Dregs (25 page)

‘The deceased has not been identified, but the police have reason to believe that we are talking about 78-year-old Sverre Lund, who was reported missing from his place of residence in the centre of Stavern on the 8th September last year,’ Vetti read out, using Wisting’s wording.

Wisting scanned the people in attendance while Vetti continued to talk. He let his eye rest for a moment on one of the cameras with its red light, and thought about Suzanne whom he knew would be watching.

‘Evidence from the corpse gives us grounds to believe that we are dealing with a criminal act,’ Vetti went on in formal terms. ‘The cause of death appears to be an inflicted gunshot wound.’

They had agreed to be open about the probable cause of death, although it had not been confirmed. The choice of words
inflicted gunshot wound
revealed that the police had excluded suicide, at the same time as withholding details. Wisting felt he could discern a mixed reaction amongst the journalists. Some seemed grateful for the comprehensive information, whereas a couple in the first row seemed disappointed, as though they already knew the details and had prepared an exclusive presentation. It was probably only a question of time before the headlines were stating openly that the victim had been shot in the head.

Vetti took a sip from a glass of water before continuing.

‘One of the central points in our investigations concerns a series of large amounts that were deposited and then withdrawn from the bank account of the deceased a short time before he went missing.’ He went on to give a further explanation of the transactions in the accounts belonging to Sverre Lund and the other men.

‘Questions?’ he invited.

Hands shot up.

‘Have you found the murder weapon?’

Vetti passed the question over to Wisting with a glance. It was a manouevre that could suggest that there might be something behind the question. Wisting hesitated long enough for the most experienced journalists to be aware. The question was key, but nevertheless came as a surprise. It was unquestionably information that they would prefer to keep to themselves. A denial might nevertheless be regarded as a lie.

‘We don’t know what type of gun we might be dealing with,’ Wisting explained, evading the question.

He feared follow-up questions, but another journalist started speaking and turned the direction: ‘Do you believe that all of the missing men have been murdered?’

‘We have, among other things, been working from a theory that there is a connection among the missing men,’ Wisting replied. ‘Today’s development opens the possibility that we may be faced with several murders.’

There was a brisk round of questions concerning the theory of a serial killer. The journalists surpassed one another in their attempts to find smart wording for their questions. Wisting responded by saying that they were keeping all options open.

‘What about the two missing women?’ asked one of the journalists from the front row. ‘Might they have been murdered too?’

Wisting took a little time before giving an answer. The press had apparently found the connection between Camilla Thaulow, Hanne Richter and the three men who were missing. He summarised the connection and stated that, although the link was less definite, it was a possibility that they must also keep open.

‘What about the underwater search that’s taking place?’ another journalist wanted to know. ‘Has that brought any results?’

Wisting pretended to look for the face of the person who had asked the question while he searched for an answer that neither disclosed anything about the discovery of the weapon, nor said anything that could cause him to be accused later of lying.

‘There haven’t been any finds that we can link directly to the case,’ he replied, fixing his gaze on the man, whom he recognised as a reporter for
Aftenposten
.

‘What have you found?’

‘For the most part, different kinds of rubbish. There may be instances of breaching the laws on pollution. We have also found the wreck of a boat that was reported stolen last summer and are going to be following up the connection with a possible insurance fraud.’

‘Is it possible to release some of the underwater images?’

‘That can be arranged, but I don’t know if it’s something we can make a priority.’

A red-haired, female reporter by the window spoke up, introducing herself as a representative of NTB, Norway’s largest news agency. Wisting didn’t catch her name.

‘Where did the money come from?’ she enquired.

‘We have a main focus on that,’ Wisting replied. ‘But for the moment, we do not know.’

‘Could it be the proceeds from a criminal act?’

‘As I said, we don’t know.’

The female journalist was about the same age as Line. She made a face that Wisting interpreted to mean she did not like the way he had warded off her question.

‘How long have you known about the financial evidence?’ she asked.

