Reykjavik Nights Page 17

  ‘What about the fire in Hannibal’s cellar? Were you aware of that?’

  ‘Certainly. Our understanding was that he’d started it himself.’

  ‘Or was it just that a bum like him didn’t matter as much as a woman like Oddný?’

  ‘What are you insinuating?’ Hrólfur was angry now. ‘We don’t make that kind of distinction. The point is that Oddný could have been alive. We didn’t know what had happened to her. There was a possibility we could still save her, so of course that took priority. The tramp fell in a pond and drowned. It was too late to help him. He was drunk. They found alcohol in his bloodstream. Why … what are you…? Did you by any chance know him?’

  ‘Sort of,’ said Erlendur. ‘I used to run into him on night duty. He was a good bloke. Had a miserable life.’

  ‘Yes, sleeping rough up at the pipeline, wasn’t he?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Anyway, was that all?’ Hrólfur tucked the papers under his arm. ‘I’m going to be late for a meeting.’

  ‘Yes. Thanks for your help.’

  Erlendur watched the detective hurry out of the room. He decided there was no particular urgency in reporting the discovery of the earring.

  38

  The man was busy in his garage when Erlendur arrived. The large door was drawn up and a new-looking car – a classy American model – was parked in the drive outside; its gleaming black paintwork was freshly polished. Inside the garage everything was neatly stowed away on shelves, in cupboards and in small boxes. The floor was so shiny you might have felt compelled to take off your shoes before entering. Gardening implements and other tools hung from nails on the walls, including two shovels, suspended by spotless blades.

  As the owner of the house did not immediately notice his presence, Erlendur remained outside, studying him. He was not unlike Ísidór in appearance: dark hair and complexion, slim, neat, some years older than Erlendur himself, wearing a checked shirt and jeans. He was putting away a rag and a can of polish in their appointed places, ensuring that everything was just so. From the damp ground outside, Erlendur guessed the man had washed his car before polishing the paintwork. The hose had been painstakingly rolled up. He evidently took as much care of his vehicle as he did his garage.

  The man was a manager at a large pension company. Erlendur had known he would have to speak to him eventually – there was no getting round it – but he had delayed the interview for as long as possible. He was nervous, unsure how to broach such a sensitive subject or predict how the man would react. One evening his wife had vanished into thin air, here in their home town, turning his whole life upside down; he had been a suspect ever since, and now Erlendur, a complete stranger, was about to stir it all up again.

  Erlendur vacillated until the man, glancing up from his task, caught sight of him. He came out of the garage and said good evening. Erlendur returned his greeting.

  ‘What … who … can I do something for you?’ asked the man after an awkward pause.

  ‘You’re Gústaf, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘My name’s Erlendur. I’m a policeman.’

  ‘A policeman?’

  ‘A traffic officer, actually. I was hoping for a word with you – about your wife Oddný.’

  ‘Oddný?’

  ‘I’m aware that –’

  ‘Why do you want to talk about Oddný?’ asked the man. ‘What concern is she of yours? Who did you say you were?’

  ‘The name’s Erlendur. I’ve been looking into your wife’s case in my own time, in connection with a man who died the same weekend she went missing.’

  ‘In your own time?’

  ‘Yes. In connection with this man I knew. On his sister’s behalf.’

  ‘Who was the man?’

  ‘His name was Hannibal. He was a tramp.’

  ‘A tramp? What … Sorry, but what are you talking about?’

  ‘He was living in the heating conduit to the south of Kringlumýri – not far from here. He drowned in one of the flooded workings, around the time your wife vanished. Maybe even exactly the same time.’

  The man stood in the doorway, gaping at Erlendur. All around him was order, the only rogue element this stranger who had crept up on him in the quiet of evening and embarked on some bizarre story about a tramp.

  ‘What’s that got to do with Oddný?’ Gústaf asked.

  ‘That’s what I wanted to ask you.’

  ‘Ask me? I don’t know any tramps. Nor do I know you, for that matter. You’re not here on official business?’

  Erlendur shook his head.

