In response to my question regarding Magdalon Schelderup’s relationship with his daughter, Sandra Schelderup replied thoughtfully that it had been ‘better than expected’. Magdalon Schelderup had wanted a son and did nothing to hide it. He had commented several times during the pregnancy it was unlikely that he could be as unlucky with a third son. ‘Better luck next time!’ had been his first response when he came to the hospital and she told him that he had a beautiful daughter.
‘But there never was a next time. It bothered him, and I was fearful of my position as I could not give him the son he so wanted. But in the end his relationship with Maria Irene was surprisingly good. It was not unknown for him to hit his sons, but he never touched his daughter. And in recent years he commented several times that, of all his children, she was the one who resembled him most. On a couple of occasions he even added that it was no doubt because, of all of his wives, I was the one who resembled him most. So he acknowledged more and more frequently that we were the two who were closest to him. I just hope that he was sufficiently aware of this to recognize it in the will.’
I took a deep breath and asked her whether she knew that her husband had kept a young mistress for the past couple of years.
Her reaction was unexpectedly relaxed. A shadow crossed her face, but she was otherwise in full control of her expression and movements.
‘I pretended not to know, both to him and my daughter. But of course I noticed. And he made no effort to disguise it. One would have to be remarkably naive not to understand, when she more or less moved in here at his suggestion. It was terrible to begin with and for the first six months I expected to be thrown out at any moment. But over time I came to realize that this was no new great love, but rather the final physical fancy of a vigorous yet ageing man. There was no indication that he had any plans for a third divorce. After all, if he were to get married for a fourth time to an uneducated girl who could be his grandchild, it would make his life very difficult. It was bad enough when he left his former wife to marry me, and he had become more careful over the years. Of course, I did not like her or her presence here in the slightest, but I gradually came to see her as less of a threat. And now it is over. She will no longer have a job to come to tomorrow morning.’
It was impossible for me not to tell her the truth – that Synnøve Jensen was in fact pregnant.
This time the reaction was dramatic. Sandra Schelderup leapt out of her chair, hit the table with balled hands and shouted: ‘Impossible. It can’t be his child!’
When I asked whether it had been medically proven that Magdalon Schelderup could no longer have children, she shook her head sheepishly, then suddenly blushed deeply.
It struck me that I already appeared to be tainted by the ruthless atmosphere at Schelderup Hall. I realized that this was a great blow to Sandra Schelderup both as a woman and a wife, but could not feel any real sympathy for her.
‘That too,’ she said, sitting down with a heavy sigh. ‘And unborn children have the same inheritance rights as other children, don’t they?’ she added, quickly.
I confirmed this, but said that it could often be difficult to prove in such cases.
‘And obviously that will be true here – unless he has left behind some kind of written acknowledgement that he is the father?’
I nodded.
‘So Magdalon’s will is even more important than ever – both for your investigation and for my life.’
I agreed with her and repeated that it was my hope that we would be informed of the contents of the will within the next day or so. As if by unspoken arrangement, we both stood up at the same time.
Sandra Schelderup commented from the doorway that I had no doubt already heard unfavourable things about her from the others. She asked me to bear in mind that there are always two sides to a story and that she had had her struggles too. She was a country girl who had had to work her way up from simple beginnings when she was young. It had not been easy to be married to Magdalon for eighteen years, nor had it been easy to be accepted as his third wife.
I found this to be entirely credible, but let the door close firmly behind her all the same before I made ready to leave.
XIV
The air felt clearer and sweeter when I finally managed to get away from Schelderup Hall and the irascible dogs. But the situation remained very unclear for all that. The next question was whether my first phone call should be to Patricia or to the lawyers, Rønning, Rønning & Rønning.
When I finally got home at around nine o’clock, I followed my instincts and called Patricia first. She answered the telephone on the second ring. To my great relief, her voice sounded exactly as it had one a year ago. And she seemed to brighten up when she heard that it was me and that I was calling about a new murder investigation. For the next half hour, she listened without saying a word while I outlined my initial impression of the case.
‘And your conclusion?’ I asked, optimistically.
‘That I still do not know who murdered Magdalon Schelderup. There are far too many alternatives and theories that may prove to be true. But I would be more than happy to help you find out. We managed very well with seven potential murderers in the same building last year, so we will just have to see if we can extend our repertoire to include ten possible murderers in a mansion this year.’
I was very happy to hear Patricia sounding so optimistic and enthusiastic, and she hurried on.
‘There are several strange and significant things that I would like to discuss with you tomorrow. But you have no doubt already given some consideration to what is currently the strangest and most significant point. Have you discovered any explanation as to why on earth Magdalon Schelderup could be so certain that there was no risk of an attempt on his life before Tuesday? After all, Tuesday afternoon is very specific…’
I said that I had given it some thought, but had not found any good explanation. The latter being more true than the former.
Patricia’s voice sounded even more amused; I could almost see her smile down the telephone wire.
‘There are several possible explanations. Now, what happens with remarkable predictability at some point late on Tuesday mornings that might be of considerable significance here? Hint: every day, with the exception of Sundays and holidays…’
I racked my brain, but following a longer pause for thought, declared that I was unable to solve the mystery – despite her hint. Patricia’s first triumph was audible, even on the phone.
‘And the correct answer is: the first delivery of post sent on Monday is on Tuesday morning. Let us imagine that Magdalon Schelderup was holding back an important announcement about his will or the future of the business, for example, and therefore did not need to fear for his life until he had let those concerned know. If he then posted this to those concerned on Monday, he need not anticipate an attack until Tuesday afternoon at the earliest. Which does not sound entirely unfeasible, especially if we imagine that this was something about his will that he had planned to announce to the guests at dinner on Sunday, but that he was waiting to post until Monday, in anticipation of his meeting with you. The primary question would then be what he was going to write. The next question would be who he was going to send it to. The third question would be whether he had already written the letter, and the fourth question would then be where has he stowed it. Are you following so far?’
I croaked a ‘yes’, but that was already only just.
‘Excellent. Then you will check tomorrow whether there are any unsent letters in his office or bedroom, and then, if necessary, ask his wife, his secretary and his manager. Find out what more Hans Herlofsen and Magdalena Schelderup have to say in their defence. Take with you anything that you find of interest in the war archives regarding the Dark Prince and the circumstances surrounding Ole Kristian Wiig’s death on Liberation Day in 1945. Might a rather unromantic but possibly very interesting supper at my place tomorrow at half past five tempt you?’