Sohlberg and the Missing Schoolboy: an Inspector Sohlberg mystery (Inspector Sohlberg Mysteries)
Page 20
“Thank you. Now . . . please take us to Gunnar Haugen’s office.”
Constable Wangelin’s phone buzzed while they rode the elevator up to Gunnar Haugen’s offices on the top floor. When they got out on the lobby Wangelin pulled Sohlberg aside and said:
“Chief Inspector . . . they’re on the way to the grandfather’s farm . . . it’s near Hov . . . on the shores of the Randsfjorden.”
“Is the grandfather still alive . . . does he live at the farm?”
“No . . . he died two years ago,” said Wangelin. “But let me pull up a map on my phone and have you take a look at this coincidence.”
“Come now Constable Wangelin . . . there’s no such thing as a coincidence in a major crime case.”
“I know.”
The map on her cell phone screen showed Hov to be a small town located about 80 miles north of Oslo. Like Wangelin he noticed that Hov—a small cluster of homes and businesses next to the E-16 Highway to Bergen—was also about 20 miles southeast of the E-6 Highway to Trondheim.
“Well now,” said Sohlberg. “The grandfather’s farm and barn are near the E-Six Highway that Gunnar Haugen takes to drop off Karl Haugen with his mother.”
Wangelin nodded and smiled.
“Excuse me,” said Sohlberg to the Nokia HR manager. “We need to go back and ask a few more questions of your technical person.”
Twenty minutes later the techie confirmed that during the last three months Gunnar Haugen’s cell phone had received and transmitted several calls from a cell tower near the grandfather’s farm at Hov. Before that 3 month period Gunnar Haugen’s cell phone records showed no activity near the grandfather’s farm.
“Do you want me to check out the wife’s cell phone to see if she’s used her phone in that location?”
“That was my next question. Yes. Please.”
The techie said, “No. I don’t see anything the past three months in that area with her phone.”
Sohlberg frowned. “What about further back in time?”
After tapping at the keyboard a few times the techie said:
“Wait. There’s one hit on that tower thirteen months ago.”
“When exactly?”
“Noon on Saturday . . . May the eighth.”
Sohlberg wondered why Agnes Haugen had been at the farm one month before the boy’s disappearance. Of course her husband or anyone else for that matter could have taken her cell phone out there.
But other than her husband who would’ve done that?
He needed to find out from Gunnar or Agnes Haugen or someone else if one or both of them had been at the grandfather’s farm shortly before the fateful day of Karl’s disappearance.
“One last thing,” said Sohlberg urgently. “I noticed you said Gunnar’s phone showed that several calls were recently made and received in the area around Hov . . . and yet for Agnes Haugen’s phone you said a hit. What’s the difference?”
“A hit is when the person has the cell phone turned on but does not answer it.”
Chapter 12/Tolv
INTERROGATION OF GUNNAR HAUGEN,
AFTERNOON OF 1 YEAR AND 25 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY, FRIDAY, JUNE 4
“Gunnar Haugen . . . I’m Constable Wangelin and this is Chief Inspector Sohlberg. We have some questions for you. Can you come to the conference room with us?”
“Am I under arrest?”
Sohlberg found the father’s question astonishing if not incriminating. Sohlberg looked him in the eye and said:
“Should you be?”
A clearly shocked Gunnar Haugen instantly looked away. He paled and stared at the floor and said nothing more.
“Come this way Herr Haugen,” said Sohlberg grimly.
Gunnar Haugen hesitated.
Sohlberg then did what he rarely did. He only used this tactic to impress upon people the seriousness of his investigation and the possibility if not probability of an arrest. Even long-time criminals did not like what Sohlberg was about to do in such a personal and invasive manner. Sohlberg put a forceful grip on Gunnar Haugen’s forearm. The father’s arm jerked involuntarily.
“Let’s go Herr Haugen. Now.”
“Yes,” replied the engineer meekly as his co-workers stared.
Sohlberg was pleased. Everything was going according to plan. It was time to move from keeping the investigation quiet to putting pressure on a group of suspects. He could have questioned Gunnar Haugen quietly and in private after work or had him called down to the Human Resources department. Instead the public scene of Gunnar Haugen being questioned at work by the police guaranteed that the father’s co-workers would immediately call family and friends and that within an hour the media would issue reports about ‘breaking developments’ in the Karl Haugen case. The media frenzy would put intense pressure on Sohlberg’s next best suspects—the mother and the stepmother.
