On this Sunday, however, it was only in the shop manager’s office that the light was on and the door was open.
Kristian Lund stood waiting with his hand held out over the desk. I struggled to recognize him at first. Secure in his own work environment and with the murder now a few days past, he suddenly gave the impression of being a well-built, relaxed and solid man I could trust. Had it not been for the fact that I had met him before – and had he not been caught in the act of lying.
Kristian Lund held his mask well while his irritatingly nice secretary was in the room. She asked whether I would like a coffee or a tea and smiled so invitingly that I almost said yes. Kristian Lund then informed his secretary in a loud, clear voice that this was simply a matter of routine questions in connection with the murder of his neighbour and asked her to close the door behind her and carry on with the stocktake. She chirped ‘of course’ and flew out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.
As soon as we were alone, Kristian Lund changed character. His eyes became sharper and his movements more tense. This reinforced my impression that he was quite the human chameleon, with a talent for changing his appearance according to the circumstances.
Neither of us wanted to start the conversation, so we each sat there contemplating the other for a couple of minutes. Kristian Lund fished out a cigarette and lit it. It was like a fencing duel in which neither of us wanted to make the first advance, though one of us would have to eventually.
‘So, how can I help you today?’ he asked, in the end.
I instantly took the opportunity to launch a frontal attack. ‘First of all, I would like to know why you lied about your mother when we last spoke.’
A twitch rippled across Kristian Lund’s face. Then he shook his head a couple of times.
‘Hmm, lied… Well, perhaps I didn’t tell you all that I should have done. I realized that afterwards, that I should have mentioned that she was a member of the NS and was sentenced for treason after the war. A good detective such as yourself would of course find that out. But I didn’t think that my mother’s views during the war had anything to do with the murder case, which seemed complicated enough as it was. And what is more, I am fed up with the fact that I, even after my mother’s death, have to answer for things she did in her youth. I have tried to separate my life from it, and that has not always been easy!’
Suddenly, there was a trace of the same bitterness in Kristian Lund’s voice that I had heard in Konrad Jensen’s.