The Shadow District Read online

  At that moment they heard a noise from the old man in the wheelchair and turned to look at him.

  ‘… ósamu …?’

  They both stared at Hólmbert. His gaze remained fixed on the television, but it was clear that he was trying to say something. He appeared to be lost in a world of his own, completely oblivious to his son’s presence, let alone Konrád’s.

  ‘… ós … am … un …?’ he whispered hoarsely at the TV screen.

  ‘Dad, it’s me Benjamín, your son.’

  Hólmbert didn’t react or shift his gaze from the television.

  ‘Hólmbert?’ tried Konrád. ‘Can you hear me?’

  The old man sat motionless as if the two visitors had nothing to do with him.

  ‘What’s he trying to say?’ asked Konrád.

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. Look, you’d better go.’

  ‘Didn’t it sound to you like –?’

  ‘It could’ve been anything,’ interrupted Benjamín, his patience running out. ‘I’m asking you to leave him alone. It’s … I’m asking you to leave us alone.’ He went over and stood by the door. ‘Please, just go.’

  Konrád decided to back down. ‘OK, no problem, I’m sorry to inconvenience you. I really didn’t mean to intrude.’ He went out into the corridor and heard the door swing to behind him. As he was leaving the nursing home, he took out his phone and rang Marta.

  ‘What now?’ she asked.

  ‘Have you still got those recordings from the CCTV cameras in the vicinity of Stefán Thórdarson’s flat?’

  ‘Yes, a whole pile of them. All bloody useless.’

  ‘Why useless?’

  ‘Because I don’t know what I’m looking for. They just show people coming and going, and I don’t know who any of them are.’

  ‘Let me have a look at them.’

  ‘Why? What have you found out?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Konrád. ‘I’d need to check the CCTV footage. But, unlike you, at least I know what I’m looking for.’

  ‘Hurry up then,’ said Marta. ‘I was just about to head home.’

  48

  It wasn’t easy for Konrád to persuade Benjamín to meet him behind the National Theatre. Benjamín flatly refused at first, protesting that he didn’t have time for such nonsense and insisting that Konrád leave him and his family alone. Meeting behind the theatre was an absurd idea. He had no interest in Konrád’s melodramatic attempts to smear his family. What happened in the past belonged in the past. Rósamunda’s murder had been solved by the police seventy years ago; her killer had been caught, so he saw absolutely no reason to waste his time on wild conjectures and rumours.

  Konrád countered that the matter concerned not only Rósamunda’s case but some new evidence that had come to light regarding Thorson’s recent demise. He reiterated that he would wait for Benjamín behind the theatre. There were a few details he wanted to run by him. If Benjamín didn’t show up, it would make no difference; the matter would progress to the next level, though Konrád’s part in it was finished.

  ‘Have you notified the police?’ asked Benjamín, after a weighty pause.

  ‘I’ve shared some of my findings,’ said Konrád, ‘but I’ve yet to give them my final report.’

  At this, Benjamín retorted that he wanted nothing more to do with him and hung up. Konrád put his phone away. He sat in his car, peering into the doorway where Rósamunda had been found alone, discarded, back in the days when the world had been at war and the theatre had been an army depot. He was parked on Lindargata, a stone’s throw from Skuggasund. The streets were quiet. A black cat slunk across the road and darted into a nearby garden. A pair of lovers walked hand in hand along the pavement and disappeared in the direction of Arnarhóll.

  Konrád got out of his car, walked over to the theatre and gazed up its obsidian-dashed walls, studying the decorative features designed to resemble pillars of columnar basalt, with their allusions to the country’s geology and centuries-old folklore. Within these thick, dark walls human dramas were staged for public entertainment; sorrow and joy were doled out in equal measure, just as they were in life itself. The difference being that when the curtain fell the performance was over and the audiences could go home. Whereas in the real world the drama never ended.

  Three quarters of an hour later, Konrád decided to call it a day and head home, having given up all hope that Benjamín would put in an appearance. He opened the car door and was about to ease himself into the driver’s seat when he noticed a figure standing motionless on the corner of Skuggasund, head turned in his direction.

  ‘Benjamín?’ Konrád called.

  The man crossed the road towards him and Konrád saw that it was indeed Benjamín. So Konrád had at least succeeded in whetting his curiosity.

  ‘Why did you ask me to come down here?’ asked Benjamín. ‘What’s all this in aid of?’

  ‘Thank you for coming.’

  ‘You didn’t exactly give me much choice.’

  ‘Do you find yourself drawn here at times? Because of what happened?’

  ‘I sometimes go to the theatre, if that’s what you’re asking. Apart from that I have no reason to come here.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘I can’t imagine why I should. I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate. What happened here had absolutely nothing to do with me or my family.’

  ‘Yet you came anyway.’

  Benjamín didn’t reply to this.

  The theatre was illuminated by small floodlights that threw strange shapes on the walls as in a shadow play.

