Death on Pilot Hill (An Inspector Harald Sohlberg Mystery)

by Jens Amundsen

  “How ridiculous.”

  Sohlberg nodded at Wangelin who sent a text message from her cell phone. A minute later Agnes Haugen walked down the hallway past the one-way mirror.

  “Do you see her?” said Sohlberg laying down the trap with a bait of truth. “Agnes Haugen will testify that you kidnaped and killed Karl Haugen because you have a lesbian obsession with her.”

  A deep moan rumbled from the horror-stricken Danica Knutsen. She shrieked and cried and shook uncontrollably.

  Sohlberg knew the symptoms of suspects electrocuted by the truth. He shrugged and said:

  “Constable Wangelin will you please take Frøken Knutsen downstairs for booking . . . give her a moment to compose herself so she can be fingerprinted and photographed and then taken to be charged before a judge—”

  “No! I would never harm little Karl. Never! Never! Never! Agnes told me to drive up and down Sørkedalsveien and use her cell phone so she could go spy on her husband and see what he was doing to Karl.”

  “It’ll be your word against hers.”

  “You may think I’m really stupid . . . but you see . . . I decided to prove where I was at the time because Agnes acted really weird that day . . . Agnes looked so freaking happy . . . something just wasn’t right about what she was asking me to do. So I bought a snack on the way down to Smestad and I bought gasoline on the way back to the organic farm.”

  “Where?”

  “At the Shell Seven-Eleven store . . . at the corner of Stasjonveien and Hollmenkollveien. I have the receipts. I had no cash so I paid for both with my father’s debit card.”

  “Frøken Knutsen . . . are you willing to testify against Agnes Haugen?”

  “Yes! . . . I won’t let Agnes get away with it. She won’t make a fool out of me. I can’t believe how easily she tricked me.”

  “You’re not the only one Frøken Knutsen.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Sohlberg met with Thorsen and Gunnar Haugen and Haugen’s lawyer upstairs at Thorsen’s office. Sohlberg stood by the doorway and he waited for Thorsen to take full credit for solving the case and he did not have to wait long.

  “Thank you for coming,” said Commissioner Thorsen. “This case has been one of the most difficult ones in my career but I decided to throw everything at it . . . to fully dedicate myself completely to finding the criminal who took your son. . . .”

  Sohlberg was not surprised when Thorsen went on to summarize the case by reading straight out of the executive summary that Sohlberg had written in his final report to Thorsen.

  “Agnes Haugen meticulously planned and rehearsed and executed the kidnaping and murder of Karl Haugen for the sole purpose of tormenting her husband and then framing him for her own criminal conduct.

  “We know from eyewitnesses and phone and text and e-mail records that she rehearsed every phase of the kidnaping and the murder. For example we have three credible eyewitnesses who saw Agnes Haugen park her husband’s white pickup truck several times at the dead end of Orreveien in the days leading up to the kidnaping on June fourth.

  “We know from circumstantial evidence . . . and from credible eyewitnesses or from forensic evidence the following facts and circumstances . . . that she used sign language to order the little boy to meet her in the school’s parking lot right after the science fair ended at 9 A.M.

  “We also know that she drove Karl to the dead end at Orreveien and then strangled or smothered him in the forest where she had lured him with the promise of studying more frogs before going to the doctor’s appointment. . . . And we know that she hid Karl’s body near the pond in a temporary grave.

  “We know from eyewitnesses and circumstantial evidence that Agnes Hagen returned that same day in the afternoon to the dead end at Orreveien where she was seen parking her husband’s white pickup truck . . . she walked into the forest that afternoon from about twelve thirty to one thirty. We also know that at the same time Danica Knutsen . . . having been duped by Agnes Haugen . . . used Agnes Haugen’s cell phone so as to create an electronic alibi for Agnes Haugen.

  “Agnes Haugen claimed that she spent most of the morning and early afternoon driving around town to pick up medicines and to calm down her sick baby daughter. Her claim was a half-truth that she used to cause confusion around the fact that she brazenly returned to the pond that afternoon so she could move Karl Haugen’s body to his permanent grave.

  “Using previously gathered bark and twigs and leaves Agnes Haugen did a superb job in expertly hiding the boy’s body in the cracked trunk of a fir tree. The crack begins almost three feet above the ground and it measures four feet in length . . . and one foot across . . . with a depth of almost two feet. No one could see the crack.

  “Cadaver dogs and canine tracking units were not brought out to sniff the area around the pond because huge areas were already being searched at the time . . . areas where Agnes Haugen sent investigators and search-and-rescue teams on wild goosechases as a result of her false and misleading statements to investigators that her stepson might have gone exploring in those areas when in fact the boy was afraid of being alone or in the woods. She also claimed that the boy may have left school thinking that he’d perhaps meet with his father and explore the woods but the factual record conclusively shows that Gunnar Haugen never had time to go on excursions with his son.”

