‘But your mother …’
‘My mother? She was busy with her own things. She didn’t know what was going on.’
‘Did you have any brothers or sisters?’
‘No. It was just me. Luckily.’
‘And how did you get on at school?’
‘Badly. All his cruelty was for no purpose. That may be why KG and I became friends. We had nothing to go home to, neither of us. So we preferred to stay out and cause trouble. We weren’t much more than fourteen when we stole a car for the first time. We robbed a homo when we were fifteen. The same year we raped a girl from the area up by Lea Park and threatened her with a knife so that she wouldn’t grass on us.’
‘Real heroes, in other words.’
‘Better to be blind than burned on a pyre. Death helps naught,’ he mumbled, staring grimly into the distance, caught up with his own memories.
I kept my eye on him while probing the strength of the tape round my wrists. It was taut, without the slightest give. But … behind my spine I could feel something sharp and pointed, perhaps a nail hammered in from outside. Gingerly, I manoeuvred my hands into position, pressed and felt the point going through the tape.
‘Tell me something,’ I said to distract his attention. ‘When KG killed Malthus’s brother what was it really about? Was he gay or was it a quarrel about drugs?’
He grinned. ‘KG and I had been hired by Øyvind to sell drugs for him. A fantastic business! We worked on commission and were big wheels. Now we didn’t need to rape girls any more. They were prostrating themselves before us. Did it for free, for a lump of hash. But then … we gave away a bit too much and it came to a confrontation. KG got so angry he smacked Øyvind in the kisser, and he snuffed it. Of course, he hadn’t meant to kill him, all he wanted to do was rough him up a bit, and afterwards, when the cops came … he couldn’t say anything about selling drugs. So he made up the other business instead.’
‘And no one challenged him?’
He shook his head.
‘Didn’t even say that they knew better?’
‘No.’ Again he grinned, as though he thought that particular part of the story was incredibly funny.
‘You never came in the spotlight?’
‘Spotlight? What do you mean?’
‘You said yourself both of you were selling, but only KG ended up behind bars.’
‘He was the one who clobbered him, wasn’t he? I wasn’t even nearby.’
‘No?’
‘No. Lots of people saw KG running from the gym, and when the cops came and took the dumbbell he had used to smash his head in, it had his prints on it.’
‘And how did Kjell take this? After all, it was his younger brother.’
‘A week later he was sitting in his car outside the school waving to me, that’s how badly he took it. I got in, we went for a drive and he offered to let me continue selling drugs – on my own.’
‘But … he didn’t touch on the murder or the quarrel over money?’
‘No. I think he kind of believed what KG had said to the police. Øyvind had tried it on him. At any rate, this wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, see?’
‘I see.’ I gently stretched my hands apart. The tape didn’t seem to be quite as taut any more. Aloud, I said: ‘So … you did then? Took over sales, I mean.’
‘Yep.’
‘And since then you and Kjell Boy have been partners?’
‘Partners? What the fuck do you mean?’ Again the knife came perilously close to my face.
‘Workmates! Colleagues! Don’t be so damn touchy.’ I moved on fast. ‘How did Maggi and KG get to know about the package last Saturday?’
‘You heard what Kjell said? Maggi and Lars knew each other.’
‘And you and KG never spoke?’
‘I’ve told you that … several times!’
His mobile rang, with such an angry tone that we both jumped. He stepped away, pressed the green button and held the phone to his ear. ‘Yes? … Now? Right away? … But you said … oh shit … Yes, I can check … I’m sure he has. And just leave him there? Until it gets dark? … OK. I’ll come as soon as I can … Yes … No, sure!’
Rolf Terje Dalby concluded the conversation and put his mobile phone on the table. He glanced at me, shifted the knife from one hand to the other and wiped his palms on his trousers.
I held his gaze. I had an unpleasant sinking feeling in my stomach, and could sense my bowels wanting to evacuate. ‘What was that about?’
He grinned. ‘That was Kjell, and there’s an emergency on. I have to take your car and keys, he said. But first …’
He inched towards me. The knife quivered.
‘Rolf! Think carefully. Have you ever killed before?’
‘Nothing to do with …’
‘This is the greatest mistake of your life …’
‘Your greatest mistake was coming here, Veum. Use your eyes before you enter, for who knows what foes you will meet.’
Summoning up my strength, I rubbed the tape up and down against the nail. It tore, and suddenly I had both hands free. At that moment he lunged with the knife. I twisted to the side and grabbed his arm. The tape round my ankles inhibited movement, and I had only one chance: to be more brutal than I had ever been before. I grabbed the arm holding the knife and smashed it onto the floor so hard that he dropped it. Then I snatched his hair, pulled his head forward and rammed my knees into his face with all my strength. There was a nasty crunch, he screamed with pain and blood spurted from his shattered nose.
I shoved him away, leaned over and stripped the tape off my ankles. He groped for the knife. Blood was streaming from his nose, and his eyes were watering so much he was blinded. I trod on his hand and exerted pressure until dust rose from the floorboards. Another scream.
