To my enormous relief, Patricia appeared to be unaffected by the strain that last year’s events had put on her nerves. She sat radiant by the table, ready to hold court, and showed no sign of having taken up smoking again as she had in the final stages of the our first case. The air was clean and Patricia’s face was as bright as the summer sun. I could neither see nor hear any changes in the now nineteen-year-old Patricia, compared with the eighteen-year-old with whom I had shared ten intense days of investigation the year before. The pile of books she was reading at the moment included a detective story by the American author Rex Stout, a Russian book with several chessboard diagrams on the front cover and a thick English book about the great battles of the First and Second World Wars.
As had been the case when we first met, we made no attempt to shake hands. Now that I was once again in the middle of a murder case, it felt quite natural to be sitting here, asking for advice.
Patricia listened with intense concentration and made copious notes, while I used the time it took for us to eat the asparagus soup and half the beef tenderloin to tell her about the day’s events. As was her wont, she listened patiently until I had finished my account of the facts of the case. She finished her last slice of tenderloin and washed it down with a glass of iced water, deep in thought. And then she took off at speed.
‘First of all, I should congratulate you on another good day’s work. The case is clearly very complicated, but you have already managed to draw out an impressive amount of information that answers a number of my questions.’
She pointed casually to the detective novel in the pile of books.
‘Your talents are indeed greater than those of Archie Goodwin in Rex Stout’s novels. So I for my part, despite being well under half the size, will have to try to surpass Nero Wolfe’s ability to spot brilliant connections without physically leaving the safety of my home.’
Despite Goodwin’s popularity with the opposite sex, I was not entirely happy with the comparison. Nor was I comfortable with being reminded of what had happened, or what could easily have happened, when I persuaded Patricia to leave the safety of her home for a few hours during the last case. So I hastened to ask what she had to say about the case so far.
All of a sudden, Patricia became very serious.
‘That this case is not likely to be any easier to solve than the last one, but that it may be even more gruesome. Although many things from Harald Olesen’s past were revealed in the course of the investigation, this Magdalon Schelderup already appears to be a man with some very unsympathetic sides – indeed, a man who might therefore leave an even more indelible mark on the people around him. We are obviously dealing with a rather unique murder in terms of Norwegian criminal history. I am starting to believe that we are also talking about a remarkable murder victim, for better or worse, but mainly for worse. So my first observation is that we will find an exceptionally strong connection between the murder and the victim’s life and personality. It is far too early to have an opinion as to who might have put the powdered nuts in his food. I can imagine several options that would imply that all ten guests could be murderers.’
