Her answer was absolute. So I moved quickly on.
‘And then there was the strange coincidence with Bjørn Varden. As I understand it, you happened to be in the flat only days before he was killed. Is that right?’
Magdalena Schelderup stubbed out her cigarette in a burst of fury and then slammed her bony hand down on the table.
‘My, everyone suddenly seems very keen to blame an old scapegoat. I won’t even ask if it was the Wendelboes or Bjørn Varden’s poor widow who told you that. I have always had nothing but sympathy for her. She lost her one true love in a much more painful way than I did. Though to be fair, she still had a child to live for, which is more than I did.’
The fire in Magdalena Schelderup’s ageing body flared up fast, but then died down again just as quickly. Her eyes were darker and her voice weaker when, after a slight pause, she spoke again.
‘I knew Mona Varden through her sister, who was in my class in the final year at school. We got on well back then. Then one day we met on the street and, as I had no children of my own, I was utterly charmed by hers. So I accepted her invitation to come in. I did not just turn up on her doorstep, and I knew nothing about the murder of her husband. In fact, I don’t think I ever met him.’
I had nothing more to ask her. But then, all of a sudden, I did, when I saw both of her hands on the table and realized what it was that was different.
‘But tell me, what has happened to your first engagement ring, the one that you said you would never take off?’
My apparently harmless question triggered an unexpected reaction. Magdalena Schelderup sobbed and hid her face in her hands before answering.
‘I wish I knew myself. I was wearing it when I drove to Schelderup Hall for the reading of the will on Monday. There was so much drama there that I did not notice until I was back home that I no longer had it on. The only explanation is that I took it off when I washed my hands in the bathroom before the will was read. I phoned immediately, but they claimed not to have found it in either the bathroom or anywhere else. So I just hope that it will turn up again somewhere, but it seems less and less likely. I have no idea who has taken it, but I am sure that it was one of the others who were there. They all hate me.’
I did not say anything. I had again hoped for an explanation but had instead uncovered another mystery. I remembered clearly that I had in fact noticed something odd about Magdalena’s hands at the reading of the will. When I looked at her bony old hands without any rings on, they reminded me suddenly of an eagle’s claws.
‘I am so upset about it. I drove around all the pawnbrokers in the area today, but no one has offered them anything similar. They would hardly have got any money for it. But I would give everything I have to get it back again. The ring is the only thing I have left from my love. Without it, I have nothing to show that we were ever together. For years I have had the notion that the day the ring disappears, I am not long for this world. I am a lonely old lady now and I perhaps believe in fate and other supernatural phenomena more than you young people do today.’
We sat in silence following her outburst. She seemed to be very old and tired, and I just felt more bewildered. Magdalena Schelderup’s missing ring was yet another mystery within the murder mystery. I promised her that I would keep my eyes peeled for the ring and would contact her immediately should it turn up.
She seemed to appreciate that and apologized as I left for being so emotional. New murders that unearthed old bodies were enough to rattle anyone’s nerves, she said. And it was easy enough to believe her, especially when I heard the safety chain going on only seconds after she had closed the front door behind me.
Magdalena Schelderup was increasingly becoming the incarnation of a bitter, lonely old woman. But I had to admit that she still had a sharp mind and sharp tongue. And I was not at all sure that she was not also a sharpshooter.
X
It was now half past six in the evening. The starter and main course had been eaten and the day’s events recounted. While we waited for the dessert to be served, Patricia sat in silence with a look of deep concentration on her face.
‘I do not like this case in the least, no matter how interesting it is. We are getting closer to the heart of the mysteries from the war and the past few days, but the details are becoming ever more alarming,’ she added after a pause.
‘The new letter…’
Her nod was very grave indeed.
‘That is one of the things I like least of all, yes. There may be a danger of more deaths. And what is more, the green pen mark on the envelope reinforces a terrible suspicion that I have and sends a shiver down my spine, even though I am sitting indoors in May.’
She was quite literally shivering in her wheelchair.
‘The letter is extremely short and very like the previous one, but there is not much more to be learnt from it, other than that it is possibly the same person who carried out both murders, or is there?’
To my astonishment, Patricia was already shaking her head.
‘This letter is very similar to the last one, but also very different. The same type of paper, the same type of envelope, the same type of stamp and the same type of typewriter. And both contain the same pretty useless rhyming. But whereas the first is very detailed in content, the second is noticeably vague. No date, no details of the murder, not even the name of the latest victim. There is nothing to indicate that the writer had even been to Leonard Schelderup’s flat. So it is best that we keep all options open for the moment.’
Beate came in with the dessert, which today was a delicious chocolate pudding with whipped cream. As usual, Patricia did not say anything while the maid was in the room, but then quickly carried on as soon as we were alone.
‘The disappearance of the ring is also ominous, even though I do not believe in fate or other such superstitious nonsense. Either Magdalena Schelderup is lying about why the ring has disappeared, or one of the others has taken it. Neither of which is accidental. So I am more or less certain that one of the parties involved now has the ring, and that he or she has a plan for it, though I have not the faintest idea of what that might be. And the fact that I have not the foggiest about something I need to know is very unnerving indeed.’
The latter was said with an ironic smile. But Patricia was serious again as soon as I asked my next question.
‘What are your thoughts about Hans Herlofsen?’
‘A lot of what he says may be true, but I doubt that it is the whole truth. The pot of gold left to him in the will, though overshadowed by the three main bequests, has been bothering me. It is not at all like Magdalon Schelderup to write off a debt as easily as that.’
I sent her a questioning look and she let out a patronizing sigh.
‘Let’s do a little thought experiment: you are Hans Herlofsen, you believe that Magdalon Schelderup was the Dark Prince, you owe him lots of money, you see that he is starting to get old and you have no reason to expect any generosity from his wife and daughter. What would you do?’
I thought for a while and had to admit that she had a point.
‘First of all, I would hope for the best, but that would not appear to be very promising in the case of Magdalon Schelderup. So, the other alternative would be to confront him with it.’
Patricia nodded.
‘Precisely – which is probably what I would do. Or discuss the case with Wendelboe, who I know Schelderup holds in awe. In fact, perhaps I would do both. Ask Wendelboe and Herlofsen about it tomorrow. When you speak to Wendelboe, ask him detailed questions about his wife’s involvement too. I suspect that he comes from the old school who would rather not lie to the police, but that he reserves the right not to say anything about things he is not asked about.’