Jens Langeland came over to me and we shook hands. ‘Veum… Long time, no see. But I heard about your exploits yesterday. It sounds like you averted a disaster.’
‘Hmm. He must have trusted me for some reason.’
‘It’s not customary for us to let you slip in to see him on your own,’ Standal broke in. ‘But since he insisted with such vehemence, and because of what happened yesterday, we’ll take the risk.’
‘I’ll see what he has to say. May I exchange a couple of words with Langeland in private first?’
Standal eyed me sceptically, and I added: ‘Well, after all, he is his solicitor, isn’t he.’
‘Fine, fine…’
‘I need a bit of background info before I go in.’
Standal nodded, and Langeland and I walked off from the others.
He had kept his characteristic wading-bird-like appearance: tall, lean and slightly stooped. His nose had a pronounced curve. His hair had thinned, with deep inroads, and there were the first signs of silvering around his ears.
I had followed him from a distance. He had had a dazzling career, thus far. The talent I had seen sprouting when he defended Vibecke Skarnes had later blossomed. He achieved his great breakthrough in what was known as the Hilleren case in 1978. After confessing, a man was charged with murdering his neighbour. He indicated where he had dumped the body into the sea, but the body was never found, and Langeland had him acquitted, despite the fact that he maintained his guilt to the very end. Langeland’s final summing up of the case had gone down in court history as a dazzling defence plea using guilt and atonement as central concepts and emphasising the significance of avoiding a possible travesty of justice. After this Langeland was taken to the capital by a large firm of lawyers, and his career as a defence barrister had taken off in earnest. Today he belonged to the highest stratum of defence counsels, among the first to be called in when spectacular cases were mooted anywhere in the country. In this light, the double murder in Angedalen was not at all untypical, with the additional piquant minor detail that ten years earlier he had been the defence counsel for Jan Egil’s foster mother in another but nowhere near as sensational murder case.
‘I just have to ask you, Langeland. Vibecke Skarnes… how did she get on?’
‘I know very little about her, Veum. I managed to trace her this morning to tell her what had happened before she read it in the papers.’
‘You met her?’
‘No, I told her on the phone. She lives in Ski, just outside Oslo.’
‘How long has she been out?’
‘She was released after a year and a half, and since then hasn’t needed any legal help, to my knowledge.’
‘So she didn’t hire you for this case?’
‘No, not at all. I was, of course, Jan Egil’s solicitor even back then. It was quite a complicated case, let me tell you, from a purely legal point of view. Having a conviction did not relieve Vibecke Skarnes of the parental responsibility she had as a foster mother. Nevertheless, she chose not to insist on keeping it, primarily out of consideration for Jan Egil himself. She thought it would be untenable for Jan Egil to be looked after in a foster home in the intervening period and then return to her after she had served her sentence. That was why she asked me to take care of the case, both the legal and other aspects. I was myself here in Forde to assess the new foster home before it was approved.’
‘So you met the two — deceased?’
‘Yes, but just the once, in September 1974. Subsequently neither they nor Jan Egil had any need for my services until… well, now. The arrangement was that social services had registered my name, and they notified me last night about what had happened.’
‘Does that mean that you’ve been officially appointed to represent Jan Egil?’
He flashed a quick smile. ‘I’m certainly taking the case, Veum. This is a boy I will do my utmost to help.’
‘Good. So we’re on the same team. If you should need my assistance
…’
He nodded and gave me a searching look. ‘Don’t rule out the possibility. Let’s come back to that as soon as we’ve been given a rough summary of the situation.’
‘So who actually has parental responsibility now?’
‘Officially, it’s still Vibecke Skarnes.’
‘But she…’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m thinking about what happened in 1974 when she confessed to killing her husband…’
‘No, no. She always claimed that it was self-defence, that it was an accident…’
‘Yes, of course, but — Johnny boy — Jan Egil was the only person who was present at the incident, as far as we know. And now there is another murder — a double murder — here, again with Jan as the only person in the house at the time…’
‘We need further information about that particular point, Veum. He tells quite a different story.’
‘What does he say?’
‘I assume you will hear it if he’s asked to talk to you. Besides, there is, in fact, another person who has confessed.’
‘I know, and that was exactly why I wanted to ask you: is it conceivable that the same thing has happened as in 1974?’
‘I’m not quite with you there.’
‘Is it conceivable that the mother assumed the guilt for what her own son — or adopted son, that is — had done that time, to spare him the psychological damage, in the same way that another girl is doing now?’
‘No, no. That’s just speculation, Veum. I thought you said we were on the same team?’
‘A last question, Langeland. Did Jan Egil ever find out that Vibecke Skarnes was not his real mother?’
‘Not as far as I know. The only person who can answer that is he himself. And I doubt if this is the right time to broach the matter.’
‘Right, but then… let’s talk later, Langeland.’
‘Let’s do that.’
I nodded and turned to go. Silje and her parents had gone into another office, followed by Grethe, the woman I presumed was her solicitor and the policewoman. Standal and Ruset stood waiting for us to finish.
‘OK, Veum,’ said Standal. ‘Ready to go in?’
‘I’m ready.’
‘You did a good job up there last night. That’s why I’m permitting this. But I expect something in return.’
‘Oh?’
‘A confession, Veum. It would be good if you could manage that.’
Jens Langeland gave an admonitory cough behind us. ‘Er, I don’t think you should be leading Veum on, Standal.’
Standal, peeved, glared at the nationally celebrated barrister. He had a fair inkling of what would be awaiting him if they ever met in court. ‘Of course not, herr advokat Langeland. We will take note.’
Then he exerted his authority and led me to the partition door. And, without saying another word, escorted me in to see Jan Egil.