This conclusion was a disappointment that I should have expected. It had felt as though Herlofsen was in free fall. But he still categorically denied any involvement in the murder. There was no evidence that pointed to him as a more likely murderer than either the Wendelboes or Magdalena Schelderup.
I felt no need to thank Herlofsen, despite the fact that he had provided me with some very interesting information. So instead I reprimanded him for not having told me this before. It was already dawning on him just how vulnerable his position was and he was now visibly nervous.
Just as Magdalena Schelderup had done a few hours earlier, he now asked if he was under arrest. After a short pause for thought, I replied that he was still free for the moment, but that he was a suspect and that he had to remain available for further questioning over the next few days. He repeated that he had nothing to hide with regard to the murders. As I left the office, he withdrew into the world of numbers again with a faint smile on his lips. I felt rather uncertain as to whether the smile was connected to the numbers or to the way in which the meeting had gone.
Fredrik Schelderup and I definitely had a lower percentage of alcohol in our blood today. He was almost totally sober when I arrived, and had even tidied up the table since I was last there.
The first thing we talked about was the missing keys. He apologized for his outburst the night before and said that he would be happy to accept the offer of a constable to keep watch. He remembered his father’s large key ring well: it had always been a symbol of his power and control. His father had had a key to his door for years, but had never used it. Now that he was sober and had the safety chain on, Fredrik was relatively calm about the missing keys.
I used the opportunity to ask him directly whether he knew that his brother had a lover, but that it was not a woman. He was undecided for a moment or two, but then nodded.
‘I might perhaps be lazy, egotistical and generally of no use to society, but I am not a criminal and I do not lie to the police. Yes, I have known for many years that Leonard was happiest in the company of men. I asked him about it when he was nineteen. I had had my suspicions for a while by then. Leonard was good at not saying anything, but was hopeless at lying. He admitted it straight away. He was terrified and asked me never to tell anyone. I promised that I would not. Then I added that I would be happy for him to keep it secret for my part too. It would hardly benefit my reputation as a party animal if people knew that I had a brother who slept with men. The ladies tend to think it is contagious and, what is more, hereditary. That is to say, a number of the ladies I socialize with do.’