  ‘I grew up around here,’ said Konrád conversationally. ‘In these streets. Among these buildings. It was here that I first heard about Rósamunda. About her being found in that doorway over there. The incident affected me directly, so maybe that’s why I can’t let it go. You see, a seance was held at my house for Rósamunda’s parents. Disinterring bodies was in fashion at the time and phoney mediums saw a chance to get in on the act, though that’s another story. I don’t know how or why, but this particular medium told my father that alongside Rósamunda he’d sensed another girl, whose spirit could find no rest. Then, the other day, I learnt about the existence of a second girl, called Hrund, from an old neighbour of mine from the Shadow District. If I believed in seances, which I don’t, I’d have thought the girl the medium mentioned must have been this Hrund.’

  ‘You said you had new evidence,’ said Benjamín impatiently. ‘Is that it? Is that all? A seance? Paranormal claptrap?’

  Konrád smiled. ‘You told me you hadn’t met Thorson at the nursing home. I believe he went there after discovering that your father had been in the north when Hrund went missing. The news struck him as significant; he must have regretted that he didn’t make that discovery at the time. That’s why he urgently wanted to go and see your father and try to establish the truth.’

  ‘You said something new had come to light. What’s new about any of this? Don’t tell me you dragged me all the way down here just for that?’

  ‘Did you visit Thorson after he went to see your father?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did he tell you he was going to have the case reopened? Alert the press? Bring it to the attention of the public?’

  ‘I never spoke to the man,’ said Benjamín.

  ‘What if I tell you that we have CCTV recordings from two locations close to Thorson’s home, both of which show you in the area at the time of his death?’

  ‘CCTV? What are you talking about?’ asked Benjamín after a moment’s silence.

  ‘You hurried away across the school playground after your visit to Thorson,’ said Konrád. ‘And you passed the entrance to the bank on your way to his place, though naturally you weren’t in such a hurry at that stage. The timing fits. You must have gone to see him at lunchtime. Somehow you managed to trick him. To allay his suspicions. Perhaps you pretended to leave. Left the door on the latch and crept back in after he’d gone for a res
t. Somehow, I don’t know exactly how, you managed to catch him unawares –’

  ‘This is absolute bullshit,’ protested Benjamín.

  ‘You were careful to park some distance from his building. Had you already decided what you were going to do before you knocked on his door?’

  ‘That’s it,’ snapped Benjamín. ‘I have nothing more to say to you.’

  ‘Your grandfather made a favourite of Hólmbert and left the family business to him, over all his other children. Did he know about his son? Did he know what kind of monster he was?’

  ‘My father isn’t a monster,’ objected Benjamín. ‘He’s a desperately ill man who has a right to die in peace.’

  ‘Unlike Thorson, you mean?’

  Benjamín stared wildly at him.

  ‘Are you aware of what your father did?’ said Konrád. ‘Do you know his story? You must do. Or you’d never have gone round to see Thorson in the first place.’

  ‘This is a waste of time,’ said Benjamín and, spinning on his heel, stormed off towards Skuggasund. Konrád remained where he was, watching him go. He had been toying with a theory that he wanted to try out on Benjamín. He didn’t know if it was true, but he wanted to test it on the one man who might be able to confirm it.

  ‘I don’t believe it was necessarily your father who was the monster,’ he called after Benjamín.

  The other man didn’t break his stride.

  ‘Did you hear me? I don’t believe your father was the monster.’

  He saw Benjamín slow down and finally come to a halt on the far side of Lindargata. He stood motionless for a while, hands thrust into his coat pockets, head a little bowed, as if he were deep in thought. Konrád studied his figure from behind and tried to imagine the struggle that must be going on inside him. Finally Benjamín’s shoulders sagged in defeat and slowly, reluctantly, he turned.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I believe your father may have been an innocent pawn in all this,’ said Konrád.

  ‘What … why … what makes you think that?’

  ‘He’s not the only possible suspect,’ said Konrád. ‘He may have been an accessory to the crime since he knew what had happened, but I’m not convinced he was the one who dumped Rósamunda here.’

  Benjamín retraced his steps towards him.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Family secrets. About your father. And your grandfather. The police didn’t know they’d been travelling together up north when Hrund vanished. That information was never revealed. Thorson only found out about it recently. Nor did it ever come out that Rósamunda was frightened of your house. Had Thorson known that at the time, the case would have turned out very differently. I’m guessing he urgently wanted to find out the truth and bring it to the attention of the police before it was too late for him. That’s why he went to see your father. And that’s why you went to see Thorson.’

  ‘You can’t … you’ve got no … no …’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got enough,’ said Konrád. ‘Enough to implicate you in Thorson’s murder and enough to reopen the old inquiry into Rósamunda’s death.’

  ‘You can’t …’

  ‘Of course I can. It’s over, and you know it. What you did may not have come naturally to you, but you did it all the same, and you need to confess. For your own sake.’

  ‘I … we …’

  Benjamín gazed imploringly at Konrád, as if begging for his understanding. Konrád saw that he was no longer angry. His defiance was waning, giving way beneath the crushing weight of his guilt. He was overwhelmed by the repercussions of what he had done – the fallout from the act he had tried to justify and bury so deep in his consciousness that it seemed almost to belong to someone else.

