The Consorts of Death

33

It was six o’clock when I arrived at the hotel. There were no messages for me in reception. I went to my room, found Grethe’s telephone number and dialled. No one answered. I rang down to reception and asked if Jens Langeland or Hans Haavik were in. Langeland was out. Haavik was in his room. Did I want to speak to him? I considered for a moment and ended up saying no.

My body felt strangely restless. Maybe it was a side effect of the blow I received in Dale, or else it was something I had heard in the course of the day, a bit of information I still hadn’t managed to sift out from all the rest. Something that had invaluable significance for the development of the case, unless, as things were progressing, I should begin to say: cases.

The latter reflection caused me to ring the police offices and ask for Standal. He was in, but what surprised me most was that he was willing to talk to me.

‘Yes?’ his voice came on to the telephone.

‘Veum here.’

‘Yes, so I heard. What do you want?’

‘Anything new?’

‘Nothing you have any right to know, anyway.’

‘Well, right… Listen to me for a moment, Standal. I may have something to tell you that you don’t know.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Have you taken out the old 1973 murder file yet? Ansgar Tveiten. The illicit alcohol business. We touched on it yesterday.’

For a moment the line went quiet.

‘We’ve got the file, yes. But so far we haven’t had time to look into the material in any depth. It’s quite a pile, Veum.’

‘I don’t doubt it. But it was shelved.’

‘Not shelved. It’s incorrect to say that. In active abeyance, we call it. We’re still gathering information for the case.’

‘OK. Then that’s perhaps what you’re doing now.’

‘And by that you mean…?’

‘Let me remind you what the lawyers Langeland and Bratet told us yesterday. That Silje Tveiten, as she is still called, is Ansgar Tveiten’s daughter. And I know that her uncle, Terje Hammersten, was on the police radar at that time, although nothing decisive was to come of it.’

‘We know that, Veum!’ he said impatiently. ‘I thought you said you had something to tell me.’

‘Well, listen to this then. Rumour has it that the deceased Klaus Libakk was involved in the same contraband operation. He distributed the goods to people in Angedalen. Did you know that?’

‘He wasn’t down on our records, at any rate. I’ll have to regard this as idle gossip for the moment.’

‘Odd. That his name isn’t in your records, I mean.’

‘It was a complicated case. With lots of ramifications. And when this murder came to light the investigators had to concentrate on that aspect.’

‘With not much success, it has to be said.’

‘Get to the point!’

‘Alright. I’d like to inform you that the said Terje Hammersten is in the immediate vicinity of Forde right now, and has been since Monday evening.’

‘Monday evening. Uhuh. Anything else?’

‘He stayed with a woman who’s lived in Jolster for the last couple of years. Her name’s Mette Olsen and she is the biological mother of Jan Egil.’

‘Hang on there, Veum. Let me take a note of that. Mette Olsen. Where does she live, did you say?’

I explained.

‘And this Terje Hammersten… do they live together or what?’

‘They did at some point. Something like that. And he has a sister who lives in Dale. Trude Tveiten, who was married to Ansgar Tveiten. In other words, Tveiten was his brother-in-law.’

‘This is beginning to become pretty entangled, I have to say. But I still don’t understand what you’re driving at.’

‘Then listen here. Let’s suppose that, just as a theory, of course, let’s suppose that Klaus Libakk was involved in the murder of Ansgar Tveiten in 1973. Unless Hammersten committed the murder at that time, that would give him a motive for exacting revenge on Libakk today. On behalf of the family, so to speak. He is hot-tempered and stands on his honour, I can assure you.’

‘But what about Kari Libakk? We’re not just talking about one murder victim here, Veum.’

‘No, but she may simply have been unlucky enough to have been married to the wrong person at that time in 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.