  Gunnar Haugen cast his eyes down in shame and regret.

  Thorsen cleared his throat and continued reading out of Sohlberg’s report. “Insects and wild animals and the elements destroyed any evidence that may have been on or in or near Karl Haugen’s body. The exact cause of death will probably never be determined because of the extreme decomposition of the boy’s small body after more than one year in the forest. The forensic team will probably find more bones. The forensic team has already collected one of Karl’s front teeth and a small bone chip probably from his shoulder bone from inside the tree trunk.”

  Gunnar Haugen raised his hand and said, “How did you know that my son was in that tree?”

  Commissioner Thorsen blushed. “I . . . I . . . I’ll let my assistant Chief Inspector Sohlberg answer. . . .”

  “Well,” said Sohlbergh, “from the very beginning I was bothered by the fact that Agnes Haugen forced Karl to study the red-eye tree frog for his science fair project. Why should she care so much about his science fair exhibition?

  “I was always curious as to why she forced him to study frogs when he only liked to study icebergs. I was even more curious about the frogs when I observed that everything that Agnes Haugen ever said or did was for one purpose only . . . to benefit her . . . and usually at someone else’s expense.”

  “That’s the truth,” said Gunnar Haugen barely above a whisper.

  “I also got interested in the area around the pond after I discovered that we had already interviewed a witness . . . an old man . . . who had seen some strange comings and goings by a white pickup truck that matched the one owned by you Herr Haugen. That’s when I decided to focus on that area . . . especially after a Google satellite map search by Constable Wangelin revealed that there was a small pond on Dag Svendsen’s property.”

  “Dag? . . . Who?” said a devastated Gunnar Haugen.

  “He’s the old man who lives where Orreveien becomes a dead end . . . he saw your wife park your pickup truck there for half an hour at nine in the morning right after the science fair and later that afternoon . . . from about twelve thirty to one forty-five.”

  “Isn’t the dead end at Orreveien near the school?” asked Gunnar Haugen’s lawyer.

  “Yes,” said Sohlberg. “That’s where Agnes murdered and hid Karl . . . less than a quarter mile from the school.”

  “She’s a sneaky one,” observed Thorsen. “She hid everything so well.”

  “Ja,” said Sohlberg. “That’s typical of the most brilliant criminals . . . they operate right under our noses. That’s what makes them so hard to identify and catch.”

  “That woman,” said Gunnar Haugen in a we
ak pitiful voice. “She destroyed me!”

  “That might be Herr Haugen,” said Sohlberg with his eyes solemn and mournful. “Just don’t forget . . . a man can be destroyed but not defeated.”

  Gunnar Haugen nodded. But he didn’t seem to really understand what Sohlberg was telling him. Haugen was a broken man. The lawyer asked more questions.

  Sohlberg took a few steps back and left the room. He looked forward to spending the evening with Fru Sohlberg. He was grateful that he had a loving home to go to that evening because Sohlberg knew that no amount of money or success could buy a happy marriage or a loyal spouse.

  “I’m done . . . finished,” said Sohlberg to his wife on the cell phone as soon as he left the ground floor lobby of 12 Hammersborggata.

  He walked out into the street with a spring to his step. The burden of the little boy’s sad life and death lifted temporarily off his shoulders. Of course the burden would return from time to time and weigh Sohlberg down. The dead always came back to him. He remembered all of the homicide victims whose cases he had worked on. Even if strangers to Sohlberg the dead and gone visited him in the labyrinths of his mind.

  “Solve the case?”

  “Yes. It’s time to go home and leave Norway.”

  EPILOGUE: HOMEWARD BOUND

  Karl Haugen heard barking. A puppy ran up to him. He played and kissed the dog which licked his cheeks. Karl felt much more happy than he had in a long long time. He suddenly realized that his father and mother wanted him to stay where he was playing with the dog.

  A man and a woman who seemed kind and familiar came up to him and said:

  “Karl . . . are you ready to go back home?”

  He looked at the endless beautiful fields of incredible sun-drenched flowers and he laughed when his puppy ran off to play in the distance. He finally had the puppy that he had wanted for so long.

  Karl ran after the puppy and finally entered the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind of God.

  THE AUTHOR

  Jens Amundsen is the pen name of an attorney whose literary anonymity protects him and his clients from the powers that be.

  THE PUBLISHER

  Nynorsk Forlag stays true to its roots as an indie publisher bringing the best of Nordic crime novels to the public. From its humble beginnings as an underground press, the company intentionally remains small so as to stay focused on its authors and readers.

  [sample chapter]

  WHITE DEATH IN TROMSØ: AN INSPECTOR HAROLD SOHLBERG MYSTERY

  by

  JENS AMUNDSEN

  Published simultaneously in the USA and Norway.

  Copyright (c) 2011 by Nynorsk Forlag.

  Translation copyright (c) 2011 by Nynorsk Forlag.

