“I’d want to get back real bad, to even the score. Just like you do now.”
“Yes, I do, now that everything has changed. Within a few months we will be in Norway, taking it back from the Germans. We’ve been dreaming about this since 1940.”
“You’re telling me all this because…?”
“Because as much as I want to be part of this invasion, as important as it is to me, I won’t answer your questions. No matter what the consequence.”
“Jens, I already know that shortly before six o’clock you were seen returning to your room. You had left your door unlocked and went in very quietly. Then you told me the sentries woke you about six thirty after they found Birkeland’s body. I know you were out of your room in the early morning hours and that you lied about the time you were up. Why not just fill in the blanks?”
“No.”
“Were you in Birkeland’s room that morning?”
“Not until I entered with you.”
“Were you in anyone else’s room that morning?” I could see him think about that question. Evidently he didn’t mind answering questions that skirted the issue of why he was out of his room. I was beginning to get an idea.
“No, I can tell you that much.”
“Did you see anyone else?” He shook his head.
“Does that mean you didn’t see anyone or won’t tell me?”
“Billy, I am not withholding any information that would bear on Knut Birkeland’s death. I know you are somewhat single-minded, but not everything that happens here has to do with his death. Some things are personal… private.”
“Until I know that something doesn’t matter, it does.”
“That does indeed make you single minded, or childlike, as if the whole world revolves around you and your needs. It doesn’t, Billy. The world goes on, with or without us or even Knut Birkeland. The invasion will go on, regardless of what you find out.”
Not exactly, I thought to myself. Maybe the invasion, yes. It will go on. But this is my world-the investigation, the intrusion, the hanging on until it’s solved or I run out of air speed and ideas. Until then, this is my universe and I’m the center of it, and I like it just like that.
“Are you telling me to back off?” I asked.
Jens shrugged, as if it didn’t really matter.
“You cannot even be sure Birkeland was murdered. It may have been a suicide. You have to admit it is somewhat ironic that one death receives so much attention in the midst of a war with thousands of deaths. Here we are working on plans for the invasion and the Underground uprising. Who knows how many on both sides will die?”
“So what’s just one death when we can look forward to so many more?”
“I mean… there is so much to look forward to, so much to do. And we will need every man to help. Why not just leave things to the Almighty? Perhaps if Birkeland really was murdered, God will punish the killer. As you say, there will be death enough very soon.”
“I’m only a cop, or whatever I am now in this job. I make it a practice to leave God’s punishment up to him, as soon as I send a bad guy his way. You need to understand something, Jens. I’m going to find out what happened. In order to do that, I need to know everything that went on this morning, whether you like it or not. Even if it hurts somebody. Even if it hurts her.”
Jens jumped like he’d been poked with a sharp stick. Wow, had I been right.
“Who?”
“Her. The woman you’re protecting. The woman who was in your room last night. The woman who you probably escorted back to her quarters, being such a gentleman. Am I right, or were you off killing Knut Birkeland instead?”
Jens just about collapsed into a chair. His hands covered his face as he tried to mask his emotions. “ Gudshjelp meg,” he said in a whisper. “God help me.” He rubbed his eyes as if he were very tired.
“I did not kill Knut Birkeland, Billy. If you can figure out everything else, you should know that much.”
“What about her? Who is she?” Well, he was the one who called me single-minded.
“It’s more… complicated than you might think. If it would help you, I would tell you, but there is nothing she could know. And it would cause… great pain.”
“Tell me one thing, Jens. Did you take her all the way back to her room?”
“No, I didn’t want us to be seen together. I took her down to the first floor, and then she went on from there.”
“Then I need to talk to her. She may have seen something after she left you, something she’s not even aware of.”
“No. I will not put her through this.”
“It sounds like this goes beyond your normal slap and tickle, Jens.”
“What does that mean?”
“How do you say ‘romp in the hayloft’ in Norwegian?”
A limp smile lifted his lips. “I think I understand. As I said, it is complicated. Much more complicated than that.”
“You love her, and she’s married?”
“That would be simple. I have fallen in love with her, but…”
His voice trailed off, and his eyes wandered to some distant place. Suddenly I realized that he was right. It probably was very complicated. So complicated that it made him miserable and might lead him to give up his dream of fighting his way back home.
“But what, Jens?”
“Her husband is missing in action. He is a ghost that haunts her. Now leave me alone.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I left him alone as soon as I realized I wasn’t going to get another word out of him. I walked down to the main entrance, went outside between the twin grim sentries, and gazed along the road we had driven down just two days ago, unaware of the undercurrents in Beardsley Hall that were stirring, as someone was getting ready to kill Knut Birkeland. I took a deep breath and let it out, hoping the fresh air would clear my mind and let me see a pattern emerging. Nothing. Nothing but the smell of flowers, damp greenery, and the faint pungent smell of gun oil hanging in the still air. The sentries’ Sten guns gleamed, the dark metal glistening with the perfume of death. I stepped off the smooth steps and onto the crushed stone driveway, liking the feel and sound of it underfoot.
I wondered about Jens and his female friend with the missing husband. That would throw a monkey wrench into his plans. It was one thing for a woman to have an affair right under her husband’s nose, at least then he had some chance of finding out. But missing in action? Maybe dead, maybe not? Maybe never to be seen again, maybe about to walk through the door tomorrow? That’s competition.
He was intent on protecting her, whoever she was, and I was lucky to have gotten anything out of him before he clammed up. Now I needed to talk to Major Cosgrove, to ask about his early morning stroll with Skak. He hadn’t been straight with me, but then again, who had? Every time I turned around I found somebody where they shouldn’t have been. I wasn’t any closer to finding a spy, the missing gold, or even figuring out if there really had been a murder. Suicide still didn’t make any sense to me, not for a guy like Knut Birkeland. He might have killed somebody if he got mad enough, but I couldn’t see him taking his own life. It was too introspective an act for a fellow like him.
But even with every Tom, Dick, and Lars wandering around Beardsley Hall before dawn, I couldn’t place anyone in Birkeland’s room, much less figure out how they could’ve killed him. I was tired and I was getting a headache. I was fed up with Norwegians and their holy crusade and healthy early morning walks. Maybe Jens had it right. Let God sort things out. I thought about saying a little prayer for help, but it had been so long since I had been to confession that I figured it would only piss God off. Maybe I should go to Mass this Sunday. I could write Mom and tell her about it, which would definitely make her day. But though it seemed like a good idea now, I knew come early Sunday morning, I might feel differently. I thought about food and drink and Daphne, not in that order. And sleep. Sleep would be good, too. But Cosgrove was bugging me. Why hadn’t he told me he was out with Skak at six o’clock in the morning? He might have seen someone or something, like blood on Vidar Skak’s hands. OK, that was a little overboard, but it would have made things a lot easier. I knew it would bother me all night if I didn’t deal with it now, so like a good little investigator I went back inside to find the major.