
He wondered why he had told her about the molestation in the first place.
Why did he?
“Coming!” he yelled when she blew the car horn repeatedly.
He did not look forward to spending the endless light-filled nights under the midnattsol with her. He could not stand being near her or hearing her or seeing her or smelling her. And yet she had trapped him in a loveless marriage built on lies and discontent. A cage with no escape.
When would this torture end?
He had absolutely no guarantee whatsoever that an end was in sight. There was no sunset in the horizon for his troubles. He couldn’t and wouldn’t even have the pleasure of torturing and killing her because she surely had her blackmailer’s information conveniently tucked away somewhere ready to be released by someone in case of her death or grievous injury.
That’s it. I have to find out if she has any blackmail information on me tucked away somewhere where it’s ready to be released if she dies or winds up badly injured. If she doesn’t then I’m going to literally rip her to pieces.
The Otterstads sent their oldest son Leif to pick up the Sohlbergs at exactly 8:00 P.M. in one of the Otterstad’s motorboats. As usual the boat was a Beneteau from France where the 120-year-old company kept Mathias Otterstad on a short waiting list for new powerboats like the
“Wow,” said Fru Sohlberg to her husband when the breathtaking 49-foot Beneteau
“She’s a beaut. . ain’t she?” said 22-year-old Leif Otterstad while he helped Fru Sohlberg come on board. “So are you Fru Sohlberg!”
Both Sohlbergs laughed.
“I’m serious,” said Leif. “Fru Sohlberg is a good-looking woman.”
Harald Sohlberg nodded while his wife said:
“Well thank you Leif. This boat is incredible. . it looks like an elegant torpedo on steroids.”
Leif gave them a quick tour of the luxurious interior and then raced the boat south around Malmoya Island and then north across the Oslofjord. They drew gaping stares from everyone who saw them. The trip to the Otterstads took less than 20 minutes before they approached the northwest shores of Malmoya Island.
Although Malmoya and Ulvoya islands are separated by less than half a mile of water there’s quite a big jump in net worth and income for those who live on the bigger island of Malmoya. Sohlberg spotted the Otterstad dock the minute he saw a massive Beneteau
“I want to go home,” said Karl Haugen.
The woman with kind eyes said, “This is your new home.”
“No! I want my Daddy. I want to go home.”
The woman tied to hug the little boy but he turned away from her and started crying.
A crowd of about 50 adults and children on the beach cheered when the Sohlbergs stepped out of the boat and onto the dock. Matthias and Nora Otterstad waved at them from a bench under a grove of cedars.
The two couples hugged.
“Welcome Emma and Harald!” said the always effusive Nora Otterstad. “I’m so glad you’re here. Finally home. Will you stay this time and live here in Oslo?”
“Who knows,” said Fru Sohlberg before Sohlberg could say anything.
“Ja. Who knows,” said Matthias Otterstad, “After all. . Interpol is somewhat like the French Foreign Legion. . you never really know where you are going to posted, eh?”
“True,” said Fru Sohlberg while Harald Sohlberg nodded.
Nora Otterstad pointed at two long tables. “Now come along Emma. Let’s get something to drink and eat for us and our boys. . I’ll also introduce you to some folks you may not know.”
The women left for the enormous koldtbord that offered amazing mountains of glazed and smoked and marinated and broiled salmon and kreps or crayfish and orret or mountain trout and all sorts of cold cuts from Norway and Italy including prosciutto and mortadella along with salads and breads and pastries and desserts.
“It’s been a long time,” said Matthias Otterstad, “since we met in person eh?”
“Ja.”
“I saw your parents before they left for Texas. I invited them over for dinner.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you did that. They rarely go out any more. . even during those few weeks when they’re here in Norway.”
“I was surprised I found them here and not in Houston. . You’re very lucky that they’re still around. And in overall good shape for folks in their mid-eighties.”
“I’d be glad to be in half as good health as they are when I get that age.”
“I understand Emma joined a cult.”
“What?. . Did my mother. . or father tell you that?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Just what cult are you talking about?”
“You know. . that cult from America. . Maybe I shouldn’t have used that word. But it’s something I’ve been very curious about.”
“Matthias. . I’ve also been very curious about something and yet I never asked you about it for years and years.”
“Go ahead.”
“As I remember. . you faced nasty lawsuits. . you prevailed in the lower courts and won again at the Supreme Court. . until two justices mysteriously switched their votes and recalled their original opinion in your favor. . You lost a lot of money and swore you’d get even. . Right?”
“So far you’re right Sohlberg.”
“Well now. . you can finally tell me. .were you the anonymous tipster who led me to find all that corruption in the courts?. . Did you do that to get even with those two crooked justices?”
“Harald why would you think that?”