Then I kicked his knife away, threw myself on him from behind and twisted his good arm so far up his shoulder blade that he shouted for me to stop. By way of an answer I pulled his head back and slapped him hard from side to side. At length I rammed my elbow into the back of his head and brutally forced it down to the floor.
‘Don’t move!’ I said, standing up. My ears were rushing, and I felt dizzy. I had a quick forage around. The roll of tape they had used was on the table. I grabbed the knife on the way, fetched the tape and dashed back.
He was already struggling up. I placed my foot on his spine and pushed him back down. I brought both his arms round his back, ignoring his cries of protest, peeled the tape and bound his wrists with the same thoroughness that he had bound mine.
Afterwards I did his ankles, then dragged him to the table and taped him to one table leg, hoping that would make it harder for him to break free.
He groaned. ‘Veum! You will never get out of this alive.’
‘You said that earlier in the day as well, Rolf. But who’s lying on the floor whimpering and who’s standing and watching?’
I took his phone, dialled Atle Helleve’s direct number and waited for him to answer. When he heard my voice he said: ‘Varg? Have you got a new phone?’
‘No, I’m ringing on behalf of one herr Rolf Terje Dalby. He was so kind as to lend me his. Now he’s wondering whether you have an unoccupied room for him, preferably in the cellar.’
Dalby groaned something incomprehensible from his position on the floor.
I gave Atle a brief summary of what had happened and concluded: ‘I’d like to report both Dalby and Malthus. For unlawful restraint and attempted murder this time round. All the other stuff will come later. We have a powerful case against them, I can guarantee you that. I can testify until the cows come home, if you wish.’
‘We’ve got Mikalsen here for questioning, but he’s not saying a peep.’
‘So you did find him?’
‘We picked him up where we find most of them. At a corner table in Børs Café.’
‘And … the other two?’
‘Not a trace, Veum. All gone quiet. The search is now being extended to Interpol.’
‘Right … What are you going to do? Come and fetch him?’
‘I’ll send out a patrol car. Stay there and keep an eye on him until we arrive.’
‘Don’t be too long then.’
‘And what are your plans once you’re done?’
‘Home and rest.’
It was a white lie, and I think he guessed. In reality I had quite different plans. But I wasn’t sharing them with anyone. Not yet.
34
IT WAS AN HOUR before the police car arrived. In the meantime Dalby had been so impatient to be off that I’d had to reassure him several times: ‘They’re coming, Rolf. Relax! The bridal suite awaits …’
Police Officer Hans Melvær from Sunnfjord, a young man on his way up through the system I had met on a couple of previous occasions, insisted on a preliminary statement from me, which delayed my departure further.
The short day was as good as over as I pointed my car back towards town. The sun was setting, not over Askøy as in the summer months but behind the long, dark, leonine mountain ridge of Løvstakken between the Fjøsanger and Fyllingsdalen valleys. Arriving in Minde, I turned up Jacob Aalls vei and pulled in by the playground. There were no children, it was like an omen of worsening times.
Thence I went up to Finnbergåsen. Markus Rødberg looked at me with composed resignation in his eyes, as though he had had a feeling I would show up sooner or later. I noticed him glance at the thin cut on my cheek, but being the cultured individual he was, he made no comment.
I followed him into his living room, which was as well kept and tidy as on my previous visit. This time, though, he did not offer me coffee, and I had to find my own chair. He sat down on the sofa and observed me from under heavy eyelids with hard-won composure.
‘Correct me if I’m mistaken, Rødberg, but when we met at Torvaldsen’s yesterday, I had the clear perception that the atmosphere was a trifle fraught. Between you. Could I be right?’
He sat with a half-smile round his mouth, and when he answered, the words came slowly and laboriously, as though he had to deliberate before he found the right one. ‘No. Between us? A close friend of ours, Lill’s husband, had been killed in his own home. Of course, there was a fraught atmosphere, if that’s the right word.’
‘And how close are you to Alf Torvaldsen?’
He blinked several times, as though removing a speck of dust from his eye. ‘Well, what should I say? Carsten and I were childhood friends, of course, and Wenche Torvaldsen – who is dead now – had also grown up here. Alf came with Wenche, so to speak.’
I already had my pad in my hand and flicked through it. He watched me attentively, prepared for the worst, it seemed. ‘Wenche Torvaldsen died last autumn, I understand.’
‘Yes, poor thing. She had a tough time of it. Cancer was eating her up from inside. Had it not been for strong painkillers it would have been unbearable. But that also meant she was very lethargic. She didn’t take part in anything for the last six months of her life.’
‘When we spoke yesterday we touched on a disagreement you’d had, on the committee. Torvaldsen got very worked up, as you must have noticed, about Hulda Vefring mentioning this to me.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Well, yes … what can I say?’
‘According to Torvaldsen, the argument was about differing views of faith. Frøken Vefring was in no doubt that you were on one side and the two couples were on the other. Could you expand a little?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I just don’t understand … What has this got to do with all the rest?’
‘We’ll come to that.’
He stirred, ill at ease. ‘Erm. Well … I don’t quite know how to put this. I suppose it didn’t really have much to do with faith. More with morality. There had been an incident which I see no reason to go into in any more detail here.’
