Death on Pilot Hill (an inspector harold sohlberg mystery)
Page 20
“So Fru Haugen. . please tell me. . why did Karl switch his science exhibit from icebergs to red-eye tree frogs?”
Silence. He was impressed by her cunning intelligence. She had walked away from the fourth trap as quickly and cleverly as she had walked away from all his other traps. Sohlberg felt embarrassed at how easily she was defeating him. He decided to confront her with the evidence.
“Fru Haugen. . please read the timeline that Constable Wangelin is handing you. It details on a minute-by-minute basis your whereabouts that Friday June fourth. Take your time reading it. Let me know if anything is wrong with the information. If you don’t point out any errors then we will assume it’s correct.”
After ten minutes Agnes Haugen said, “It seems to be right.”
“Good. Now if you will please look at the time when you say you left Karl at the school. You say you left him and the school at about nine in the morning. . right?”
“Ja.”
“Then you drove around looking to buy medicines for your sick baby.”
“Ja.”
“After driving around and stopping at two stores you then drove back home.”
“Ja.”
“That’s when you posted Karl’s science fair pictures on Facebook.”
“Ja.”
“Then you picked up your sick baby and went with the sick baby to the gym from eleven-twenty to twelve-twenty.”
“Ja.”
“All this in your husband’s white pickup truck?’
“Ja.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
Sohlberg again found himself almost smiling at the stepmother’s crafty evasions. “Fru Haugen. . why did you drive your husband’s pickup when you have your own car. . the red Audi sports car?”
“I don’t know. . I guess I like the pickup more for driving the baby around town.”
“Even though the baby was sick?”
“I wanted to give my husband a break. . he needed some time to do work from home on the computer. So I took the baby with me to the gym.”
“Was that his idea?” said Sohlberg who again offered her the door to start incriminating her husband.
“I. . I guess so.”
She had opened the door. He wondered if she’d step in all the way through the proffered door. Sohlberg said almost causally:
“Was it his idea to not go into work that day. . and stay at home?”
“I’m not his boss. He does whatever he wants when it comes to his work at Nokia.”
“Speaking of his work at Nokia. . I noticed that he travels quite a bit for them all over Europe and the United States.”
“Ja.”
“On one of those trips. . a month before Karl disappeared. . you took a call on your cell phone at a farm that belonged to your husband’s grandfather.”
Her eyes glazed over. He had finally caught her off balance. He could see her thinking and trying to stay one step ahead of him. She lapsed into silence.
“Ja Fru Haugen. We know all about that call. . a call that you did not answer but that your cell phone picked up when you were at the farm.”
“I lend my phone out quite a lot.”
“Oh really?. . Who got your loaner cell phone on May third of last year?”
“I don’t remember. . I might have lent the phone to my husband’s brother.”
Sohlberg almost nodded but not in agreement but rather in amazement at how subtle she was in now trying to drag in her husband’s brother into the short list of suspects.
“Your husband’s brother?”
“Ja.”
“The one who got arrested for molesting a teenage girl?”
“Ja. That one.”
“The one who said his grandfather raped him and your husband in the barn?”
“Ja.”
“But why would you lend him your phone when he has no real relationship with you. . I understand he’s only met you once or twice during the past five years.”
“Gunnar’s family are leeches. . they want our money. . they smooch off of us all the time.”
“You mean his family wants his money. . don’t you?”
“Well yes. I’m on unemployment.”
“Let’s see if I got this right. . are you telling me that you lent your cell phone to your husband’s brother?”
“Ja. I must have.”
“And you’re telling me that your brother-in-law was at his grandfather’s farm when he got a call from one of your friends?”
“Ja. He must have.”
“That’s going to be rather difficult because your husband’s brother was down in Copenhagen that week with his girlfriend and her family.”
“He could’ve lent my phone to someone else.”
“Like who?”
“I don’t know. Ask my brother-in-law. Who knows what shady characters he lent my phone to. . ”
“We have. He’s never borrowed or used your phone or your husband’s.”
“Then I don’t know what to tell you.”
“How about the truth?”
“I’ve told you the truth.”
“So you say. Tell me Fru Haugen. . how is it that the neighbors happened to have seen your car in the farm on the day that your cell phone received that call?”
“My car?”
Agnes Haugen looked slightly confused.
Had she forgotten whose car she had driven up to the Haugen farm to plant the lunch box in the barn? Or was she merely pretending to be confused so as to force Sohlberg into revealing exactly which car the neighbors had seen at the Haugen farm?
“Yes. Your car.”
“I don’t think so Detective. Not my car.”
“Oh. . did you think Fru Haugen that I was referring to your red Audi sports car?. . No. I was referring to your husband’s white pickup. . which you drove to Grindbakken Skole. . Pilot Hill elementary school. . with Karl the day that he disappeared.”
“I rarely drive that car.”
“The neighbors at the farm saw you. . a redhead with long hair. . driving your husband’s white pickup truck.”
“My husband must have taken another woman up there with him.”
“I doubt it.”
“He’s no saint.”
