Sundt was the seventh police chief Wisting had worked under. Introduced as a leader to face the force’s social challenges and future change, one of his first actions had been to reorganise internal resource from criminal investigation to community policing. Wisting understood the need for a more visible and accessible force, but his personnel numbers were undermined when every lead had to be checked with accompanying paperwork.
‘I came to hear how this Hummel case is going,’ the Police Chief said. ‘It was unresolved when I started in this post, and so it remains six months later.’
Wisting sat in the vacant chair, holding his cup in his hand. ‘It’s been one of the most challenging cases we’ve ever had.’
‘The body’s been found. Isn’t that what you’ve been waiting for?’
‘That does give us some answers, but also a few more questions.’
‘Do you have a suspect?’
‘Not as things currently stand.’
‘A lot of people are starting to become impatient,’ he said. ‘Myself included.’
‘We’re waiting for the lab results following the post mortem and examination of the crime scene,’ Wisting said. ‘I’m hoping that the next few days will bring some progress.’
The Chief of Police stood up as if to indicate that he had said all he intended to. ‘The court case against Dan Roger Brodin begins in Kristiansand on Monday. I understand you’ve been snooping around in their case documents. Whatever steps you take in your own enquiry, don’t do anything to screw up the case down there. It’s fully investigated and stands as an example of good, speedy and effective police work. Don’t meddle unnecessarily in that enquiry.’
Wisting also got to his feet, still holding his coffee cup. ‘There are a few unanswered questions . . .’
‘There are always questions that we don’t find answers to. I’ve been an Appeal Court judge for almost twenty years. Hypothetical doubt is not desirable in a courtroom. Don’t do anything that might give grist to the defence counsel’s mill.’
Wisting remained on his feet, gazing after him when he left. His coffee hadn’t even had time to go cold.
44
The phone call from the ballistics technician at Kripos came immediately after eleven o’clock and was succinct. The gun that killed Jens Hummel was the same one that had been used in the New Year Murder.
Wisting gathered the investigators in the conference room, without telling them what it was about. He closed the door behind the last to arrive and flicked the switch that turned on the red light outside.
The others were seated, but Wisting stood, his legs astride behind his chair at the end of the table, like a sea captain about to change course. ‘We’re faced with an entirely new situation,’ he said. ‘We’ve found the gun that killed Jens Hummel.’
His words were met with puzzled looks. Wisting gave a brief account of the new test results that left no doubt that Jens Hummel and Elise Kittelsen had been murdered with the same gun, sitting again as conversation broke out round the table.
Elise Kittelsen was a random robbery victim and the perpetrator had already been caught. The Hummel case appeared to have links to organised crime. The victim in their case had been in Kristiansand at the same time as Elise Kittelsen was murdered.
‘It could be as simple as that Jens Hummel found the weapon after the perpetrator threw it away,’ Torunn Borg suggested. ‘In that case, he would not be the first person to be murdered with his own gun.’
Christine Thiis glanced at Wisting, as if to remind him not to muddy the Kristiansand waters. Wisting did not feel convinced, but had to concede that Torunn Borg’s theory was one that the legal system would find acceptable.
‘If he was killed with his own weapon, that does not bring us any closer to the murderer,’ he said, pushing the ballistics report across the table. ‘The question that remains is: what was Jens Hummel doing in Kristiansand on New Year’s Eve?’
Nils Hammer browsed through his folder. ‘I think it may have something to do with Phillip Goldheim. The police in Kristiansand have collected a lot of material on him. I’m working to put it in order.’
‘Good,’ Wisting said. ‘We should really concentrate on him.’ He leafed through to a blank page in his notepad. ‘Apart from that, is there any news from Brunla farm?’
‘We’re beginning to get an overview of everyone who had a horse in the stable there in January, or who had some other connection to the farm at that time,’ said Torunn Borg. ‘We have spoken to a few, but I doubt whether that’s going to give us anything.’
The meeting went on for another half hour with discussions about links and connections. Fresh assignments were allocated before the meeting broke up, when Wisting returned to his own office and closed the door behind him. He knew that the police in Kristiansand had received the report about the comparison of the bullets in the two cases and had hoped that Harald Ryttingen would have phoned. Now it was Wisting who called him again.
He used his landline, which rang for some time. When Ryttingen finally took the call, he answered in an abrupt, toneless voice.
‘I assume you’ve received the ballistics report,’ Wisting said.
‘Yes,’ Ryttingen said.
‘Have you any opinion about how this is all connected?’
‘We’ve had this conversation before. There is no connection.’
‘The same murder weapon was used in both crimes.’
‘Those are just extraneous circumstances. It doesn’t mean the two cases are connected.’
‘I have a problem understanding what actually happened,’ Wisting said. ‘You have a fourteen-minute window of opportunity from the time the murder was committed until the perpetrator was apprehended. In the course of that time the weapon changed hands, and a short time later it was used in another murder case nearly two hundred kilometres away.’
‘No, the window of opportunity was much greater. It could have been found and picked up at any time in the course of the next few days.’
