I breathed a sigh of relief at this news and patted myself on the back for having maintained a police presence at Schelderup Hall overnight. The terrifying thought that young Maria Irene might be involved in the murders in any way receded, even though last night’s alibi did not mean that either she or her mother could be excluded from having taken part in the murder of Magdalon Schelderup.
Sandra Schelderup also seemed pleased to have an alibi. In light of this, I then let her decide whether she felt it was necessary to keep a police guard at Schelderup Hall or not. She thought for moment or two and then replied that as they had the dogs and since there was really nowhere to hide in the garden, the officers could perhaps leave the following day, unless of course there were any signs of danger in the meantime.
I had just lifted the receiver to call the Wendelboes when I suddenly remembered the questions that Patricia said I should ask about the war. I also needed to get hold of Fredrik Schelderup to tell him about his brother’s death, and to pay him a visit. So in the end I made a brief telephone call to both of them only to arrange a visit within the next couple of hours.
One could not help but admire Fredrik Schelderup’s equilibrium, or be deeply shocked by his indifference. I tended more towards the latter. Whichever it was, he certainly seemed to be extremely at ease as he lounged opposite me in the comfort of a velvet sofa in his spacious home in Bygdøy. He had graciously accepted my condolences on the loss of his brother, but showed absolutely no sign of grief.
I thought to myself that Fredrik Schelderup’s home suited his personality: the house and furniture were of high quality, but their owner had done little to look after them. The room was dusty and untidy. The most striking feature was all the wine glasses and flutes that covered every surface, and the second most striking thing was the drinks cabinet that was larger than a fridge.
Within the last twenty-four hours, Fredrik Schelderup had lost a half-brother and seen his inheritance increase by millions. Neither of these things appeared to have made much of an impression on him. But the man was not entirely without social antennae. He quickly registered my surprise at his lack of interest and started to talk without being prompted.
‘You must excuse my lack of visible grief. That is what happens when you grow up in Schelderup Hall and have more money than you deserve. Leonard had a mother I did not care for and paid no attention to, and I had a mother he did not care for and paid no attention to. The only thing we shared was a father whom neither of us cared for, but both always paid attention to. And not only were we born to the same father from different mothers, we also inherited different genes from him. We shared many of the same problems, but solved them in very different ways. Leonard chose to rise to Father’s expectations by succeeding in arenas other than those Father had hoped for. And my choice to have no ambition whatsoever was even more provoking.’
