I was about to sign my first report to the commanding officer at around a quarter past ten, when the telephone rang again. This time it was Leonard Schelderup’s voice on the other end, sounding even more upset than I had heard it the day before.
‘I do apologize for calling you so late. But I have just had a telephone call from someone who did not identify themself advising me to confess to the murder of my father. I of course replied that I was innocent, but the caller hung up immediately. It was a deeply unpleasant experience!’
I agreed that it must have been and asked straight away if he had recognized the voice. The tension in his own voice was even more audible when he replied.
‘No. The voice was distorted and in any case only said a few words. But it did sound familiar all the same, as if I had heard it before, but I would not dare to say where and when that might have been. And that only makes things worse.’
My attempt to pacify Leonard Schelderup by saying that it might just be some prankster who had read about the case in the newspaper was of little avail. He thought this highly unlikely, as his telephone number was not listed in the telephone directory and was only known to his close family and friends.
I had to concede that this was a fair point, and immediately offered to send a constable round to stand guard outside his front door. At first he accepted this offer, but then abruptly changed his mind and asked that no one stand guard before tomorrow morning at the earliest. He repeated this twice. He promised to think some more about the voice on the phone and to call me immediately if he had any idea of who it might be.
Leonard Schelderup sounded slightly calmer by the time we finished our conversation around eleven o’clock. ‘Thank you for taking the time to talk to me this evening, and hopefully we will talk again in the morning!’ were his last words before he hung up.
I did not take the opportunity to ask about his relationship with his father’s secretary, Synnøve Jensen. It was clear from Leonard Schelderup’s mood that it might be best to leave it until tomorrow and to discuss it in daylight.
After I put down the receiver, I sat for a further ten minutes speculating on yet another small mystery within the greater mystery of Magdalon Schelderup’s murder. Even though the day had brought to light a lot of new information, the answer did not feel any closer when I finally went to bed at a quarter past eleven.