The police in Kristiansand had searched for the murder weapon throughout the night and during the following days. The map accompanying the report lay on the desk in front of Wisting with the search areas shaded in various colours. Nowhere had been overlooked. ‘But where did he get rid of the gun?’ Wisting asked.
‘The same place that he disposed of her mobile phone.’
Wisting drew the map towards him. ‘There are just so many unanswered questions. Have you contemplated postponing the court case?’
The question was greeted with a snort. ‘We have irrefutable evidence in this case,’ Ryttingen’s voice rose. ‘The perpetrator was caught just beside the crime scene, only minutes after the murder. Three eyewitnesses have pointed him out, and he had residue from the murder weapon on his right hand. In addition he had in his possession a map of the area. This case has run smoothly from the very first moment. Now it’s going to run equally quickly and effectively through court. Hopefully, this can correct some of the impression the public have of an incompetent police force lacking in application.’
Wisting realised that this was a direct criticism of his handling of the Hummel case.
‘What is it you want, actually?’ Ryttingen asked.
‘I want access to your null and void documents,’ Wisting replied, ‘the tip-offs and intelligence information.’
‘Do you think we’re hiding something?’
‘I want to look at the information from our point of view and with my own eyes.’
‘You think we’ve overlooked something? That you’ll see something we didn’t? Is that what you’re saying? That you’re better than us?’
‘I just don’t want to leave anything untested.’
Ryttingen gave a deep sigh. ‘The information you’re asking for is not stored electronically. It’s in ring binders. I can get someone to copy them and send them to you next week.’
‘I can come down and have a look at them,’ Wisting suggested. The other end went quiet. ‘An
yway, I want to come down and talk to him.’ Wisting took out the photograph of the young accused.
‘To whom?’
‘Dan Roger Brodin.’
‘Forget that. He’s our man.’
‘He’s my witness,’ Wisting said patiently. ‘He’s the last person we know was in possession of the gun that killed Jens Hummel.’
Harald Ryttingen was obviously irritated. ‘Wisting, I thought you’d been instructed not to do anything to screw up this case?’
Wisting sat back. That was the same expression that the Chief of Police had used. There must be talk behind the scenes.
‘Do you really think he’ll tell you anything?’ Ryttingen said. ‘He denies having anything to do with the crime. How could he then tell you what he did with the revolver? That would mean he has to admit having used it. Do you think he’ll confess to the murder just because you’re the one doing the asking?’ He snorted again. ‘You’re wasting your time. Dan Roger Brodin has refused to cooperate with the police from day one. But . . . by all means. Good luck!’
45
Line opened the double terrace doors and let sunlight into the living room. Standing with her back to the garden, she folded her arms. It had taken longer than she had estimated, but now, at last, the living room was completely redecorated. Her back was aching and she realised that she had perhaps taken on too much. She had not actually expected to receive much help from her father, but he had turned up whenever he could.
She put one hand on her belly. The movements were different now. The baby had become quieter, as if there was not much space left and it had become more difficult to move about in there.
The rest of the renovations would have to wait until after the birth, she thought. It was fast approaching and the nervousness she had felt at the beginning of her pregnancy was creeping back. There was nothing to be afraid of, the midwife had told her. Babies are born every single minute all round the world. However, for Line and all other first-time mothers, it was a completely new experience. Actually, she knew what scared her most. The actual labour was one thing, but the responsibility of being a single mother was even more frightening.
‘Hello!’ she heard her father shout from the front door.
‘Hi,’ she said, and went to greet him. ‘Have you time to visit?’
‘I brought some batteries for your doorbell,’ he said, taking down the apparatus from above the front door, where it left a faded shadow on the wall.
‘Have you time for a cup of coffee as well?’
‘Yes, please,’ he said. The batteries had leaked acid and were covered in a greyish-white coating. He picked up a screwdriver and began to scrape it clean.
‘Is it a long time since you had a visitor?’ he asked, blowing away the loosened verdigris.
‘Luckily for you,’ Line said, ‘I think I have some ice cream cake left as well.’
She took out the ice cream and switched on the coffee machine. Before it was ready, she heard ringtones in the hallway.
They sat in the kitchen and chatted about the renovations until her father changed the subject. ‘Have you spoken to Sofie today?’
Line shook her head. ‘I’m going to see her this evening. Why do you ask?’
‘I read your police statements.’ Line had anticipated that. ‘They were fine. Thanks for persuading her to come with you.’
‘She totally dissociates herself from her grandfather and everything he was involved in,’ Line said, going on to relate the story of how Sofie’s mother was arrested with her grandfather’s stash of drugs in the car. ‘He let her take the rap. It ended with her mother committing suicide in prison.’
Absorbed in thought, Wisting sat with his spoon in his hand.
‘Your ice cream’s melting,’ Line said. ‘What are you thinking about?’
‘Dan Roger Brodin.’
‘Who?’
‘The man charged with the New Year Murder. The court case begins on Monday.’