  ‘Then I have nothing to say to you.’ The man backed away into the garage.

  ‘There’s a chance that Hannibal and your wife ran into each other the night she disappeared,’ said Erlendur, ‘though I’ve no idea how or in what circumstances. I’m working on the assumption that your wife’s dead. I know Hannibal is. I want to find out what happened. Hannibal’s sister, Rebekka, wants some answers too.’

  ‘Look, you’d better leave,’ said Gústaf. ‘You’re talking to the wrong man. I can’t give you any answers. I’m not even sure what you’re talking about. I don’t know these people. Never heard of them.’

  ‘Fair enough. There’s no reason why you should have –’

  ‘And I don’t understand who you are, so this all seems highly irregular. Highly irregular. I’d be grateful if you’d leave me alone. I have nothing further to say to you.’

  ‘We don’t believe Hannibal did your wife any harm,’ said Erlendur. ‘He had…’

  He cast around for the right words.

  ‘Let’s just say there were things in his past that make it inconceivable that he could have hurt her. He had his problems, but he’d never have attacked your wife.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’m not interested,’ said Gústaf. ‘I’m asking you to leave me alone. I have nothing to say to you. Are you listening to me?’

  ‘The reason I’m telling you about Hannibal is because we believe that, at some point during the night she vanished, your wife may have been in the pipeline where he was camped.’

  By now the man had a remote control in his hand and raised it to close the garage door. He hesitated.

  ‘That’s why I think their paths may have crossed,’ Erlendur continued doggedly. ‘At the pipeline. But I’ve no idea what happened to your wife after that. Or to Hannibal, for that matter. I thought you might be able to help.’

  ‘Who is this Hannibal? I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of him.’

  ‘That’s hardly surprising. No one’s ever connected the two incidents before.’

  ‘This all sounds extremely far-fetched … Look, what did you say your name was?’

  ‘Erlendur.’

  ‘Right, Erlendur. Thank you for taking an interest in the case but I’d be grateful if you’d back off and stop interfering in matters that are absolutely none of your business.’

  The man pressed the remote control. Jerkily, with a motorised drone, the door began its descent, closing like a red wall in front of Erlendur’s face. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the earring.

  ‘Recognise this?’

  The man regarded it blankly.

  ‘Seen it before?’

  The door continued its descent and Erlendur tossed the earring underneath just before it closed with a slight clang. He regretted it immediately. He had thrown the earring out of desperation, but now he had lost his only piece of evidence. He no longer had any proof to connect Oddný with the pipeline apart from his own observations and the word of Thurí – a hopeless alcoholic.

  He stared at the garage door, his breath caught in his throat. He had no idea what to do. The seconds ticked by and he was on the verge of beating on the door when he heard the mechanism start up again and it began to open.

  The man had picked up the earring and was examining it with a grave expression.

  ‘Where on earth did you find this?’
He raised his eyes to Erlendur, unable to disguise his astonishment.

  39

  Gústaf’s house was as tidy as his garage, in marked contrast to the chaos that characterised Erlendur’s own home. Nothing was extraneous. Tasteful pieces of furniture were arranged just so, porcelain figurines faced into the sitting room at precisely the right angle, the pictures on the walls hung perfectly level, the immaculate pale blue carpet still bore the marks of a vacuum cleaner. There was a pleasant smell too, a fragrance that was unfamiliar to Erlendur and whose source he could not identify. No reek of old fat from the kitchen. He had automatically made to remove his shoes on entering but the man had said there was no need. Erlendur was not sure he really meant it.

  Having invited him to take a seat in the dining room, Gústaf drew up another chair facing him. He was still holding the earring, and Erlendur wondered how he was going to get it back. Gústaf’s manner had undergone a transformation; he was suddenly eager to cooperate, had invited Erlendur inside and was apparently prepared to talk. He said he couldn’t understand what had happened to his wife; her disappearance had left him a broken man. He had been attending a Lions Club meeting that evening.

  ‘I’ve been a member for several years.’