Sohlberg’s newest goal was to force the suspects to point the finger at each other. This tactic never failed with criminals and their accomplices. Of course the exception to the rule was the rare case of family members—or lovers—who had very tight bonds of love and trust.
“This way,” said Constable Wangelin. She pointed to a hallway where the HR manager waited for them.
The HR manager escorted them to a windowless conference room and left. Wangelin took out a tape recorder and dictated the date and time and the identity of the persons in the room.
“Are we going to be here long?”
Sohlberg glared. “Do you have something more important Herr Haugen than answering questions about your missing son?”
“No . . . I was just wondering how long this will take. I have classes after work . . . down the street . . . on Nydalsveien.”
“What classes?”
“I’m enrolled in the executive M.B.A. program of the B.I. Norwegian School of Management.”
“Oh really?” said Sohlberg as he took off his coat and sat down. “Well . . . to answer your question . . . I have no idea how long we’re going to be here. I guess a lot depends on your cooperation and answers. Yes?”
“I . . . I don’t know what you want from me. I’ve cooperated with everything that the police have asked of me.”
Gunnar Haugen appeared to be worried. Sohlberg’s initial strategy of surprise was working despite the likelihood that Karl’s doctor had already called one or both of the parents.
A thought struck Sohlberg: if the doctor had indeed telephoned a warning then had the warning only gone to the stepmother and not to the father? After all the man’s bewilderment had been obvious since first approached in his office by the inspector and constable.
Had the stepmother kept the warning to herself?
If that was the case then why did she not pass the warning on to her husband?.
“Herr Haugen . . . before we discuss whether you have actually cooperated with us let me first explain why I’m here since I noticed you did not bother asking me why we’re here.”
Gunnar Haugen said nothing. Instead he assumed the stoic look that everyone in Norway knew from watching Gunnar Haugen’s image on television and newspapers and magazines.
“I have two assignments Herr Haugen. First . . . I’m here to make an arrest.”
Haugen blinked nervously.
“Second . . . I’m here to make sure that we have more than enough evidence to convict.”
“Wait,” said Gunnar Haugen as if waking up from an afternoon nap. “Where’s Nilsen? I thought he was in charge of the case. He knows I cooperated.”
“Nilsen is out. I’m in charge now. All I can tell you is that after carefully reviewing all of the case files . . . I don’t see how you can claim that you’ve cooperated. Quite the opposite.”
“Nilsen knows that we helped as much as we could.”
“You helped yourselves . . . not your son. Anyway . . . as I was saying . . . I reviewed the case files and all of the interviews with you and your wife and I could only come to one conclusion. You and your wife ba
mboozled Nilsen with lies and half-truths.”
Haugen stared at the table.
“Unfortunately for your son Chief Inspector Nilsen took everything you and your wife said at face value. He questioned nothing. Anyone who hears the interviews or reads the transcripts immediately realizes that you live in a fantasy world or are a lousy liar . . . or both. Nothing that you and your wife have ever said to the police makes any sense.”
Sohlberg expected an indignant outburst or at the very least a protestation of innocence. He got neither from Haugen who remained wrapped in his silent stoic mantle.
“Why didn’t you go into work on the Friday that your son disappeared?”
“Our daughter had been up all night crying. I felt too tired to put in an honest day’s work.”
“And yet you supposedly worked all day on your computer at home from eight in the morning until three in the afternoon.”
Haugen said nothing.
“Whose idea was it for you to stay home that day?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I guess both of us. My wife needed me to stay with the baby while she took Karl to the science fair.”
“Who packed Karl’s lunch for that Friday?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Who usually packed his lunch?”
“Well . . . it depends . . . some days I did . . . others day my wife.”
“So you’re a top up-and-coming manager at Nokia . . . and you’re also going to Business School and yet you have the time to prepare his lunch?”
“I . . . well . . . yes. I have time to pack his lunch.”
“Why doesn’t your wife prepare his lunch all the time?”
Silence.
“Herr Haugen . . . your wife’s unemployed. She has all the time in the world to pack his lunch. She seems to be in very good health. So . . . tell me . . . why doesn’t your wife prepare Karl’s lunch all the time.”
“That’s just the way it is.”
“I see. We just have to take your word for it. Right?”
Silence.
“Can anyone corroborate your claim that you sometimes packed his lunch?”
“I. . . .”
Sohlberg took out a Polaroid picture of Karl’s backpack. The picture was taken by the police at Frøken Bøe’s room on the day of the disappearance. Sohlberg pointed at the picture and said, “Is this your son’s backpack?”
