Arctic Chill de-7 Read online

  “We’re just checking the reliability of the witness statement we’ve taken, nothing more,” Elinborg said, without removing her eyes from Hallur. “Where were you?”

  “He was at home,” the woman said. “He was asleep in his room. He finished school at one and slept till four. I was at home.”

  “Is that right?” Elinborg asked the boy.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Sleep a lot during the day, do you?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “We can never get him to bed in the evening,” his mother said. “He’s up all night. It’s hardly surprising he sleeps during the day.”

  “Don’t you go out to work?” Elinborg asked, addressing the mother.

  “I only work half days,” she said. “In the mornings.”

  When the figure removed the muffling scarf, Erlendur found himself face to face with Sunee’s brother Virote. He was still holding the bag of drink-cans.

  “You?” Erlendur said.

  “How you find me?” Virote asked.

  “I… what are you doing out in this weather?”

  “You follow me?”

  “Yes,” Erlendur said. “Do you collect cans?”

  “It pay little money”

  “Where’s Niran?” Erlendur asked. “Do you know?”

  “Niran okay,” Virote said.

  “Do you know where he is?”

  Virote was mute.

  “Do you know Niran’s whereabouts?”

  Virote looked at Erlendur for a long time, then nodded.

  “Why are you hiding him?” Erlendur asked. “You’re only making matters worse. We’re starting to think he must have attacked his brother. Your actions only support the idea. When you take him away like this, hide him.”

  “It not like that,” Virote said. “He not do nothing to Elias.”

  “We have to talk to him,” Erlendur said. “I know you’re trying to protect him but this has gone too far. You won’t gain anything by keeping him hidden.”

  “He not attack Elias.”

  “Then what? What do you mean by hiding him like this?”

  Virote did not speak.

  “Answer me,” Erlendur ordered. “What were you doing at your sister’s friend’s house?”

  “I visit him.”

  “Is Niran with him?” Erlendur asked.

  Virote did not answer. Erlendur repeated his question. An icy wind whipped about them in the alleyway and it occurred to Erlendur that Virote must be freezing. His light trainers were wet through, and he was only wearing jeans, a thin windcheater, a scarf and a baseball cap besides. Sensing that Virote was wavering, Erlendur put the question a third time.

  “You have to trust us,” Erlendur said. “We’ll make sure nothing happens to Niran.”

  Virote looked at him for a long time, as if pondering what to do, whether to trust him. Finally he seemed to make up his mind.

  “Come. You come with me.”

  27

  The mobile rang in Erlendur’s pocket. It was Elinborg to tell him about the meeting with Hallur and his parents. Erlendur asked her to call back later. Elinborg said that next she and Sigurdur Oli were going to visit Hallur’s cousin, Agust, who might possibly be able to give them some answers about the knife. They rang off.

  Erlendur replaced the phone in his coat pocket.

  “Where’s Niran now?” he asked.

  “He with Johann,” Virote said.

  “Where you were?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Johann with him?”

  “Yes.”

  On the way Virote told him about Johann whom Sunee had met last spring. They had been seeing each other ever since but Johann was very hesitant and wanted to take things slowly. He was divorced, with no children of his own.

  “Do they plan to live together, Sunee and Johann?” Erlendur asked.

  “Maybe. I think they get married.”

  “And Niran?”

  “Johann help Niran. Sunee take to him.”

  “Why?”

  “Johann help Niran. He very angry. Very difficult. Then this happen.”

  The parents of Hallur’s cousin Agust looked on as Elinborg grilled their son. The mother gasped and the father leaped to his feet in agitation when Elinborg asked the boy straight out if he had murdered Elias. Agust answered every question very much as Hallur had and their stories tallied in all the main details. Neither he nor Hallur had received a knife from Anton. Agust said he had only met Anton on that one occasion at his place and couldn’t explain why the boy was claiming that he had intended to swap a computer game for the wood-carving knife. He didn’t know him at all.

  Agust attended a different school from his cousin Hallur but their circumstances were very similar. Agust’s parents seemed to have no shortage of money; they lived in an attractive detached house with two cars parked outside the garage.

  “Do you know a boy by the name of Niran at your cousin’s school?” Sigurdur Oli asked.

  Agust shook his head. Like Hallur he seemed quite unperturbed by the visit from the police, and gave the impression of being polite and well brought up. He was an only child and it emerged that he and Hallur were almost like brothers and were always messing about together. A quick check revealed that neither had ever been in trouble with the law.

  “Did you know his brother Elias?”

  Again Agust shook his head.

  “Where were you when the murder was committed?”

  “He was with his father up at Hafravatn,” the mother said. “We have a summer cottage by the lake.”

  “Do you often go there midweek, in the middle of the day? Elinborg asked, looking at the father.

  “We go there whenever we like,” he said.

  “And you were both there all day?”

  “Till evening,” the father said. “We’re doing up an old range at the cottage. Are you telling me that on the basis of a pack of lies told by a couple of youths, you come here late at night, in the middle of a blizzard, to ask a string of preposterous questions?”

  “That’s what’s so odd,” Sigurdur Oli said. “Why should they lie about Hallur and Agust, boys they don’t even know?”

