She looked me straight in the eye when she said this, and I had to agree with Detective Inspector Danielsen’s notes from 1968, despite my antipathy towards him. The witness appeared to be reliable, even if her story was rather bizarre.
Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen added that it was a man who had looked in, and that he had a mole on his chin, which she would recognize if she ever saw him again. But otherwise it was not possible to describe him in any more detail, because of the mask and the weather.
She was even more cautious about describing the person she had seen out in the storm, as the visibility was so poor. She had been a short distance away from the others, but was sure enough of what she had seen to shout to them and point at the shadow in the dark. However, it was quite far away and no one else had been able to see it clearly.
Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen looked at me directly again and repeated that she had seen something upright moving through the storm, and that it was too tall, too slim and not the right colour to be an animal. For want of any alternative, she could say with ninety per cent certainty that she had seen a person. She believed that it was a person who was not only walking away from the students, but from the cabin as well. But she added with a disarming and self-deprecatory smile that although her younger brother had inherited the family’s sense of direction, she had not, so she could not be sure.
I looked at my watch and discovered to my surprise that it was a quarter to six. I had been sitting here in the SPP office for more than half an hour, in an interview situation, with my face alarmingly close to that of Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen. And at no point had I been anywhere close to catching her off balance. There was perhaps more interest and curiosity in her eyes now than when we first met, but they were still just as calm and confident when they met mine. I was strongly inclined to believe everything she had said, even though I had several times told myself that this appeared to be a case in which no one could be trusted.
Whatever the case, I was now in danger of being late for my important meeting with the victim’s father. So I promptly thanked Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen for her answers and asked if I could contact her again should any relevant questions arise. She brightened up and said that she had a busy week ahead, what with her studies and party commitments, but that she would of course make time if it was necessary for the investigation. She unfortunately did not have a telephone in her student room, but for the next few days would be at the university library between nine and five, and at the party office between a quarter past five and ten in the evening.