‘It was discovered at the weekend.’

‘Do you mean to say that there were considerable financial movements in the accounts of the missing persons without the police checking this out earlier? That sort of information must have been accessible through bank statements and so on, surely?’

Wisting closed his eyes for a short spell and put on a patient expression. It was always like this. The first questions were fairly respectful, but eventually the tone became sharper and more aggressive. He was prepared for the question and explained how the investigators had monitored the bank accounts of the missing persons as a matter of routine, but that the history had not been examined until now.

The journalist did not let go: ‘Should you not have done that earlier?’

‘It is easy to come to that conclusion with the benefit of hindsight.’

‘So you admit that you’ve made a mistake, then?

Wisting realised that he was being backed into a corner and concentrated on not sounding irritated.

‘We regard the discovery as a major step forward.’

‘But in reality you don’t have any clues?’

The journalist tried her best to put words in his mouth. He heard Audun Vetti, in the seat beside him, clear his throat as a sign that they should finish up.

‘I’d prefer to say that we are facing one of the most challenging cases we have ever worked on,’ Wisting said, giving the woman a smile.

The redhead did not seem satisfied with his answer, but gave him a nod and said no more.

Individual journalists had new questions, but finally they seemed most eager to contact their editors, and Vetti declared the meeting closed. Wisting got up, leaving individual interviews to the Assistant Chief of Police.

CHAPTER 47

It took exactly twenty-three minutes for the first interesting phone call to arrive. Wisting stood by the window, having hung his uniform back in the cupboard, his thoughts tossing like a sailing boat suddenly struck by squalls.

He answered brusquely, and stood listening to the man at the other end. His brow furrowed. What he heard confused him further, but it was something he wanted to know more about. They made an appointment and, thirty-two minutes later, the man was sitting in the visitor’s chair in Wisting’s office.

Karl Edvin Malmstrom was in his mid-forties, tall and thin, his ash blond, slightly wavy hair combed forward. He wore sandals, khaki trousers and a white, short-sleeved shirt.

‘We’re staying in a caravan at Gon,’ he explained. ‘We’ve done that every summer for the past fifteen years.’

Wisting nodded. The man was one of many who spent their holidays in the area. He worked as an adviser and customer service assistant at
Bien
savings bank in the centre of Oslo.

‘I remember both of them, as I said,’ he went on, stroking the armrest of the chair with his hand. ‘Both Otto Saga and Sverre Lund. It might be that Torkel Lauritzen came to us as well, but was served by another adviser.’

Wisting stopped him and phoned for Nils Hammer. He was the one with responsibility for the money trail, and he wanted him present.

‘I’d thought about making contact earlier,’ Karl Edvin Malmstrom continued while they waited for the other investigator. ‘I recognised them from pictures in the newspapers, but it was only when I heard you talking about the other transactions that I realised it could be important.’

Hammer appeared before half a minute had passed. He closed the door behind him, said hello to the bank assistant and sat down on the spare visitor’s chair.

Wisting gave a quick explanation of the purpose of the interview, and then asked Karl Edvin Malmstrom to continue.

The bank assistant took a sheet of paper from his shirt pocket and unfolded it.

‘Sverre Lund visited us on Wednesday 3rd September at 11.33,’ he explained. ‘I got a work colleague to check it before I came here. The exact amount was 345,000 kroner. Otto Saga came in on Friday 29th August at 12.42. He made a deposit of 340,000 kroner.’

Nils Hammer nodded. It agreed with the survey he had carried out.

“There’s a deposit in your bank for Torkel Lauritzen’s account also,’ he added. ‘On Wednesday 27th August.’

‘Every second Wednesday I have a study day.’ The bank assistant folded up the sheet of paper again. ‘It must have been another adviser who dealt with it. I can find out who it was.’

‘So it was they themselves who deposited the money then?’ Wisting wanted to confirm.

‘It’s not anything unusual,’ Karl Edvin Malmstrom felt. ‘Most cash deposits over the counter are to people’s own accounts.’

