The Consorts of Death

51

‘What are you blathering on about now, Veum?’ Langeland exclaimed with annoyance. ‘Haven’t you caused enough trouble yet?’

‘Trouble! All I’m asking is for people to stop lying. And to stop taking the blame for other people’s misdeeds, however honest it may seem.’

I held her eyes with mine. ‘I assume Langeland took this up with you back in 1984, but nevertheless I feel obliged to remind you of what Jan said when I was talking with him at Forde police station at that time. Of what he remembered from the day Svein Skarnes was murdered.’

Langeland stood up. ‘Veum! I think you should go now!’ I didn’t move. Nor did Vibecke. She raised an arm to her husband and said, in a quivering voice. ‘Don’t… Jens. I want to hear what he has to say.’

Langeland remained on his feet.

I said: ‘He did tell you this when he came back from Forde, didn’t he? To me he even said it was a basis for re-assessing the case. We’re talking about your case now.’

‘Yes, he did, but I said that… that I couldn’t remember… all the details any more. And Jan must have made a mistake.’

‘And that… was perhaps not quite the whole truth?’ I said warily.

She hesitated. Then she said, so quietly that it was barely audible: ‘No, it wasn’t.’

‘What!’ Now it was Langeland’s turn to be amazed. With an incredulous expression in his eyes he fell back in his chair while staring at his wife. ‘But you’ve always…’

‘It was you who insisted that I should confess, Jens. You said I would receive more lenient treatment from the court if we could convince them that it was involuntary manslaughter.’

‘And you did! But, my God, I didn’t expect you to confess if you hadn’t done it!’

She swallowed hard. As she spoke, she was having trouble finding the right words, and what she said came in slow staccato: ‘T-tell me again… what did Jan say?’

‘It’s so long ago now that I can’t remember the precise wording, but the main gist was that he had been alone with his father, well, your husband. The foster father. He was sitting and playing with his train. Then he heard the doorbell ring. Your husband went to open the door and he heard a loud altercation with someone. A man, please note. Then everything went still. Later he went into the hall and… in fact I don’t know whether he found him or that happened when you came home. I don’t recall whether he told me that or not. The main point, however, was this: someone came in, argued with your husband, and left again. Who?’

She did not look at either of us, but somewhere in-between. ‘You… both of you know why I did it.’

I leaned forward. ‘Did what?’

‘Confessed.’

‘I’ve always had my suspicions…’

‘Because I was sure Jan had done it. To protect him against… this monstrous act.’

‘But there was one thing he said to me that day. And it was this: Mummy did it!’

‘Yes?’ For a moment her eyes seemed to be flashing sparks. ‘I said that to him when he was standing by the cellar stairs, as stiff as a poker. I crouched down in front of him, looked him straight in the eye and repeated several times: ‘Don’t feel sorry, Johnny boy! Mummy did it…’

‘Mummy did it,’ I repeated, the way the sentence had resounded in my head for all the years that had passed since that February day in