  “Isn’t that something you should be looking into? It’s bloody outrageous to come here and pester the boy in the middle of the night with nonsensical questions based on information from some youths who sound to me as if they’re trying to get themselves out of trouble.”

  “Maybe,” Elinborg said. “We’re only doing our job. You’re welcome to complain to our superiors.”

  “I might just do that”

  “Do you want me to call for you?”

  “Stop it, Ottar,” the woman said.

  “No, I’m serious,” the man said. “This conduct is bloody outrageous.”

  Elinborg had taken out her mobile phone. It had been a long day and she would have given anything to be at home. She could have had a word with Sigurdur Oli and agreed to come back in the morning, apologising yet again for the intrusion, but this man was seriously aggravating her. Everything he said was correct but he was being deliberately provocative and getting on her nerves. Before she knew what she was doing she had selected Erlendur’s number and handed the man the phone.

  “This is the man you want to talk to,” she said.

  Erlendur approached the house with Virote. It had taken them ten minutes to walk up from the town centre. Virote pressed the bell, the door opened and a man whom Erlendur assumed was Johann appeared, clearly upset, and started talking in a rush to Virote. He did not notice Erlendur at first but when he stepped forwards the man started back and stared at them both in turn.

  “Are you from the police?” he asked, looking suspiciously at Erlendur.

  Erlendur nodded.

  “You’re Johann, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s going on here?”

  “Sunee wanted it this way. I’m trying to help her.”

  “Where Niran?” Virote asked.


  “Niran’s disappeared,” Johann said.

  “Do you know where he’s gone?” Erlendur asked.

  “No.”

  “Home, maybe?” Erlendur suggested.

  “No, I called Sunee,” Johann said. “She’s desperately worried.”

  “Where can he have gone?”

  “Impossible to say. He’s been more agitated than usual today. He’s in a bad way. He feels he should have looked after Elias better.”

  “When did he leave?”

  “I didn’t hear him go out”

  Johann showed Erlendur into the kitchen.

  “Not more than fifteen, twenty minutes ago. I had to pop out to the shop and when I came back he was gone.”

  There was no mistaking Johann’s anxiety. He was of medium height, fair-haired and lean, dressed in a blue denim shirt and black trousers, and had a neat beard that he kept stroking down from his mouth.

  “I heard at work that the police have been asking questions about me,” he said.

  “You and Sunee must have known each other for some time if she trusts you with Niran.”

  “Yes, nine months, more or less.”

  “But you’ve been keeping it pretty hush-hush.”

  “No, I don’t know. Hush-hush. We wanted to be cautious. I got divorced four years back and have lived alone since. Sunee’s the first woman I’ve met since my divorce who I really like. She’s special.”

  “Are you planning to live together?”

  “We’ve talked about my moving into her place in the summer.”

  “You’ve been to her place?”

  “Yes, several times. I couldn’t believe what happened to poor little Elias. I didn’t hear about it till the day afterwards because I was in the West Fjords on business and didn’t see the news. When people started talking about the murder, I immediately thought of Sunee. Then her brother, Virote here, called me from his mobile and Sunee came on the phone and told me what had happened. She told me about Niran, that he was in shock and in a terrible state and could he stay with me for a few days. He was frightened and knocked sideways by the whole affair as you might expect, and she was afraid for him, afraid that something might happen to him too or that he might do something stupid. I got back to town at lunchtime and found them waiting outside my house. Niran was a terrible sight. Totally destroyed. Sunee asked me to look after him and there was no way I could refuse, no way I could argue with her. It was just something I had to do.”

  Johann looked at Erlendur.

  “Niran wasn’t hostile to me as Sunee had expected,” he explained. “I hit it off with Elias straight away but she was worried about how Niran would react if we started living together. But Niran didn’t take against me. He may not exactly have welcomed me with open arms but he didn’t take against me. He didn’t take much notice of me the few times I visited them at the flat, though I managed to chat to him a bit about football. I was going to sort out a new computer for them so that they could get online. He was very enthusiastic about that.”

  “And you talked about football?”

  “We both support the same English team,” Johann said with a shrug.

  “You didn’t want to get in touch with the police?”

  “No, I did it for Sunee, for her and myself and Niran.”

  “It didn’t occur to you that they might have anything to hide?”

  “Niran could never have harmed a hair on Elias’s head. The very idea is absurd. Ludicrous. You’d know that if you’d only met them for a few minutes. Their relationship was special. I think that’s why Niran reacted so badly. They used to play together and Niran read Thai comics or books to Elias in the evenings. I told Sunee that I wished I’d had such a kind big brother when I was young.”

  “How did you and Sunee meet?”

  “At a nightclub. She was with her friends from the chocolate factory. I’d been at my company’s annual do. I didn’t know her at all. She invited me to dance and we danced and talked. She told me about Thailand. Then I got in touch with her a couple of days later and asked if she remembered me. We met again. She was completely open about everything, about Odinn and her boys and her work at the chocolate factory.”

  “What then?”

