‘Course. We have a lot to talk about.’
He nodded. I noticed that he looked tired, and I wondered how early he had set off from Oslo today. He signalled to the bartender and ordered a coffee and a cognac. He glanced at my glass, which was as good as empty. ‘Can I offer you another, Veum?’
‘Certainly can. Thank you.’
‘What are you drinking?’
‘Loiten Line. They didn’t have my regular tipple.’
He raised his eyebrows, but made no further comment about the choice. For himself, he chose a cognac from the top shelf, from where he was used to gathering his trophies.
‘Now,’ he said. ‘You had something new to tell me about the events of 1974, you said.’
‘Yes. You didn’t ask Jan Egil about it?’
‘No, not with the sergeant present.’ He ran his hand across his face. ‘It was the same as always. Flogging a point to death. The police asked the same questions again and again, in the hope that the witness would contradict himself. On top of that, we had the KRIPOS officers with us.’
‘I see. Did they have anything to bring to the case?’
‘It’s too early to say. They’re still at the information-gathering stage. Detectives are going from farm to farm to ask if people have anything to say, if they have seen or heard anything, and alongside that they’re making general assessments of Jan Egil, the Libakk couple and Silje Tveiten. But what we’re all waiting for now, of course, is the results of the forensics examination.’
‘And when are they expected?’
‘We haven’t been given a clear date yet.’
‘But I have something to tell you, Langeland.’
‘Yes, you said that.’
‘Yes, but about this case, too.’
I paused as the bartender came over to serve us. When everything was in place and we had said skal for the first time, I went on: ‘The murder victim Klaus Libakk was involved in the big contraband racket in 1973 when Silje’s father was murdered and Terje Hammersten was being fingered as the culprit.’
‘Whoa there, Veum. One thing at a time. Klaus Libakk was involved in the smuggling affair?’
‘Yes.’
I suddenly became aware of a guy in his late thirties sitting alone at the adjacent table. He was dark-haired with a bloated face and drunken eyes. He was clinging to a glass and staring ahead, with such rigid attention that I drew the conclusion he was either pissed and/or intensely following our conversation.
I lowered my voice still further and leaned across to Langeland. In succinct terms, I repeated what Haugen had told me an hour and a half earlier.
Langeland listened until I had finished without commenting. Then he got down to brass tacks. ‘This would actually suggest that Silje Tveiten can be said to have a motive.’
‘That presupposes at least three things, Langeland. First of all, that the rumours are true, about Libakk’s involvement, I mean. Secondly, that he had something to do with the murder of Ansgar Tveiten, and thirdly that Silje had somehow discovered this connection, and this was a case that the police had been forced to give up on. Pretty unlikely, if you ask me. The last presupposition, anyway. We’ll have to investigate the first two, of course.’
Langeland bent forward with an intense expression in his eyes. ‘Could you see your way to doing that, Veum? For me?’
‘Investigating these questions, you mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘No problem. I’ve worked for lawyers before, Langeland.’
‘I pay well. Money is no object.’
I passed my hand over the table. ‘We have a deal then. When shall I begin?’
He quickly shook my hand. ‘The sooner, the better.’
‘Regard me as hired from this minute. In that case I can tell you something else. You remember Mette Olsen, Jan Egil’s real mother?’
‘I certainly do. I represented her years ago. Where is this leading?’
‘Did you know that she’s moved to Jolster?’
‘To Jolster!’
‘Barely an hour’s drive from here. By Kjosnes fjord. I’m planning to look her up tomorrow. Are you interested in what might come out of the visit?’
‘Mette Olsen, so close to her own son… but have you checked?… This has to be a coincidence. Perhaps she has family up here.’
‘Most people in Bergen do. But I don’t believe much in coincidences, Langeland. Not when there’s a murder in their immediate vicinity anyway.’
‘No, of course not. No stone left unturned. You have my full support to visit her, but… tread warily. She’s had a tragic life.’
‘You aren’t her solicitor any more, I suppose?’
‘No, no. When I left Bergen, she must have found someone else. At any rate, I haven’t heard anything from her since then.’
‘So we have a deal on that point, too.’ I raised my glass for a skal, to seal our agreement.
‘But it was 1974 you were going to tell me about,’ he said, putting his glass down hard.
‘Yes. Jan Egil, when I was talking to him today, told me something I had never heard before. It’s about the day that Svein Skarnes died, if I can put it like that.
He leaned forward and watched me with those intense blue eyes of his, as if I were the prosecution witness in a case he was leading.
‘Jan Egil told me that on the day of Skarnes’s death in February, 1974, he was sitting in the lounge playing with his Marklin train when there was a ring at the door. The father opened and immediately a row ensued.’
‘A row. With whom?’
‘He doesn’t know. He was sitting and playing. He didn’t want to be disturbed.’
‘But there was a ring. So it wasn’t…’
‘No, probably not. In fact, Jan Egil said the same. His mum had a key after all. She wouldn’t have needed to ring.’
‘No, but she said herself at the time, I believe, that she rang first and then unlocked the door, as no one would open up.’
‘Yes, but that was later — after the fatal fall had occurred. And Jan Egil said, so far as we can trust him of course, ten years later, that it was a man’s voice he heard, apart from his father’s.’
‘A man!’ He paled visibly as the consequences of this dawned on him. ‘But then…’
‘As I said earlier today, Langeland, Vibecke Skarnes should probably have been acquitted.’
‘But why the hell did she confess? She did confess, Veum, and I never managed to persuade her to retract this confession.’
I nodded and leaned back in the chair. The man at the adjacent table waved to the bartender and ordered another whisky and soda. In ringing Bergensian tones, I noticed. ‘Just put it on the tab!’ he added.
‘There was a confession in the Hilleren case, too.’
‘Yes, but no body, Veum! We had one here. Besides…’ He hesitated.
‘We must both have wondered why she confessed, didn’t we?’
‘Indeed.’ He nodded. ‘To protect the boy. She was convinced he had done it.’
‘In fact he pushed me down the stairs straight afterwards, so the notion was not inconceivable.’
‘No, and he had bitten Skarnes until he bled a few months before. I’m sure that was the main reason why she decided not to maintain parental responsibility when she was released.’
‘She was frightened of him?’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll have to contact her. It may become relevant to consider a retrial, in my view. But… I don’t see any significance it may have for the current investigation.’
‘No, but that’s something I could examine as well, as I work my way into this case.’