“Are you Fru Haugen?”
“What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m letting you know the facts. . the evidence. . you drove the white pickup truck to the farm.”
“Have you considered my husband?”
“Ja. . but he was traveling with another Nokia executive in rather distant locations. Now I’d like you to tell me why someone other than you would take your cell phone up to a farm owned by your husband’s grandfather?”
“I don’t know. . ”
“Did you know Fru Haugen that several neighbors also remember seeing your red Audi sports car up there several times in the months of April and May of last year?”
“I lend my car out quite a lot.”
“Who got your loaner car on May third of last year?”
“I don’t remember. . like I said. . I lend my car a lot.”
Constable Wangelin threw Sohlberg a look that said, “You see! I told you that the Haugens make the unnatural seem normal.”
“Fru Haugen. . why would someone take your car up to a farm owned by your husband’s grandfather?”
“I don’t know. . ”
Sohlberg leaned forward as if he was actually throwing her such a difficult curve ball that she would not be able to return his volley. He said:
“How did your stepson’s lunch box wind up buried in the farm that once belonged to your husband’s grandfather?”
Sohlberg would later write down in his final report to the prosecutor that a smile briefly crossed Agnes Haugen’s face when he told her about the lunch box. During the interview however Sohlberg was not sure if she had indeed smiled.
After a long pause Agnes Haugen said:
“That’s a good question.”
“Fru Haugen. . why is it a good question?”
Another long pause. “Because the farm is where my husband and his brother were raped by their grandfather.”
Sohlberg let out a short and silent sigh. She had finally opened and walked through the door to incriminate her husband. “So you think that is linked to your stepson’s disappearance?”
“You could say so.”
He admired her sly response. He offered her another door to further implicate her husband. “Actually. . Fru Haugen. . he was not their real grandfather. . right?”
“Ja.”
“Your husband and his brother were adopted. . were they not. . after being abandoned by their birth parents?”
“Ja.”
“Abandoned. . thrown away like garbage by the birth parents. . and then abandoned a second time by their adoptive parents. . who left them in the hands of the predator grandfather. Abandonment. . that’s life for the adopted.”
“Ja. . I know it first-hand because I too was adopted.”
“So. . Fru Haugen. . do you think that your husband or his brother or both of them took and killed your stepson Karl because your husband or his brother were abandoned and molested?”
“You could say that. I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I. . I’m not qualified. . am I?. . I’m not a detective. I’m not a shrink. I studied to be a teacher. . not a psychologist or a psychiatrist. . or a detective like you.”
Sohlberg’s had never felt as frustrated by a suspect’s answers. It was time to throw her another curve ball to keep her off balance. He shrugged and said:
“Ja. . Fru Haugen. . you are not trained as a psychologist. . psychiatrist. . or detective. But you are trained as a teacher. Is that why you taught Karl Haugen sign language?”
For the second time Sohlberg saw a dark and sharp look of worry or anger cross the soft almost chubby peaches-and-cream complected face of Agnes Haugen.
Her silence triggered another Sohlberg inquiry. “Fru Haugen. . why did you teach sign language to a boy who was not deaf or hearing impaired?”
“My husband and I thought it would be a good learning experience that would prepare Karl for school. . and increase his learning capacity. Some parents have their children learn music at an early age for the same reasons. We just happened to pick sign language.”
Sohlberg had finally caught her in a lie. Gunnar Haugen and everyone else had e-mails and other documents showing that Agnes Haugen was the only person who had decided to teach sign language to Karl. The lie would be useful in a prosecution. Therefore Sohlberg did not ask the follow-up question that he desperately wanted to ask Agnes Haugen as to whether she had in fact taught sign language to her stepson so that they could communicate in secret without anyone else knowing what she was telling the boy.
Sohlberg stared at Agnes Haugen. He switched his line of questioning back to the timeline to keep her off balance. “Fru Haugen. . let’s go back to the timeline for your whereabouts on June fourth. . Exactly where did you go from twelve-twenty when you left the gym to two o’clock when your husband saw you in the house after he came back from buying his lunch?”
“From twelve-twenty to two o’clock?. . I’m sure that I was driving around. . trying to get my baby to sleep.”
The clever evasion irked Sohlberg. “You’re sure you were driving around?. . I need you to be more than sure.”
“That’s the best I can do.”
The double meaning was not lost on Sohlberg who frowned and said:
“Fru Haugen. . where did you drive around?”
“I don’t remember. It was all a blur that day. I just drove around to calm down my baby daughter.”
“Your husband says that he’s never ever seen you driving around to calm the baby or get the baby to sleep.”
“He doesn’t know much. . he’s too busy. . too wrapped up in his work to notice these things at home. He manages a large department at Nokia. . By the way. . have you asked my husband where he was at that time?”
“We have. . it turns out that several closed circuit cameras caught him not just buying his lunch that day but also driving to and from the store.”
“I’m sure Detective that you will find plenty of video evidence that will show exactly where I was during those one-and-a-half hours if you work hard at it. . and treat me just like my husband.”