‘But it’s unusual that old people travel miles to do that, just to take the money out again a few days later.’

‘It was a question of discontinued banknotes, as I recall. That could be the explanation.’

‘Discontinued?’

‘I think that both of them had about 150,000 of the old Camilla Collett notes. In a few days’ time, they wouldn’t have been able to exchange them.’

Wisting sensed that some kind of understanding was on its way, something that would seem logical and give meaning to the whole thing, but he couldn’t quite manage to put it into words.

‘On the 5th September the old hundred-kroner notes with the portrait of Camilla Collett became invalid,’ the bank assistant explained. ‘She was replaced by Kirsten Flagstad in 1997. You could use the old banknote for one year longer, but after that it had to be exchanged in the bank. After ten years it would become invalid. We had lots of deposits like that around that time. There was a lot of discussion about it in the media. We had many pensioners and others who emptied their mattresses and came to us with their savings, but not with as much money as Sverre Lund or Otto Saga.’

‘Do you mean that the money would have been worthless if they had come a few days’ later?’

‘Not necessarily. They could have applied to have them exchanged, but then they would have had to bring them personally to
Norges Bank
in Oslo, accompanied by a written declaration of where they came from and why the money had not been changed previously.’

‘Old men with old money,’ Wisting said to no one in particular.

‘Were there only out of date banknotes?’ Nils Hammer asked.

The bank assistant nodded.

‘It included two bundles of the old thousand-kroner note with Christian Magnus Falsen, that were still wrapped in
Norges Bank
tape. It looked as though they had never been in circulation.’

Wisting tried to envision the old thousand-kroner banknote with the portrait of the Father of the Norwegian Constitution, but could not remember what it looked like.

‘When does that become completely invalid?’ he enquired.

‘The thousand-kroner note goes out of date in 2012,’ the man facing him explained. ‘The 500-kroner note with the portrait of Edvard Grieg becomes invalid in 2011, the 50-kroner note with Aasmund Olavsson Vinje went out of date in January last year. I think I read somewhere that there’s still a million of them in circulation.’

‘What about the 200-kroner note?’

‘That entered the series of notes in 1994 and has not been discontinued yet, but a new, more secure version was introduced in 2002, with a broad metal strip at the side of the portrait. I don’t think there are any plans to discontinue that one.’

‘Did they say anything about where the money came from?’ Wisting asked.

The man thought carefully.

‘Not directly. It was more a suggestion.’

‘What was the suggestion?’

‘That it was savings. Sverre Lund said he should have come long before. That it was safer to have the money in the bank, and the kind of things that old people say when they decide to come to us with their money. His hearing was bad, so it was difficult to have a proper conversation. The same applied to Otto Saga. Hearing is one of the first things to go in old people.’

Wisting and Hammer glanced at each other. It was the same excuse they had used when the money was withdrawn.

‘Can you remember anything else?’

‘One of them talked about the tax authorities and inheritance tax, but I didn’t understand the connection. At least, I don’t remember it now. Normally I would have asked where the money came from and made a note about it for the person responsible for money laundering at the bank, but it wasn’t done. It was obvious that we were talking about old savings, of course. Moreover, he wasn’t one of our customers.’

‘Did you ask about it? Why he came to you and not to his own bank?’

‘No. We’re a small, independent savings bank offering personal service in the middle of Oslo city centre. A lot of people make use of us without being account holders.’

‘Did they come on their own?’

‘I can’t say that I noticed anything else. We try to be vigilant when old people come in to take out a lot of money, but in this case we were talking about a deposit.’

‘Can you remember what they brought the money in?’

‘Envelopes. Sverre Lund had them in a little rucksack, but Otto Saga I think just came into the bank with the envelope in his hand.’

‘Where is the money now?’

Karl Edvin Malmstrom seemed perplexed.

‘You explained at the press conference, didn’t you, that it was taken out of their accounts again a few days’ later?’