her life.’
‘And what can you put forward as evidence for all of this?’
‘We-ell… I suppose primarily we’re talking circumstantial evidence. But now we have Silje, who has in fact confessed…’
He interrupted me. ‘That confession is threadbare. I would even go so far as to say that the thread has worn through.’
‘And now we have Hammersten who could have a motive and who we can also assume to be handy with weapons and, furthermore, the capacity to undertake such a brutal act. Maybe his connection with Mette Olsen is another motive we should examine.’
‘And how do you explain away Jan Egil Skarnes grabbing a weapon, taking a hostage and fleeing up to Trodalen as soon as he sees a police officer in the yard?’
‘He didn’t take a hostage. They both deny that.’
‘OK, OK. So maybe they were playing Bonnie and Clyde, were they? Nevertheless. Him clearing off like that is a very strong piece of evidence in our eyes. Not to mention all the forensic evidence we’re painstakingly gathering. Let me make this absolutely clear, Veum. At this stage we have already passed the case up to the Public Prosecutor. I would be very surprised if charges are not drawn up by tomorrow. And they won’t be in the name of this Hammersten.’
‘So you’ve gone that far?’
‘To tell the truth… we’ve gone a lot further, Veum. Was there anything else you wanted?’
‘You should call him in though. For questioning, at least.’
‘Who are you talking about now?’
‘Hammersten.’
‘Yeah, yeah. I’ve made a note. We’re not stupid, Veum. Was there anything else?’
‘Not at the moment.’
‘Then I’ll bid you a good evening, Veum.’
‘Thank you and the same to you.’
I rang off. Then I tried Grethe’s number again. As she didn’t reply this time either, I went downstairs to eat. In the dining room I saw Jens Langeland sitting alone at one of the tables. I went over and asked if I could keep him company.
He brightened up. ‘Naturally! And now I hope you have some good cards up your sleeve, Veum, for otherwise I’m afraid things are looking grim, in all ways.’
‘I’ve got something anyway,’ I said, fetching a menu, pulling out a chair and joining him.
34
I ordered sea trout in a cream sauce with cucumber salad and Norwegian almond potatoes. To drink, I treated myself to half a bottle of white wine. ‘I’ll put it on the bill,’ I said to Langeland and winked.
He nonchalantly waved the matter aside. It wouldn’t be him paying it, anyway. ‘Let me hear what you’ve found out, Veum.’
I gave him a brief summary of what I had been doing, told him about my visits to Mette Olsen and Trude Tveiten, as well as Terje Hammersten in a not insignificant supporting role.
He listened with particular interest when I came to the part about Ansgar Tveiten. ‘We can use this, Veum! This is brilliant! A connection between the murder in 1973 and the current double murder, linked by the smuggling in which both Tveiten and Klaus Libakk were involved. And this Hammersten, he turned up in Jolster on Monday evening, did he?’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘Is it possible to find out when he came to Sunnfjord? And, for example, if he had been there the night before?’
‘It’s possible to make enquiries, anyway.’
‘So let’s do that! We need everything that can point in the opposite direction to the path the police chose quite some time ago.’
‘Yes, I’ve just spoken to Standal. He indicated that charges would be drawn up tomorrow.’
‘Yes, that wouldn’t surprise me. But they can’t hold him in custody much longer, so…’
‘Are the pathologist’s and the forensic reports through yet?’
‘I haven’t been given them, if they are. But forget that! With what you’ve unearthed we already have a good hand.’ He was positively exploding with renewed energy. ‘This will create problems for them. Ha!’ He thrust his finger forward in the way that a torero delivers the coup de grace to a bull at the festive table the day afterwards.
‘You show an impressive commitment to the case. I must say that…’
‘My goodness, Veum! I’ve been following Jan… Jan Egil since he was born, so to speak.’
‘Yes, I’d heard you were Mette Olsen’s solicitor back in 1966.’
‘No, no. I was just a solicitor’s clerk then. But I remember the case well. It was a tragic story. Her friend took his life while in prison.’
‘Jan’s father.’
‘What? Oh, yes, exactly.’ He ruminated before continuing. ‘A tragic story, as I said. Now and then you wonder what makes otherwise talented individuals take such decisions. My God! I think it was close on half a kilo’s worth of hash he was carrying when he was arrested. And she…’
‘… knew nothing, you had persuaded her to say.’
‘Right.’ He raised both hands in defence. ‘He was the one carrying all the dope. What purpose would it serve if she also went to prison for knowing all about it?’
‘Hmm… That’s one way of looking at it.’
He leaned closer. ‘Mette Olsen was not like she is now, Veum. I can assure you of that! She was a gifted young girl, sweet and charming. But she had made a fatal decision, too. She went to Copenhagen, played the hippie and got a taste for — well, this and that. We did what we could to get her back on an even keel. Believe me
… This was one of the very first of my cases, and I was committed to it even though Bakke was in charge. A High Court barrister, if I may
…’
‘So you wash your hands of it?’
He splayed them. ‘Yes, in fact I do. All that transpired later was beyond our jurisdiction. But tiny Johnny boy, I’ve always done what I can to help him, right from the very first moment.’
I nodded. ‘Well… that’s admirable, that is, anyway.’
‘And this business with Terje Hammersten, I’ll get the police onto that. They won’t get away with it. But you check it out, too, Veum. I’m paying!’ He stood up. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to retire. I have to make a few calls. This is not the only case I have, unfortunately. I wish you a pleasant evening…’
He walked to the door. As if on cue, Hans Haavik appeared in the foyer. He and Langeland exchanged a few words as they passed each other. Langeland left and Hans looked around the room, as I had done.
Catching sight of me, he came over to the table. ‘Hi, Varg. Can I join you?’
I motioned towards the used napkin on the other side of the table. ‘Langeland’s just gone. Someone’ll come and set the table if you ask them.’
The efficient waiter was already at hand. The place was cleared and Hans sat down with a bump on his side of the table. He ordered the same as I had, except for the wine. He made do with a jug of water. I was now on dessert, a hot blueberry tart with ice cream.
‘One thing I’d like to ask you, Hans, since you were a relative of the deceased. Who is the heir? Have you any opinion on that?’
He stared into middle distance, lost in thought. ‘They had no children of their own, so if they haven’t written a will, I suppose everything will go to the nearest relative.’
‘Would Jan Egil qualify?’
