Any discussion of how fair God may or may not be was beyond my competence, so I said that it must have felt very odd for her to prepare the food together with Sandra Schelderup.
‘She is a good cook, I will give her that. But yes, it was a rather bizarre and uncomfortable situation. It was Magdalon’s idea and neither of us dared to ask why. So we just made the food together as best we could and talked as little as possible while we did it. And I can guarantee that there were no powdered nuts or any other form of poison in the food when it left the kitchen. We both kept a close eye on each other the whole time.’
I did not doubt that. But I did comment that she herself had usurped the place of an older woman here at Schelderup Hall. Her sigh was heavy.
‘That was different. Magdalon and I were happy until the day she turned up here like a snake in paradise. His first wife was unhappy here, though she may not have recognized that herself, and they should never have got married. But of course it was not very nice then and it still is not nice now. Her fate was even more tragic than my own. No woman has a child with Magdalon Schelderup without the rest of her life being marred by it. And apparently no one is thrown out of Schelderup Hall without wanting to come back. It is strange, the power he holds over us. In that way he was a true sorcerer.’
Irene Schelderup cheered up unexpectedly when I asked if she knew that Magdalon Schelderup had a new lover.
‘The illiterate secretary?’ she said, with an almost joking expression on her face.
I looked at her questioningly. She blushed a touch and cleared her throat before carrying on.
‘It was Magdalena who asked me if the illiterate secretary had moved in now, and I knew immediately what she meant. The secretary is no doubt well above the average literacy in her own family, but still well below the average in ours. So I thought perhaps he wanted something else from her and am only too happy to admit that I hoped that was the case. It certainly would have been a twist of fate and only fair if Sandra was also thrown out on the rubbish pile in favour of a younger, more attractive secretary. He once joked to me that he believed that any marriage was doomed when the average age of the partners was over fifty. And his new marriage had certainly crossed that line by a good margin.’
The corners of her mouth twitched for a moment as she said this, but it was a bitter smile that did not reach her eyes.
Ingrid Schelderup also denied any knowledge of the contents of the deceased’s will. She had received less financially after the divorce than she had hoped, but had sufficient to live without any worries when she added the inheritance from her parents.
Magdalena, the sister, had come to visit regularly in all the years that Ingrid Schelderup had lived here. And yet she had the impression that the relationship between the two siblings was formal rather than heartfelt. Others who appeared to be close to him in the time that she lived here were the three guests seated at the table today: Herlofsen, the manager, and the Wendelboes. Apparently after she left the neighbours had started to say: ‘The only thing that changes at Schelderup Hall is the name of the wife and the number of children.’ She thought that the relationship with Herlofsen had been close, almost friendly, in the years immediately after the war, but Magdalon had later treated him with sarcasm and scorn.
Ingrid Schelderup stopped suddenly and sat deep in thought after having spoken about her former husband and his manager. I eventually realized that she was sitting like this with her brow furrowed so that I would ask her a question. Which I then did: I asked her to tell me what she was wondering whether she should tell me.
She smiled with relief, but it felt slightly forced.
‘I must say you really are very observant and quick, Detective Inspector. Yes, in the years just after the war, I once had a very odd experience with the manager, Hans Herlofsen, which I still can scarcely believe happened… I was passing my husband’s office when the door opened, but no one came out. Then I tripped over something on the floor. Which turned out to be Hans Herlofsen. He stood up immediately and apologized profusely, but offered me no explanation. He was so pale and so frightened, I would almost say terrified, that I only recognized him because of his suit. I could feel his entire body trembling when I put my hand on his shoulder. I carried on without saying anything, and never mentioned the episode to either my husband or Herlofsen. It all seemed so very unreal, and yet I am still certain that it did actually happen.’
My interest was of course piqued and I immediately asked when this had happened. She shrugged apologetically, but thought it must have been shortly before she was forced to leave the house in spring 1949.
I was not quite sure what to think, but noted down the story with interest. Ingrid Schelderup herself seemed quite upset by the memory, and repeated a couple of times that she was quite certain that it was as she remembered. She then calmed down again when we started to talk about the others who were present.
Magdalon Schelderup’s relationship with the Wendelboes seemed to be more balanced, and if there was a man he respected other than himself, it was Petter Johannes Wendelboe, she thought. But still she found herself wondering why the Wendelboes were such frequent visitors to the house, as they seldom said very much or made their presence known. But then there was hardly a relaxed social atmosphere at Magdalon Schelderup’s gatherings. Laughter and jokes were not encouraged among the younger members of the family, either, with Magadalon Schelderup at one end of the table and Petter Johannes Wendelboe at the other. She had never asked about any details from the war, but had always assumed that they had both seen and done difficult things. Neither of them became any less serious or authoritarian as they got older. But whereas Wendelboe appeared to be utterly unchanged, she had the impression that Magdalon’s moods had become even darker in recent years.
‘There were two Magdalons: the one who was all seriousness and work, and the one who was the world’s most charming man. Unfortunately, I have not seen the latter for many years now,’ Ingrid Schelderup added in a quiet voice. She had had no idea, however, that her former husband felt that he was now in danger.
When I asked her who she thought might have killed Magdalon Schelderup, she became grave and thoughtful.
‘If things are as you say with the secretary, well then there is an obvious motive for his current wife, in terms of both jealousy and money. But that is, of course, simply something I hope, not something I know. I can give you my word with regard to myself and my son. And as for the others, I suspect all and none of them.’
I was starting to realize that this would be a long and difficult investigation. But for the present, I had no more questions for Ingrid Schelderup. She also asked for permission to leave, and was granted this once she had given me a telephone number and a promise to stay in town.
XII
I had initially thought of calling in the Wendelboes separately. However, when he then came marching in with her in tow and seemed so determined, I did not dare protest.
Petter Johannes Wendelboe said that he was sixty-seven years old, and despite his white hair he was still a straight-backed and solid man with lithe, dynamic movements. Else Wendelboe was sixty-three, petite, and still a natural blonde. It struck me that she must have been extremely beautiful in her youth. I noted down that her maiden name was Wiig.