“I think it is. Yes. . . . Maybe.”
“I’ve looked inside that backpack . . . and guess what? There was no lunch in the backpack.”
Silence.
“No lunch . . . that means only one thing Herr Haugen. You or your wife or both of you never expected Karl to be around to eat his lunch at school. That’s why one of you didn’t pack his lunch. That was a major slip-up. Do you care to explain it?”
Silence.
Sohlberg noticed that Gunnar Haugen’s right eye flickered wildly.
Was Gunnar Haugen trying to figure out what lie to tell about the missing lunch?
“There’s another very odd thing that I found,” said Sohlberg who switched topics to keep Gunnar Haugen off balance. “I read the transcript of your third interview and found something rather unusual.”
Silence.
“You stated that your wife Agnes Haugen is a very good mother. Is that true?”
He nodded.
“Please answer me with words Herr Haugen. The tape recorder can’t pick up your head nodding . . . so I guess for the record that means yes. Anyway . . . you told us that your wife taught Karl sign language at age six. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“And yet Karl is not deaf . . . his doctor told us that he is a perfectly normal child from a medical and physical point of view.”
“He is.”
“So he’s not deaf?’
“No.”
“Then why would your wife teach him sign language?”
“I . . . well . . . you know . . . she’s a teacher . . . she has a master’s degree in education and a license to teach elementary school.”
“But she’s not licensed to teach deaf children . . . is she?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“She never taught sign language to Thor . . . her first son . . . did she?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“One last time Herr Haugen . . . why would your wife teach your son sign language when he’s not deaf?”
Silence.
“Herr Haugen . . . did your wife teach sign language to Karl so that they could communicate in secret?”
Gunnar Haugen’s eyes dimmed.
Sohlberg’s throat tightened as he realized how out of touch this man was to the reality of his home life where his wife led a separate parallel existence.
“Herr Haugen! Look at me. Did your wife secretly and silently send your son instructions in sign language for him to leave the school that Friday June fourth?”
Sohlberg looked straight into Gunnar Haugen’s eyes. But the engineer had shut down. His tightly closed eyes told Sohlberg and the world one message:
“Leave me alone!”
Wangelin and Sohlberg could literally see that the man was withdrawing to some distant place where no one could intrude.
“Herr Haugen,” said Sohlberg. “You and your wife both told investigators that your son suffered from seizures and yet his doctor says that is not true and has never been true. So tell me . . . whose idea was it to create the fake illness about seizures?”
Silence.
“Whose idea was it to use a non-existent illness to confuse the teacher and the school about which Friday Karl would not be at school but on a doctor’s visit?”
Silence.
“Constable Wangelin . . . please arrest Herr Haugen if he does not answer my questions.”
The tinkling sound of Wangelin’s handcuffs brought Gunnar Haugen back into the room.
“What? . . . What do you want to know?”
“Why did you sign that vague letter to the school telling them that your son would miss school on Friday because of a doctor’s appointment and yet you did not date the letter . . . nor did you specify exactly which Friday he would be gone from school.”
“Well . . . that’s just the way it was written. I can’t change the past.”
“But you Herr Haugen are a senior high-level manager at a huge multinational corporation . . . and you are going to a major business school . . . surely a sharp up-and-coming executive like you doesn’t write such vague communications . . . or is this what you do at Nokia . . . or learn at business school?”
“My wife typed the letter. I just signed it.”
Sohlberg wanted to smile. The father had finally opened the door that offered him a way to implicate or blame Agnes Haugen in the disappearance of his son.
“Herr Haugen . . . it’s incredible that you of all people signed such a vague note . . . a piece of nonsensical verbiage that resulted in so much confusion . . . thanks to that misleading note of yours the school was not able to react fast enough to your son’s disappearance. Thanks to your note the search for your son was delayed by more than six hours. How do you think that will look before a court considering your conviction and sentence?”
Silence.
“You also made verbal statements to the teacher that made her think that your son Karl was visiting the doctor on Friday June four instead of Friday June eleven. Then you switched your dates and statements and told the school and our investigators that you had always told the teacher that Karl would be at the doctor on the next Friday . . . June eleven.”
“I never spoke to the teacher before Friday June four. My wife handled all school matters for Karl.”
Sohlberg stared at Gunnar Haugen. Sohlberg was elated that the father had taken another step to implicate or blame Agnes Haugen in a felony crime. But now the time had arrived to change topics before Haugen could carefully think about Sohlberg’s questions and even more important Haugen’s own answers.