The name of the accused had not been publicised, but she had heard it at the newspaper office before she had left on maternity leave.
‘I thought so,’ Line said. ‘We covered it extensively at the time.’
Wisting produced a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket. ‘I’ve got something that might be of interest to them.’
Line recognised the Kripos logo on the paper he put down on the table. He placed his hand on it as he got to his feet. ‘No need to say where you got it.’
‘What is it?’
He did not answer, but instead moved abruptly to the door. ‘Thanks for the coffee, and the ice cream cake.’
‘Are you off already?’ Line sat at the table, perplexed, while he made his way out. Then she drew the document over. It was a report from a specialist in the technical section at Kripos and had to do with the comparison of bullets. The technical details and descriptions confused her, but the contents were familiar. The bullet from the weapon used in the New Year Murder came from the revolver she had handed in to her father. She already knew that, but there was more. The bullet from the test firing of the gun that had been handed in was also identical to a bullet from case number 10899421 – the murder of Jens Hummel.
Line blinked and suddenly felt cold. Thoughts and questions raced through her head, and she wished her father had not left in such a hurry. She read the report one more time to be sure that she had understood the conclusion. However, it was unmistakable. The gun from the safe in Sofie’s basement had been used in two homicides.
She stood up and began to clear the table. Her father had never given her information in this way before, but that was probably why he had come. It hadn’t only been about the doorbell.
46
Carrying a pot of coffee into his office, Wisting immersed himself again in the Kristiansand murder documents, cross-checking names of witnesses and others against criminal records. Several of Elise Kittelsen’s friends had a connection to the drugs scene in the city, and one who had given a statement was called Julian Broch. Some had described him as Elise’s boyfriend, but he had described them as ‘just good friends’. He had been previously sentenced for fraud and selling narcotics.
It gradually became clear that Elise Kittelsen had been on the periphery of a criminal environment, but there were no links to central figures such as Phillip Goldheim. Nothing suggested that she was anything other than an innocent victim.
At five to four, Christine Thiis entered, exactly one hour and forty minutes after he had left Line. ‘VG phoned,’ she said, sitting in the spare seat. ‘They know about the revolver. That it was used in both murders.’
Wisting leaned back in his chair and fixed his gaze on his half-empty cup of coffee. ‘Such things have a tendency to leak.’
‘It looks as though they have access to the report.’
‘It’s not information we’d be able to withhold. The court case begins in Kristiansand on Monday. The police down there have obviously been required to familiarise the defence lawyer with the report.’
Christine Thiis shook her head despondently.
‘What did you tell them?’ Wisting asked.
‘As little as possible. I confirmed it was the same weapon, and that it had been handed in after the death of the owner.’
‘I don’t suppose they contented themselves with that?’
‘I had to tell them that the revolver had been kept in a safe since the owner died in January, and that it had only been found now.’
‘Did you tell them about the robbery proceeds in the safe?’
‘They wanted to know if anything else had been found in the safe. I told them that the police had only received the revolver.’
Wisting turned to his computer screen and clicked into the Verdens Gang online edition. The story had not been published yet. If they felt certain of being the only ones in possession of the news report, they might wait to print it in the paper edition the following day.
Christine Thiis stole a glance at his notes. ‘What are your
plans?’
‘I’m going to Kristiansand early tomorrow morning.’
A furrow appeared at the bridge of her nose, as usually happened when she was sceptical. ‘What are you going to do there?’
‘Harald Ryttingen has given us access to the null and void documents,’ he said, without telling her how he had achieved that. ‘I’m going to go through the list of tip-offs.’
She said no more, but a movement of her head suggested she wanted to hear more.
‘And I’m also going to interview a witness,’ Wisting said.
‘What witness?’
‘Dan Roger Brodin.’
The furrow at the bridge of her nose disappeared as her eyes opened wide. ‘The killer?’
‘He’s the only one who knows what became of the murder weapon. Only he will know of the connection to our case.’
‘If there is a connection.’
‘We can’t leave that possibility untested.’
‘Do you think he’ll tell you anything?’ she asked. The furrow was back. ‘Do you think he will want to talk to you at all?’
Wisting pulled the coffee pot towards him. ‘I’ve left a message on his lawyer’s answering machine. I expect he’ll phone me back as soon as he’s read VG.’
Christine Thiis rose to her feet. ‘I’m coming with you.’
47
It was Friday afternoon, and the usual sounds of phones ringing and office doors opening and closing gradually died away. Slowly but surely the police station emptied of personnel. Wisting remained bowed over his case documents for another few hours, but did not find any more answers.
At seven o’clock, he got into his car and drove out from the backyard. On the seat beside him lay a map he had prepared of Kristiansand’s city centre streets and a printout of the statement given by Finn Bjelkevik, one of the three main witnesses to the New Year Murder. He lived in Sandefjord and had celebrated New Year in Kristiansand. Wisting keyed in his address on his GPS system and learned that it would take twenty-two minutes to drive to his home.
Ordeal (William Wisting Series) Page 17