  ‘Tell me what happened,’ said Konrád. ‘You didn’t have to shoulder this burden. You did it out of a sense of loyalty to your family. I can understand that. I can understand what motivated you, but you went too far. You simply went too far.’

  ‘But the old man was going to expose the whole thing.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I couldn’t allow it. Just couldn’t. I couldn’t … perhaps if it had only been my grandfather … but my father was … my father was no better … I caught the old man in my father’s room and threw him out … He started going on about Rósamunda and claiming that Dad had … I didn’t know what to do …’

  Benjamín was incapable of continuing. For a long time he just stood there, eyes lowered, until finally he drew an envelope from his pocket and held it out to Konrád. ‘I found this in his flat and didn’t dare leave it behind.’

  Konrád took the letter. It was addressed to Thorson. Reading it, he saw that it was from Thorson’s old colleague Flóvent. It included the information that Hólmbert had been the police’s main informant in the case against Jónatan.

  ‘I didn’t dare leave it behind,’ repeated Benjamín. ‘After I’d … I’d … what I’d done …’

  49

  Hearing a knock at the door, Thorson went and opened it, only to discover that Hólmbert’s son had come to see him. It was just after lunch and Thorson had been about to go for a rest as was his habit at this time of day. But he had been half expecting this visit.

  ‘I wanted to apologise for what happened at the nursing home earlier,’ said the man, having introduced himself as Benjamín. He seemed perfectly calm now that he was standing on Thorson’s landing. ‘I had no right to speak to you like that, let alone threaten you,’ he went on. ‘I was brought up to respect my elders, so I do hope you won’t hold it against me. What you told me came as a shock, but my behaviour … it didn’t do me any credit and I wanted to apologise.’

  ‘I was only saying what I believe to be true,’ said Thorson.

  ‘Of course, I do see that. I hope you’ll forgive me. Ideally, I’d like a chance to get to the bottom of this matter myself, but if you feel the need to involve the police, of course you have every right. And I’ll give them all the assistance I can.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that.’

  ‘To be honest, it came as a horrible shock … Look, could I possibly come in for a minute? I feel awkward discussing this on the landing.’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Benjamín followed Thorson into the sitting room.

  ‘Unfortunately, I have good grounds for believing that what I told you earlier is true,’ said Thorson. ‘Although nobody else remembers the events any more, I do, and if my suspicion proves correct, the case will have to be reopened.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I can see that now I’ve had time to think,’ said Benjamín. ‘Of course the whole incident needs re-examining. I couldn’t agree more. I take it you’ve already spoken to the police?’

  ‘I’m planning to do so shortly. I know this will be unwelcome news for you. Presumably you’ll want to discuss it with your brothers and sisters, and your mother?’

  ‘Yes, naturally. My father’s seriously ill. He won’t be aware of what’s going on even if the case does become a police matter. On health grounds, I very much doubt he’ll be forced to stand trial. He hasn’t got long to live. I was wondering …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I was wondering if I could appeal to your sense of compassion,’ said Benjamín. ‘If what you say is true, don’t you think that justice has already been done? He’s suffered. My mother’s suffering. It’s been incredibly painful for me to see someone who was always so strong and vigorous reduced to an unrecognisable husk by this horrific disease.’

  ‘I suppose that’s not really the kind of justice I was talking about,’ said Thorson. ‘What you say is quite right: your father’s a very sick man. But, strange as it may seem to you, he’s the least of my concerns. What concerns me is a young man called Jónatan and a detective I once worked with, whose name was Flóvent. I owe it to Jónatan to see that the truth comes out. And Flóvent would have wanted me to clear the boy’s name. We abandoned the inquiry just when it should have been getting going. I left
the country. Flóvent was badly hit by Jónatan’s death. We both were. It’s not too late …’

  ‘For the truth to come out?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Well, in my view what you claim is outrageous,’ said Benjamín. ‘I still can’t understand how you’ve come to such a conclusion. But that’s your business. All I beg is that you shield my father, shield those of us in his family who are still alive …’

  ‘I can only do what’s right,’ said Thorson. ‘However badly it may affect you.’

  ‘What do you mean by “right”? Do you really think it’s right to destroy my family?’ Benjamín hesitated a moment, then continued. ‘I’m a wealthy man. If you’d like me to make a donation to some charity or organisation … some pension fund … either now or in the event you ever find yourself in need …’

  Thorson shook his head.

  ‘Incidentally, that’s in no way intended as an admission,’ said Benjamín. ‘Only that I know that the moment this becomes public – assuming the police make it public – the rumour mill will start up and it’ll be almost impossible to reverse the damage. I run a large company. We’re prominent members of society. Allegations of this kind would be a serious blow to our reputation.’

  Thorson didn’t know how to respond to this.

  ‘Are you quite sure it was my father who did this to the girls?’ asked Benjamín.

  ‘I’m convinced, and I believe a proper investigation will confirm my findings. At least in Rósamunda’s case. Hrund is more difficult. Her body was never found, so there’s no way of knowing exactly what happened.’

  ‘I see. Fine. Then I’ll expect a call from the police shortly. Again, please excuse my behaviour earlier – I lost my temper when you started coming out with those allegations. I hope you won’t hold it against me.’