“Rest assured I will. . but first you must tell me where you went around driving. . did you go to downtown Oslo?. . Or downtown Lillehammer?. . Did you drive in the city or a small town. . or into a rural area. . maybe Lake Bogstad?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Maybe you drove north to Trondheim?”
“I don’t know.”
“Or down south towards Copenhagen?”
“I don’t know.”
“Or did you drive out to Stockholm?”
“I don’t know.”
“Alright. But don’t say that I didn’t try to help you Fru Haugen.”
“How?. . How would you help me?”
“I gave you a chance. . to give me the information that would send your husband to prison. But you decided to play coy with me. You thought I’d come running after your lies and half-truths if you dangled some small piece of information in front of me. Big mistake.”
“Big nothing. . I saw that you Mister Big Detective had already made up your mind. There was nothing I could say. I know your type. You’re the kind of man that makes people lie. . you ask questions that you know will get lies for answers.”
“You should’ve tried telling the truth for once Fru Haugen.”
“I know men like you. . you manipulate women with your questions. . your innuendos.”
“You have anything else to say?”
“No. Not to you. Ever.”
“Fine. Stand up Fru Haugen. You are under arrest. Constable Wangelin. . please handcuff her.”
Three hours later at 12 Hammersborggata Chief Inspector Sohlberg and Constable Wangelin sat down in an interview room with a much more subdued Agnes Haugen.
Like most middle class suspects Agnes Haugen had been humbled if not humiliated by the fingerprinting and the mug shots and the obligatory strip search and the regulation jumpsuit. At Sohlberg’s instructions the guards kept him informed of all of the abuse and insults and taunts and threats of hardened ex-con female prisoners who wanted a piece of the woman arrested for kidnaping the little boy Karl Haugen.
Sohlberg studied Agnes Haugen as gently and carefully as a man inspects a rattlesnake at close range.
“What do you want?” said Agnes Haugen with contempt. “I told you Mister Detective that I would never tell you anything about the case. Never. I want my lawyer.”
“Fru Haugen. . I’m not here to ask you questions or listen to you. You are here to listen and listen good to what I’m going to say.”
“I want my lawyer.”
“He’s on his way. But first you will hear me out.”
Agnes Haugen crossed her arms and hummed a ditty.
“Fru Haugen. . you made several mistakes. . mistakes that will defeat your ultimate plan of framing your husband for your criminal acts. . which include the kidnaping and murder of Karl Haugen.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Maybe. But you brilliantly planned the kidnaping and murder of that innocent little boy months if not years in advance. Your problem was choosing the wrong accomplice.”
Chapter 15
INTERROGATION OF OLAV TVIET AND
INTERROGATION OF DANICA KNUTSEN,
AFTERNOON OF 1 YEAR AND 28 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY, FRIDAY, JUNE 4
Everyone on the top floor of 12 Hammersborggata felt the frenzied activity th
at was typical of a major case drawing to a close. Sohlberg sent out five teams of two detectives each to gather evidence at the Haugen residence and the school and the condominium of Danica Knutsen. A harried and exhausted Wangelin coordinated the incoming and outgoing telephone calls and text messages. A secretary ordered sandwiches and beer.
“Ah. . perfect,” said Sohlberg as he picked up four egg salad sandwiches from a tray of gargantuan open-faced sandwiches that older Norwegians favor. “I miss these sandwiches. I can’t think of many other countries where they make open-faced sandwiches. Aren’t you having any?”
Wangelin smiled and shook her head. “I’m having a salad.”
Sohlberg felt old and old-fashioned upon realizing that Wangelin and the younger detectives had ordered salad bowls from a nearby health food store. “Ja. I should’ve had a salad like you.”
Sohlberg and Wangelin ate together in silence in his cubicle office. He devoured his four sandwiches in less than 10 minutes but he did not touch the beer.
Wangelin twice started to say something but she immediately stopped herself. Sohlberg felt that she wanted to ask him why he never drank any alcohol which state of affairs was an oddity for a senior detective. Or perhaps she wanted to warn him of the increased risk of heart attack from his four egg salad sandwiches. Either way Sohlberg felt more than ever like the proverbial odd fish out of water in his own country. He looked forward to returning to America with Fru Sohlberg.
A few minutes after two o’clock Sohlberg and Wangelin took the elevator down to the third floor to interview 43-year-old Olav Tveit. The man had called headquarters the day before and insisted on speaking with the detective in charge of the Karl Haugen case.
Unlike other detectives who ignored or turned away potential witnesses Sohlberg was always accessible to talk with anyone who wanted to discuss a case with him. Of course this led to many bizarre interviews with unhinged citizens who claimed to be psychics or that aliens from outer space had committed certain crimes. Sohlberg had nevertheless gleaned many valuable tips and evidence from walk-in interviews.
The modestly dressed man shambled into the room with a defeated and sad air. He reminded Sohlberg of drastically diminished men who retain the smidgen of dignity that is just enough to avoid suicide or a murderous rampage. Wangelin made the obligatory introductions and legal statements after turning on the video and microphones.