  ‘Was the earring Oddný’s?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Definitely?’

  ‘I bought it myself,’ said Gústaf. ‘From a jeweller here in Reykjavík. I haven’t…’

  Emotion threatened to choke him.

  ‘I haven’t seen it since she vanished. It was a bit … a bit of a shock, to be honest. I don’t quite know what to say, what to think.’ He stared at the piece of jewellery in his palm.

  Erlendur waited. He wanted to give the man time to recover his composure. He refrained from mentioning that he had already spoken to the jeweller, unsure how much he ought to reveal about his enquiries.

  After a decent interval, he asked if Gústaf could confirm that his wife had been wearing the earrings on the evening she disappeared.

  ‘Yes,’ Gústaf replied. ‘She was wearing them. I gave them to her once after we’d … when I was in a generous mood. She loved jewellery. This is hers. Definitely. But how did you … where did you find it? Are you trying to tell me that … you’ve found Oddný?’

  ‘No,’ said Erlendur emphatically. ‘Absolutely not. Only the earring. Actually it wasn’t me who found it but a woman called Thurí. She knew Hannibal, the man who was sleeping in the heating conduit in Kringlumýri. Not long after he drowned she went to his old camp and spotted the earring under one of the pipes. I got it from her.’

  ‘How did you know it was Oddný’s?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ said Erlendur, unwilling to go into too much detail. ‘It was just a hunch. Hannibal drowned the same weekend, not far from here, so it occurred to me to ask if you recognised the earring. I had a feeling there might be a link.’

  ‘Sorry, but I’m still not clear where you fit in. What’s your involvement?’

  ‘Like I said, I knew Hannibal. I wanted, if possible, to find out how he drowned. I’ve been in touch with his sister and she asked me to look into it. Then the earring turned up. And now I’m here. I’m sorry, I know this can’t be easy for you but I couldn’t think what else to do.’

  Gústaf couldn’t tear his gaze from the earring.

  ‘But how did it get there? How did it end up in the conduit?’

  ‘It’s possible Hannibal picked it up somewhere else,’ said Erlendur. ‘He was on the streets and had an eye for shiny objects, so he may well have spotted it on his travels and taken it back to his camp. We can’t rule that out.’

  Gústaf gave Erlendur a searching look.

  ‘But you think differently,’ he said at last.

  ‘It’s my belief that your wife was in the pipeline at some point,’ said Erlendur. ‘And conceivably died there.’

  Gústaf was still staring at him.

  ‘Have you found her?’ he asked in a low voice.

  ‘No.’ It was the second time the man had asked this, and Erlendur was keen to remove all doubt. ‘I haven’t found her,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ve searched inside the pipeline but she’s not there. It’s a complete mystery to me. All I can say is that I believe she was in the conduit at some point the evening or night she vanished.’

  ‘Was it this friend of yours, this Hannibal, who dragged her there?’ asked Gústaf. ‘Was he the one who attacked her? Is that what you’re hinting at?’

  ‘No, I very much doubt it,’ answered Erlendur. ‘In fact, I believe he suffered the same fate as your wife.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I believe he was a victim too.’

  ‘A victim?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Erlendur. ‘I’ve been over and over this and it’s the only plausible explanation I can come up with. I believe your wife was murdered and Hannibal saw what happened. The man who attacked your wife disposed of him to get rid of an inconvenient witness.’

  A prolonged silence ensued. It was as if Erlendur’s words had infiltrated that orderly home with its perfectly squared pictures, its neatly aligned porcelain figurines, and somehow knocked everything askew. Distracted, Gústaf put the earring on the table and Erlendur seized this chance to slip it into his pocket. Gústaf did not appear to notice.

  ‘Of course, it’s pure speculation at this stage,’ Erlendur said. ‘None of this necessarily happened. It’s only one possible version of events. We know your wife’s earring was found inside the pipeline. So chances are that she was there herself. What was she doing there? Hiding, most likely. Who from? That’s where I thought you might be able to enlighten me.’

  Unable to remain still while Erlendur was speaking, Gústaf had sprung to his feet and was pacing around the room.