‘An incident?’
‘Yes.’
‘Concerning …?’
He raised his voice a notch. ‘I don’t want to say anything about it, I said.’
I leaned forward. ‘So let me say this to you, Rødberg. After talking to you yesterday, I met Siv. Siv Monsen. She also told me about an incident.’
He paled, and within a few seconds I could see beads of sweat forming on his brow. ‘R-r-really?’
‘She had visited you, she said, and told you, but you had said she should just forget it, it had been a one-off, and she should show forgiveness. Are we talking about the same incident?’
His eyes flitted round. ‘I cannot be held responsible for something others have done!’
‘No. I’m not accusing you.’
‘And of course she gave you her version of events.’
I sent him an inscrutable look. In reality she hadn’t told me about any events. The question was simply how far he was willing to go.
‘Every coin has two sides, Veum!’
‘No argument there. Can I hear your side?’
‘It’s not my side! It was Carsten and Alf who … well, she told you, of course.’
Again I played the game. ‘I’d very much like to hear … the other version.’
‘Carsten and Alf were hunting friends.’ His lips narrowed, as though this was one part of existence he had no time at all for. ‘Every now and then they met in one of their houses and had what they called hunting evenings, where they revived memories of various hunting trips and … sat drinking. They both insisted they were excessively drunk the evening it happened.’
‘Mm.’ I nodded as a sign he should go on.
‘The girl was excessively drunk herself, and they both claim it happened with her full consent. It was not rape, which is what Siv maintained!’
‘No?’
‘No! You know yourself where she’s ended up. Carsten said … she had even demanded money off them, afterwards.’
‘We’re talking autumn 1988, aren’t we?’
He waved one hand with a flourish. ‘Something like that.’
‘And Margrethe?’
‘You know yourself!’
‘Was at that point …?’
‘She was not a minor! She was eighteen, and no virgin, alas.’
‘Nevertheless. Torvaldsen and Mobekk were her guardians. They had been responsible for her and her siblings for ten years by that point. Morally, we’re talking something close to incest here, Rødberg!’
‘Well …’
‘She was eighteen, you say, but how old were they? In their fifties? No wonder Siv reacted. How did she find out?’
‘Margrethe told her. She had confided in her … the day after, and Siv came here. She wanted to report it, but I advised her against it. I promised I would take the matter up with them, and it would never be repeated.’
‘And did you?’
He looked at me with a self-righteous air. ‘Naturally! Why do you think this discordance arose? They didn’t like it, as I’m sure you can appreciate.’
‘But … didn’t the wives get to hear of this as well?’
‘Not from me at any rate. I spoke to Alf and Carsten. Frøken Vefring has misunderstood. What she perceived as a bad atmosphere between the married couples and me was between Alf and Carsten and me. That was how it was.’
‘You never took the issue up with them afterwards?’
‘Veum … after the committee was dissolved … I no longer had anything to do with them. I kept my distance, so to speak.’
I looked down at my notepad. I hadn’t written any of what he had said, but I had made mental notes, which stuck. ‘To sum up, Rødberg. Carsten Mobekk and Alf Torvaldsen had a party at Torvaldsen’s house. Where was fru Torvaldsen?’
‘No idea. She must have been away, otherwise they could not have … erm…’
‘No, I suppose they couldn’t. And Margrethe, how does she fit in the picture?’
‘She’d been to a party and had lost her key or some such thing. So she rang Torvaldsen’s bell, and he went to open. She could not conceal the state she was in, and he invited her in … in all innocence, h
e told me. But then things developed. She had seen the bottles they had and asked for a glass. They had poured one for her, and one thing led to another. According to Carsten, she had as good as offered herself. If the matter had been reported they would have stood by their account, he said. There was no question of it being rape. She was already beyond redemption when she arrived.’
‘Very drunk? In fact, that is still defined as rape, Rødberg, possibly in every other circle except your own.’
‘Mine! I had nothing to do with this! My hands are clean.’
‘Yes, wasn’t there someone else who said that once … in a story you of all people ought to know well.’
He raised his arms. ‘It happened. Nothing came of it. Shall we draw a line under it now?’
I looked him in the eye. ‘Not so strange then perhaps that Margrethe reacted in such a dramatic manner when Torvaldsen and Mobekk turned up in C. Sundts gate last Friday …’
‘What did you just say, Veum?’
‘I was thinking aloud. I think I have the answer to one of the questions in this case anyway. There are a few more, though, unfortunately.’
‘You’d better ask the right people then. As far as I’m concerned, I have no more to say about the matter.’
‘Not even a quiet prayer?’
He looked daggers at me. Then he got up. ‘I think you should go now.’
I followed suit. ‘Yes, I was on my way actually.’
In the hall I turned towards him one last time. ‘In the bestcase scenario you’ll never see me again, Rødberg. But I hope I’ll be able to haunt your dreams for many years to come. And your conscience, if you’ve got one.’
‘Go!’
‘Sadly, it doesn’t look like it though. As if you have one.’
‘May God have mercy on your wretched soul, Veum.’
Cold Hearts Page 21