IV
Even though I had more exciting things to ask both Herlofsen and the Wendelboes, I thought I might as well pop into Schelderup Hall as I was in Gulleråsen already.
Sandra Schelderup met me personally by the front door and looked as though she was in far better shape. She gave concise and clear answers to my questions. Following yesterday’s conversation, she had searched high and low without finding the missing key ring. The lock on the outside doors would be changed within a few hours and once that was done, she would not need to use precious police resources. There had been no signs of any disturbance at Schelderup Hall for the past few nights and the dogs had been quiet.
She said she realized that it was a very complex investigation and that I might not be able to say much more here and now, but that she hoped we were making progress. I confirmed this and said that we had our suspicions. Sandra Schelderup trilled with relief to hear this and said that her daughter wished to speak to me and would no doubt appreciate this news too.
V
The door to Maria Irene Schelderup’s room was closed, but was quickly opened when I knocked on it.
Her room turned out to be a combined bedroom and study. There was plenty of floor space, even though she had a separate corner suite with a television and stereo player, a large desk and a neatly made-up four-poster bed. In the doorway stood a smiling Maria Irene in an unexpectedly elegant outfit: a fitted black cocktail dress. The light caught the gold chain she was wearing around her neck and sparkled in the red diamond pendant.
Maria Irene had obviously been studying as some of her schoolbooks were lying on the desk, but she waved me in and closed the books. I commented that books on economy and law were not part of the curriculum when I took my exams. She laughed and replied that that was still the case, but that she was going to university in the autumn and, anyway, she was not an ordinary pupil.
I could not have agreed more, and queried whether such elegant working clothes were normal at Schelderup Hall. She laughed and replied with a quick wink that she only wore this when she was expecting very special guests.
I did not have much to tell her about the investigation, nor did I have many questions to ask her. As far as the ring was concerned, her answer was more or less the same as her mother’s, as was the case regarding the key ring and the situation at Schelderup Hall. The only thing that she added was an apology for her mother’s emotional outbursts in connection with the reading of the will.
We stayed sitting on the sofa all the same and time simply flew by. There was no doubt that Maria Irene still fascinated me more than any of the other parties in the case, despite the fact that as their pasts unfolded, their lives were far more gripping. There was something about the dignity and calm that she exuded, combined with her youth and beauty, which stood in sharp contrast to the outbursts from Magdalena Schelderup and the other older people who were nearing the end of their lives.
I allowed myself to say that it must have been very difficult for her to witness such tragedies in her close family at such a young age. Maria Irene assured me that she would cope, but admitted that the past few days had been very demanding. She thanked me with a very sweet smile for my concern.
Maria Irene placed her small hand on my shoulder as she said this. Her hand was softer and warmer than I had imagined. It was only now that I noticed that the top three buttons of her dress were undone, so that the upper part of her young bosom was visible.
I would later have considerable problems explaining even to myself what happened in the next few seconds. I seemed to leave my body in some peculiar way. I heard Maria Irene’s voice saying that she had found the last days here at Schelderup Hall very difficult and lonely, and that it would cheer her up immensely if I would dance with her. I heard my own voice saying yes, that taking three minutes out of my working day must surely be allowed, and certainly if it was to help her. I saw Maria Irene smile, lean forward, put a single on the turntable and start the record. The movement meant that even more of her bosom peeped out from under her dress and the gold chain.
Then, suddenly, we were up and I was dancing with her to the tune of a hit from a couple of years back, Nancy and Frank Sinatra’s duet ‘Something Stupid’. Under the veil of the music, Maria Irene whispered to me that it was her favourite song and that it was kind of me to dance with her. I replied that the song suited her well. I thought that Nancy Sinatra’s voice was very like Maria Irene’s, but that Maria Irene was more beautiful.
Whether I actually whispered this to her or not, I could not say for certain later. I remember that I thought her body felt safer and firmer in my arms, that her smile was more beautiful, and that her red lips were even closer to mine. I could hardly avoid letting my eyes slide down her neck, and did not even try. First they rested on the spectacular diamond, but then they slid down even further to look at her spectacular breasts. I was struck by the dizzying and slightly absurd thought that I had been asked to dance by a very beautiful young heiress who was worth at least 40 million kroner, in her home, when no one else was there.
We seemed to glide in circles over the floor as though entranced, with a slightly unreal feeling that I had never experienced before on the dance floor. But then again, I had stepped out onto a very special dance floor with a very special young lady. We were over by the record player when, to my annoyance, the music faded out. To my relief, Maria Irene let go of one hand and deftly put the needle down again.
We continued to dance and circle round the room for another three minutes. Our circuit took us from the sofa to her four-poster bed. As the melody faded for a second time, Maria raised her red and breathy mouth to mine. It stopped less than an inch away. I looked down into her dark eyes. And in that moment I felt certain that she would not object in any way if I was to do the only thing in the world that I wanted to do. In other words, to lift her up and kiss her beyond all reason.
Suddenly I was at the point where the temptation was so overwhelming that the rest of the world and all its worries seemed to disappear. This time it felt as though I forgot not only time and place, but also age and planet. I looked down into Maria Irene’s face, with an almost taunting smile curled on her red lips and a twinkle in her brown eyes, but still that bottomless calm. I felt a flash of teasing anger, and a deep desire to remove that taunting smile and peace from her face. In my ears I heard a kind of echo of Maria Irene’s voice from our first interview, remarking that Synnøve Jensen was surprisingly voluble in bed for someone who otherwise was so quiet. And I was instantly overcome by an irresistible desire to find out what sort of sounds were hidden in Maria Irene.
I had just lifted her up the tiny distance that still separated us when we were quite literally brought back down to earth with a bump by a noise outside in the hallway. There was a knocking at the door and an extremely irritated maternal voice said: ‘Maria Irene, if the detective inspector is still with you, please do not plague him with that terrible music of yours.’
It was the first time in the investigation that I had actually hated one of the parties involved. I would later be very grateful to Sandra Schelderup and shudder to think what might have happened if she had come a little later or, even worse, walked straight in. It is more than likely that ten seconds later I would have been standing there with my tongue in Maria Irene’s mouth. And it was not unfeasible that a minute later, I would have been lying on top of her on the four-poster bed, the spell felt so strong. But thankfully it was broken by her mother’s voice. I let go of Maria Irene instantly, as though she was burning – which in fact was perhaps not so far from the truth.