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Chief Inspector Sohlberg investigates a mass grave near Tromsø, the most northern city of Norway, just 1,242 miles from the North Pole. He uncovers more than nine murdered victims in a suspenseful investigation that involves the ultimate threat to Western civilization.

  Ch. 1/Én

  MORNING OF THE DAY, TUESDAY, JULY 6

  Only 1242 miles separate Tromsø from the North Pole. The same amount of miles separate Alaska’s Prudhoe Bay from the North Pole. Tromsø however is much warmer and more hospitable to human life than Prudhoe Bay thanks to the Gulf Current which brings warm waters to Norway all the way from the sunny hot climes of Florida and the Caribbean. But geography like the stars is not at fault for human events.

  “I’ve never seen so many bodies,” said Constable Lars Rasch of the Troms politidistrikt. He did not exaggerate. Rasch had never even seen one single homicide victim during his five years as a policeman in the northernmost city of Norway. He stared at the row of frozen bodies buried in the permafrost.

  “Look like sardines in a can . . . don’t they Rasch?”

  The constable said nothing. Instead he looked in disgust at Per Moen the owner of the fish shack that had become the tomb for nine corpses. Rasch turned his gaze upon the sea. The morning’s storm had washed the sky and the ocean and the islands in depressing shades of gray that seemed to merge into one mournful salute to the dead.

  “Hey Rasch . . . how soon can you move the stiffs out? . . . I need to have a place to store my stock out here. It’ll cost me a fortune if I have to move my inventory elsewhere. . . . I imagine I’ll be compensated for my building getting torn apart to get these popsicles out of here . . . no?”

  Rasch grunted. He had always heard and now knew for a fact that Moen was a man obsessed by one thing only — the bottom line.

  “Look . . . we’ll discuss this later.”

  “No. Now. Let’s talk now. I don’t want your people ripping up my land digging up stiffs. I swear I’ll sue the police if you don’t put everything back to the way it used to be. This might just ruin my fishing operations if you keep blocking me from access to my land and fish shack and dock.

  “Rasch . . . don’t you understand?

  “I need this shack to keep my fish cold in the permafrost below . . . I can’t afford refrigeration. My great-grandfather found this spot . . . and now you’re going to ruin me! . . . I swear I’ll sue for millions and get you fired if I’m not allowed back in tomorrow.”

  “Do whatever you need to do. But right now you need to leave this crime scene.”

  “Hey Rasch you little jerk . . . ever since you joined the police you’ve been acting like you’re a real big man in town. I remember when you went to school with my little brother and he used to beat the daylights out of you.”

  “Are you leaving or not?”

  “Alright . . . alright. Save the tough guy looks for someone else.”

  Rasch sighed as soon as he was alone. He knew that he too would soon have to leave the area that he had cordoned off in police tape. Forensics promised him they’d be over to start processing the shack within the hour. He wanted to but decided against ripping up the rest of the wood floor planks that he and Moen had pulled up.

  One of the corpses caught Rasch’s attention. A large white towel covered a barefoot man. The blood-soaked frozen-stiff towel read:

  WELCOME TO TROMSØ!

  Constable Rasch could not help thinking that Tromsø had turned out not to have been all that hospitable or welcoming to the nine bodies that he had found shot point-blank in the back of the head and buried quite unceremoniously under Moen’s fish shack in a remote location on the island of Reinøya.

  “Let’s see,” said Rasch to himself, “if I can get the old city slicker out here.”

  The constable took out his cell phone and dialed his boss who was at headquarters just 30 miles south of him. While Rasch dialed he noticed what appeared to be a square booklet next to one of the bodies.

  ~ ~ ~

  “What . . . nine bodies?” said Chief Inspector Fredrik Waldemar Hvoslef of the Troms politidistrikt. “Shot in the head? . . . Are you sure?”

  “Ja,” said Constable Rasch while he stared at the nine corpses. “All of the bodies have one hole in the back of the head . . . and big exit wounds in the front or the top of their heads.”

  “Arrange for the autopsies . . . call in forensic services to help you.”

  “I already did. Aren’t you coming?”

  “I . . . I can’t,” said Chief Inspector Hvoslef. He did not like leaving his comfortable and warm offices at 122 Grønnegata in downtown Tromsø. Nor did he want to travel on a small boat to the crime scene because he easily got seasick. In fact Hvoslef a transplant from Oslo rarely left the small island of Tromsøya where most of the city was located.

  “You can’t?”

  Hvoslef could almost hear the contempt on the other side of the telephone call. The constable seemed to ignore the fact that Tromsø sits 186 miles north of the Arctic Circle. In Hvoslef’s mind this cruel geographical fact meant that he faced imminent death year-round if he left the city limits to venture into the Arctic wastelands. Even during the summer months Chief Inspector Hvoself felt threatened by the vast empty wilderness that
surrounded him.

  “Sir . . . I think you need to come out here. I found a passport and an Interpol badge next to one of the bodies.”