Outrage (27 page)

‘Is she all right?’

‘She’s all right. For now.’

‘What do you mean,
for now
?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s no picnic for her, being held in custody, of course.’

A little while later Konrad gave up all resistance. He was being questioned about how he got into the house. The questions were repeated over and over again until he put his foot down. Elinborg pictured him in the interview room, straightening up where he sat and sighing heavily: ‘I can’t go on like this. I don’t know how I thought I could get away with it. I should have contacted you at once, after I cut him. Then Nina wouldn’t have had to go through all this, for nothing. It was a stupid mistake but I maintain I did it in self-defence.’

‘Are you …?’

‘I killed him. Now leave Nina alone. It was me. I’m just sorry I dragged her into my lies. It was my fault. All my fault. When I saw the state Nina was in, and what had been done to her, I was overcome with rage. She had rung me, told me where she was, where the man lived. I received that horrific call for help from her and hurried over. Nina had managed to open the door for me. I went inside and the first thing I saw was the knife on the table. I thought he’d threatened Nina with it. I didn’t understand the situation. Nina was sitting on the floor, with a half-naked man standing over her. I’d never seen him before. I thought he was going to harm my daughter so I grabbed the knife and cut his throat. He never saw me. I picked up what I could find of her clothes and then took her out, through the garden, down to the next street and to the car. I stopped the car on the way home to throw the knife in the sea. I don’t remember exactly where. That’s what happened. That’s the truth.’

The police had interviewed Konrad’s wife that morning. If his confession was to be relied upon, she was an accessory. She confirmed that he had returned to the car with their daughter, but claimed not to remember Konrad pulling over to dispose of the murder weapon. She, like her husband and daughter, had been in a state of shock so she was not sure whether she had the correct order of events, or even if she remembered everything that had happened. It did not seem necessary at this point to take her into custody.

The plane hit a patch of turbulence and Elinborg gasped as it plunged and juddered. She grasped the armrests and her papers slithered to the floor. The commotion continued for several minutes. Once everything was back to normal, the captain addressed the passengers, explained about the turbulence, and requested them to stay seated with their seat belts fastened. Elinborg picked up her papers and rearranged them in the correct order in the file. She did not like these tinny propeller planes.

She returned to her reading. Konrad was questioned about various details and gave clear answers. But he could not answer the question that interested Elinborg most: what about the Rohypnol found in Runolfur’s body? Konrad had not forced him to swallow it, and Nina had almost no memory of events.

The plane was making its descent towards the runway. A light layer of snow still lay on the ground, contrasting with the muted hues of the landscape. Elinborg knew that two police officers were waiting for her at the little airport as before, to take her to Runolfur’s home village. She thought back to her kitchen at home, and Teddi’s bewildered expression when she had been struggling to understand the connection between what Konrad had said and the oily odour in the hall from Teddi’s jacket.

‘What? What about paraffin?’ Teddi had asked.

‘Konrad said Runolfur had been burning something,’ said Elinborg. ‘But he hadn’t burned anything. It wasn’t paraffin that Konrad smelt.’

‘What does that matter?’ asked Teddi.

‘Soon after we traced him, Konrad told me that he’d smelt paraffin in Runolfur’s flat. We didn’t find any paraffin - and Konrad’s description was a bit vague. At least, I think it was. I believe he smelt something like this. Maybe that’s enough - after all, if you leave your jacket in the hall the smell soon gets into everything.’

‘And?’ asked Teddi.

‘It’s an absolutely vital clue,’ answered Elinborg, and fetched her mobile to ring Sigurdur Oli back.

‘The confession’s rubbish,’ she said.

‘Oh?’

‘Konrad thinks he’s doing the right thing, taking the fall for his daughter. But I don’t believe they had anything to do with Runolfur’s death.’

‘What are you on about? If it wasn’t them, who was it?’

‘I’ve got to look into it a bit further,’ said Elinborg. ‘I’ll have to see Konrad tomorrow. I’m sure he’s lying.’

‘Please don’t start stirring things up,’ pleaded Sigurdur Oli. ‘I’ve just congratulated you on solving the case.’

‘That was a bit premature. Sorry.’ She switched her phone off, and turned to Teddi. ‘Can I borrow your jacket tomorrow?’