  “We started seeing each other regularly. It’s… Sunee … she’s positive and happy and sincere and fun, always sees the bright side of everything. Maybe it’s the Thai mentality, I don’t know. Then this happens, this horrific crime.”

  “But you were a bit coy about the relationship?”

  “We both were, actually. We didn’t want to rush into anything and I admit I needed to think about it. It was completely new and unexpected for me.”

  “You didn’t tell anyone at work?”

  “Only my closest friends, and recently my family, after Sunee and I decided to move in together. But the grapevine has obviously been buzzing because it didn’t take you long to track me down. I’ve asked Sunee to marry me. We’ve discussed getting married as early as this summer but I don’t know . . . then this nightmare happens.”

  “Can you guess where Niran might have gone?”

  “No. As I say, he’s been very restless all day”

  “Did he mention anyone in particular? Anyone he suspected of committing the crime?”

  Johann looked at Erlendur.

  “He talked of revenge. He’d been involved in a scuffle at school with a teacher who threatened him. Niran didn’t want to say who it was but that was one of the reasons why Sunee hid him. She was afraid for him. He’s her only child now.”

  At that moment Virote came into the kitchen holding a scrap of paper. He handed it to Erlendur.

  “I find in Niran room,” Virote said.

  The paper had been torn out of the telephone directory at Kjartan’s name.

  The phone began to ring in Erlendur’s pocket.

  He took it out and pressed the answer button.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “. . . I’m sorry, he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t need to make a complaint . . . “ he heard a familiar voice say, then the caller hung up.

  Erlendur looked up in disbelief. He stared at the phone in his hand. He recognised the voice immediately. He had heard it before.

  A woman of uncertain age with a slightly husky voice, perhaps from smoking.

  He knew he would never forget that voice. It haunted him waking and sleeping because he had not listened to it properly. In his mind it would always be the voice of the guilt-stricken woman who had run away from her husband and turned up dead on Reykjanes beach.

  28

  Agust’s mother intervened and snatched the phone as Elinborg was handing it to the husband so that he could complain to Erlendur about the conduct of his junior officers.

  Passing the phone back to Elinborg, she asked her to excuse her husband’s outburst. He had no reason to criticise the police for doing their job, especially not in such a sensitive case.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “I’m sorry, he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t need to make a complaint”

  Elinborg took the phone and cut the connection, staring from husband to wife. Then she replaced the phone in her bag. Shortly afterwards it started ringing. She looked at the number display. It was Erlendur.

  Kjartan took a taxi home. He had been at a pub in the city centre with some old mates who used to get together from time to time for a few beers. He had left his car at home. Three of them shared a taxi and his was the last stop. The weather had deteriorated dramatically during the evening and visibility was virtually nil. The taxi’s windscreen wipers struggled to cope with the snow and the car narrowly avoided getting bogged down in a drift on the way.

  Kjartan was a little unsteady on his feet when he stepped out of the taxi, which slowly moved off. He straightened up. He’d had one too many, although they had called it a night earlier than usual because of the weather.

  A wild blizzard had blown up. Erlendur drove the Ford as fast as he dared in the conditions. Vir
ote and Johann were with him. The radio reported that whole suburbs of Reykjavik were being cut off due to the severe weather. Erlendur had ordered out a couple of squad cars to go to Kjartan’s house. He only hoped they would arrive in time.

  “The woman you’re with is the one who’s been calling me ever since Elias was attacked,” he informed Elinborg the moment she answered her phone. “She’s the one I mistook for the woman who committed suicide.”

  “Really?” Elinborg said.

  “Is she the mother of the boy you’re with?”

  “Yes.”

  “Keep her talking, I’m going to try to get to you.”

  “All right,” Elinborg said. “Where are you?”

  “I’m on my way,” Erlendur said and hung up.

  Kjartan fumbled in his pocket for the keys; his wife liked to keep the house locked at all times, but he was not as worried about burglars. He found the keys but as he was about to pull them out of his pocket, he noticed a figure emerge from the shadow of the house and block his path.

  “Who are you?” Kjartan asked.

  He heard police sirens in the distance.

  Erlendur saw the flashing blue lights of the police cars through the blizzard. They were turning into Kjartan’s road. He glanced at Virote who was sitting beside him. In the rear-view mirror he could see Johann’s anxious face.

  “Who are you?” Kjartan repeated.

  The figure did not answer. He could not see its face. The sirens grew louder and Kjartan turned his head in their direction. In that very instant the figure lunged, and Kjartan felt a piercing pain as he looked back at his assailant. In the glow of the streetlights he saw that the figure was wearing a basketball cap on its head and had a scarf over its face.

  He fell to his knees, aware of something hot flowing from his belly, and saw the snow at his feet turn dark with blood.

  Raising a hand, he reached out for his attacker, grabbed hold of the scarf and snatched it from its face.

  The two police cars skidded in the snow as they stopped in front of the house. Four officers piled out and ran over to Kjartan as he sank slowly onto his side, still clutching the scarf in his cramped fist. Erlendur’s car drew up and he leaped out with Virote and Johann. Virote ran past the police officers who were cautiously picking their way towards the figure in the shadows.