The Human Flies - страница 15

I had to admit that I felt none the wiser when I drove home alone the evening after the day of the murder. As I had few better leads, I listed the former NS member Konrad Jensen as the main suspect. As with all the other residents, though, he lacked not only a motive and a weapon, but also the opportunity. I still had not the foggiest idea where I might discover any of this.

In short, I was not looking forward to reading the morning papers on Saturday, 6 April 1968 with any sense of joy or optimism. It was dawning on me that the opportunities afforded by having sole responsibility for this murder investigation were great, but that my fall from grace could be equally great. I still had no idea that the case would bring me face to face with the most calculating criminal I have ever met, but also with the most remarkable person I have ever had the pleasure of working with. Meanwhile, I brooded over the case alone, fruitlessly, until I fell asleep.

Saturday, 6 April 1968 started earlier than expected. I had set the alarm clock for eight, but was woken by the telephone a quarter of an hour earlier. The caller was patient and the phone continued to ring until I had struggled out of bed and answered it. I immediately recognized the deep and commanding voice on the other end.

‘I do apologize for disturbing you so early on a Saturday morning, but this may be of considerable interest to you. Am I speaking to Detective Inspector Kolbjørn Kristiansen?’

I confirmed that I was he as I tried desperately in my still sleepy state to recall where on earth I had heard that voice before. Fortunately, I did not have to wonder for long.

‘This is Professor Ragnar Sverre Borchmann. First of all, may I congratulate you on your most recent promotion. I hope, however, that we can still be on first-name terms and that you remember me as a guest in your childhood home?’

I most certainly did. Professor Director Ragnar Borchmann was an industrious and renowned university friend of my father’s. He had not been a frequent visitor to my childhood home, but had always caused quite a stir when he did come.

‘I’m calling about the tragic murder of Harald Olesen. And while I do not wish to raise false hopes, I think I may possibly be able to help in the investigation. It is of course entirely up to you to judge whether you feel it is worth your while, in relation to following up other important leads.’

If the truth be told, I did not have many other important leads and at this point was willing to listen to any reliable person who might be able to move the investigation forward. What is more, I was keen to hear pretty much anything that Professor Director Ragnar Borchmann might have to say. But above all, I was extremely curious as to what he may be able to tell me about the case. So without further ado, I said that I would be more than happy to put aside some time to meet him, for example between eleven and twelve.

‘Excellent. Eleven o’clock precisely it is. For reasons that will become apparent, we will have to meet here at my home, but I would be happy to send a car for you should that be necessary.’

I replied politely that it would not be necessary, double-checked that the address was still 104-8 Erling Skjalgsson’s Street and promised to be there at eleven precisely.

As expected, the newspapers had a much bigger spread about the case today. They all carried photographs of 25 Krebs’ Street, and most of them had old wartime pictures of Harald Olesen on the front page. The headlines varied from ‘Resistance Hero Murdered in His Own Home’ to ‘Unsolvable Murder Mystery in Krebs’ Street’. The name of the detective inspector leading the investigation was fortunately mentioned in favourable terms à la ‘apparently very capable young detective’. One of them had even included the fact that I was known as ‘K2’ among my younger colleagues and that I was said to be a man who could deal with major challenges and dizzying heights.