Early the next morning she had sat down with Konrad in the interview room. He said he had not slept much. He looked exhausted, dishevelled and nervous. He hardly answered Elinborg’s greeting. As usual, he asked after Nina. Elinborg replied that she was much the same.

‘I think you’re lying to us,’ said Elinborg. ‘You were telling the truth all along and we didn’t believe you. The same applies to your daughter. We didn’t believe her, either. So you decided to take the blame. You’d rather go to prison than see her locked up. You’re middle-aged but she’s still young, with her life ahead of her. But there are two problems with your confession, which I don’t think you’ve given enough thought to. She’s never going to go along with your version of events. In addition, you’re lying.’

‘What would you know about it?’

‘I know,’ said Elinborg.

‘You’re determined not to believe a word I say.’

‘Oh, I do - some of it. Most of it, actually, up to the point when you say you went for Runolfur.’

‘Nina didn’t do it.’

‘I don’t know if you remember, but you told me you’d smelt something like paraffin when you got to Runolfur’s flat. You thought he’d been burning something. Was there a smell of burning as well?’

‘No, there was no smell of burning.’

‘So you just smelt the oily smell?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know what paraffin smells like?’

‘Not particularly. It just seemed sort of oily.’

‘Was it a strong odour?’

‘No, it wasn’t. More like a background scent in the air.’

Elinborg picked up a plastic bag and took out the jacket that Teddi had been wearing the day before. She placed it on the table.

‘I’ve never seen that jacket before,’ said Konrad, unprompted, as if to avoid any more trouble.

‘I know,’ said Elinborg. ‘Please don’t come any closer, and don’t sniff it from close up. Can you smell it?’

‘No.’

Elinborg took the jacket, shook it vigorously, then folded it back into the bag. She stood up and put the bag out in the corridor. She sat down facing Konrad. ‘I know this isn’t very scientific, but can you smell anything now?’

‘Yes,’ replied Konrad. ‘I smell it now.’

‘Is that what you thought was paraffin, in Runolfur’s flat?’

Konrad took two deep breaths. ‘Yes! That’s just the same as in Runolfur’s flat when I arrived,’ he said. ‘Perhaps a little bit fainter.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. That’s it exactly. What jacket is that? Whose is it?’

‘It’s my husband’s,’ said Elinborg. ‘He’s a motor mechanic, and co-owner of a garage. His jacket hangs all day in his office at the garage, so it absorbs the smell of lubricants. Every car workshop in the country smells the same. It clings - and it’s hard to get rid of.’

‘Lubricants?’

‘Yes. Lubricants.’

‘So? What about it?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not sure what it means, but please don’t go making any more confessions until we’ve spoken again.’

Elinborg was jolted abruptly back to the present as the plane made a jarring touchdown.

29

At the guest house in the village, Elinborg was given the same room. She took her time settling in. Night was falling and she was in no hurry. On the way from the airport she had rung Sigurdur Oli in Reykjavik and others involved in the investigation to try to gather more information on Runolfur’s family: his mother; his father, who had gone smiling to his death; Runolfur’s friends in the village, and their families. Her enquiries had not yielded much - not surprisingly, as it was all so last-minute. If her hunch was correct she would learn more in the next few days.

Her hostess recognised her at once. She was surprised to see her back in the village and made no attempt to conceal her curiosity: ‘Is there something special that’s brought you back so soon?’ she asked as she showed Elinborg to her room. ‘I don’t suppose this is just a social visit, is it?’

‘I seem to remember someone said nothing ever happens here,’ said Elinborg.

‘Yes, that’s true. Not much going on,’ replied the woman.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Elinborg. She went to the village’s only restaurant, took a seat, and ordered the fish again. On this occasion she was the only customer. The ubiquitous Lauga took her order without a word and disappeared into the kitchen. Either she did not remember Elinborg or could not be bothered to make conversation. She had been more talkative on Elinborg’s previous visit. Before long she reappeared and placed the plate of fish on the table.

‘Thank you,’ said Elinborg. ‘I don’t know if you remember me. I was here a few days ago. The fish was excellent.’