  ‘What are you insinuating?’ he demanded, coming to a standstill. ‘How can I possibly enlighten you? What are you driving at?’

  ‘I’ve spoken to various people about this case, and I’m told that –’

  ‘People? What people?’

  ‘People who knew Oddný, friends –’

  ‘Which friends?’ Gústaf interrupted. ‘Surely you haven’t … You haven’t been talking to that nutter Ísidór?’

  ‘I have, yes.’

  ‘What, knowing that he tried to come between me and Oddný? Or didn’t he tell you that?’

  ‘Yes, he did, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘He tried to destroy our marriage. Did his level best to ruin our relationship. He’s … he’s the biggest shit I’ve ever come across.’

  ‘According to him, she wanted to leave you.’

  ‘Yes, well, he would say that, wouldn’t he? Actually, it was the other way round – she was trying to get shot of him. He was stifling her. I’ve always said he was dangerously unstable. If anyone’s done away with Oddný, it’s him. I told the police that but they were strangely reluctant to pursue the matter.’

  ‘I gather he said the same about you.’

  ‘He told the most appalling lies about me.’

  ‘Why did she get involved with Ísidór if he’s so unstable?’ asked Erlendur.

  ‘I don’t know. A moment of madness. I never understood it.’

  ‘But you forgave her?’

  ‘I … I wanted to save our marriage. You know he had the temerity to ring here and ask to speak to her? That’s how I found out about their affair. He had absolutely no qualms about making trouble for her. Can’t you see that? That’s what he’s like. You must see that he’s sick. It’s obvious. I can’t for the life of me imagine what Oddný was doing with him and, besides, it didn’t work out. They met up a few times, she told me, before she realised – realised he was unhinged.’

  ‘But I’ve heard it from other sources too,’ said Erlendur. ‘That you had marital problems.’

  ‘Who? Who said that?’

  ‘Just people I talked to. And not only problems. Oddný was having a very rough time, that’s why she looked elsewhere. It’s not only Ísidór who says that.
’

  ‘A very rough time?’

  ‘I’ve heard rumours of violence,’ said Erlendur.

  Gústaf’s eyes dropped to the hoovered carpet.

  ‘Was that why you bought her jewellery?’ asked Erlendur.

  Gústaf did not reply.

  ‘Was that why you bought her the earrings? To beg her forgiveness?’

  ‘I’ve…’ Gústaf drew a deep breath. ‘I’ve gone out of my way to be polite to you, invited you into my house, listened to you, tried to reason with you. I’m glad you’re interested in the case, in Oddný’s case. No one’s more desperate than me to find her. I’ve tried to talk to you man to man. About sensitive matters – extremely sensitive matters to do with my personal life – with our life together. But then you come out with this, this bloody slander! I’ve already been over this with the police. You’d better get out. I have nothing more to say to you.’

  ‘Was that why she wanted to leave you?’ Erlendur persisted. Gústaf refused to rise to this.

  ‘But you wouldn’t allow it. Not only that but you forgave her for cheating on you and your marriage carried on as if nothing had ever happened?’

  ‘You’d better get out,’ repeated Gústaf in a controlled voice.

  ‘How was your relationship after that?’

  ‘We did our best to work it out. I don’t see how it’s relevant. I’m asking you to leave, please.’

  ‘Did things improve?’

  Gústaf strode into the hall and opened the front door.

  ‘I can’t see that it’s any of your business.’

  ‘Did you attack your wife?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. Now leave me alone. She never came home!’ His voice sank to a whisper. ‘Oddný never came home from Thórskaffi.’ He shut the door on Erlendur.

  40

  Erlendur was off duty for the next four nights. It was always difficult to adjust. More experienced officers had told him it was best to tackle the problem head on and revert to a normal routine when off duty rather than remaining active at night and sleeping during the day. This was easier said than done. The trick was to stay awake all day after the last night shift, then go to bed at the usual time. When you woke up the next morning, so the theory went, your body clock would have reset itself.