‘I always use fresh fish,’ said Lauga. She gave no indication of whether she remembered Elinborg. ‘Thank you.’ She was about to return to the kitchen, but Elinborg stopped her.

‘Last time I was here I met a girl who was looking at the videos over there in the window,’ she said, pointing at the niche by the door. ‘Where do you think I might find her?’

‘There are still a few girls left in the village,’ said Lauga. ‘But I don’t know who you mean.’

‘She was about twenty, I should think, with blonde hair, and a narrow face - quite pretty, slender, wearing a blue down parka. I imagine she comes here now and then. This is the only place in the village to rent videos, isn’t it?’

Lauga did not answer at once.

‘I’d appreciate it if you could—’ continued Elinborg.

But Lauga interrupted: ‘Do you know her name?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t know her,’ said Lauga, shrugging. ‘She may be from the next fjord.’

‘I just hoped you might be able to help me. Never mind,’ answered Elinborg, and started on her fish. It was every bit as delicious, fried exactly right, fresh, and perfectly seasoned. Lauga certainly knew how to cook. Elinborg thought that perhaps Lauga’s talents were wasted here, in the back of beyond. Silently, she apologised to the place. She knew she had a tendency to be prejudiced against life outside the city. She ought to be thinking that the villagers were lucky to have such an outstanding cook among them.

Elinborg ate at her leisure. For dessert she chose freshly baked chocolate cake, with a cup of good coffee.

Three youngsters in their early teens - two boys and a girl - came in to look at the videos. One of them switched on a large television above the counter and selected a sports channel. He set the volume far too high and Lauga came out and politely asked him to turn it down. He did so at once.

‘Tell your mum I can cut her hair tomorrow afternoon,’ she said to the other boy, who nodded. He looked over at Elinborg, who smiled at him but received no response. The girl sat down to watch the game and before long all three were glued to the screen. Elinborg smiled to herself. She debated whether to have a liqueur with her coffee and decided to indulge herself. She suspected that tomorrow was going to be a rough day.

Eventually Elinborg stood up and settled her bill at the bar. Lauga took her payment without speaking. Elinborg sensed that the youngsters were observing her every move. She thanked Lauga and called out a friendly goodnight to the kids. They made no reply beyond a nod from the girl.

Deep in thought, Elinborg walked back toward the guest house. As she was considering how to pursue her enquiries the following day she caught a glimpse of a young blonde woman in a blue down parka, hurrying along the pavement on the other side of the main street. Elinborg halted, uncertain whether it was the same girl. Concluding that it was, she called out to her. The girl slowed down and looked in Elinborg’s direction. ‘Hey!’ called Elinborg, and waved.

They stood on opposite sides of the road.

‘Don’t you remember me?’ Elinborg called out.

The girl stared at her.

‘I was just asking after you,’ said Elinborg, and stepped into the road.

The girl backed away, then strode on. Elinborg started to cross the road towards her but the girl broke into a run. Elinborg ran after her, calling out to her to stop, but she just ran even faster.

Elinborg, who was wearing flat shoes, did her best to keep up, but she was not as fit as the young woman and soon fell behind. Finally Elinborg slowed to her normal walking speed and watched her quarry disappear between two houses.

Elinborg turned around and walked back towards the guest house. This was incomprehensible. Why wouldn’t the girl speak to her now? She had wanted to help before. What was she running away from? And Elinborg was convinced that Lauga had known exactly who Elinborg had meant when she’d described her. There must be a reason why Lauga was unwilling to help. What were they concealing? Or was Elinborg being led astray by an over-active imagination? Perhaps the village itself was affecting her, dark and silent and isolated as it was.

She had her own keys to the front door of the guest house and to her room, so there was no need to disturb anyone there. She rang Teddi, who told her that all was quiet on the home front and asked, as usual, when she would be back. She told him she didn’t know. They said goodnight, and Elinborg settled down with a book about oriental cuisine and its connections with eastern philosophy.

She was dozing off over her book when she heard a quiet tap at the window. When the knocking was repeated more insistently, she jumped out of bed and went over to the window, cautiously pulled back the curtains, and peered out into the dark. Her room was on the ground floor at the rear of the building. Initially she could see nothing, but then she discerned someone standing out in the darkness. She was looking into the eyes of the girl in the blue parka.