The Commandments : A Novel (2021)

by Gudmundsson, Oskar

  ‘Everything’s fine. We’ve landed in Akureyri.’

  ‘Oh, you’re in the forensic team?’

  ‘I am,’ Óttar laughed. ‘And I’m leading it.’

  She had got to know him in during her time with the police in Reykjavík when they had worked on several of the same cases. But she hadn’t seen him since leaving for London.

  ‘That’s a step up. Congratulations on the job. Where are you now?’

  ‘On the way to Grenivík. Should be there in half an hour. And you?’

  ‘I’m in Grenivík at Skúli’s house. He was the first person on the scene at the church. I’ll give you the details when we come over to see you. Looking forward to seeing you,’ she said and ended the call.

  In the kitchen Salka looked over the pale green cupboards that showed their age. She opened the cupboard under the sink and peered inside. She let the light of her torch play over the waste pipe and couldn't see any trace of blood where Skúli could have hurt his head. She checked the greasy bottom of the cupboard. She picked up a couple of plastic bottles of cleaning fluids. Some had clearly been unmoved for a long time, with no grease to be seen where they had been. If Skúli had genuinely had to deal with a blocked pipe, then he would have had to move the bottles and everything else to get to it. She had no doubt he had lied to her.

  Leaving the house was like walking into an ambush through the clicking of camera shutters and reporters’ questions to the street. Gísli carried Húbert to the car and laid her tenderly on the back seat. They answered no questions, got in the car and drove away.

  Gísli parked in the yard in front of the church next to a black van. Salka got out and saw four forensic technicians in white overalls make their way into the church, while Óttar sat in the open van, pulling on his overalls.

  ‘Hello there, Salka. You look worn out. Can’t sleep?’ he said with a smile.

  Now she remembered. He always got straight to the point. They had always got on well and as she looked at him now she saw that in the intervening years he hadn’t changed in the slightest. He was around sixty. While there were maybe a few more grey hairs, he came across as his usual cheerful, amiable self. He was neither slimmer nor fatter than before. The paunch was still there and she recalled him regularly cursing his weight.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, taking a seat beside him.

  ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Hard to tell.’

  She gave him a quick rundown of the situation, including her conversation with Skúli and how he claimed to have received his head injury.

  ‘He lives over there,’ she said, jerking a thumb at the house. ‘I’d like to ask you specially to take a look at the cupboard under the kitchen sink and check if there’s any trace of blood. I know the church takes priority, but any chance you could take a look soon?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I suspect Skúli’s not telling the truth and it would be very useful to be certain before I talk to him again later today.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Óttar said as he got to his feet. The overall was unwilling to go past his hips and he worked the material back and forth while Salka grinned. ‘I understand from Pétur that you were involved in a case concerning Hróbjartur four years ago.’

  ‘That’s right. We investigated accusations against him and other priests. We were never able to reach a conclusion. That’s the worst of dealing with these cases. You have all the victims’ narratives and you can put your finger on what’s right and just. At the same time, you have the feeling that it’ll all come to nothing, as happened with this case. The whole thing was dismissed.’

  ‘Shit,’ Óttar said in irritation.

  Salka glanced at him in surprise, and saw where the zip of the overalls had given way as it had been stretched across his belly.

  ‘I took the wrong size,’ he said with an awkward smile, pulling the overall off.

  ‘Try this one. It’s an L,’ she said, stretching behind her for an overall pack, at the same time pulling off the XL label. ‘You’ll be a good while in the church,’ she said, standing up. ‘I need to run into Akureyri. Húbert needs to see a vet and I need another chat with Skúli.’

  Óttar gave her a surprised look, and Salka explained about the dog.

  ‘I’m wondering if it’s all right to take a look at Hróbjartur’s place?’ she added. ‘He lived in Akureyri. I’ll be careful.’

  ‘That should be fine. You know what to do.’

  ‘Thanks. Good to see you again, Óttar,’ she said, and left him to get into the patrol car with Gísli.

  14

  Salka went into the interview room and took a seat facing Skúli, who glanced up at her from where he sprawled forward across the desk. Valgeir had already told her that he had offered him a cell if he wanted to lie down, since he had complained of being tired.

  ‘Have you had anything to eat?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said and sounded calm.

  Salka switched on the recorder, and clearly stated the date and time, her name and Skúli's, then gave herself time to think things over.

  ‘Is Húbert all right?’ Skúli asked, sitting up straight.

  ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She clearly wasn’t right, so we had to take her to a vet.’

  ‘I told you. This is your responsibility,’ he said angrily, rising to his feet.

  Looking up at him, Salka told him to sit back down.

  ‘You remember what we talked about,’ she said sharply when he stayed on his feet. ‘Húbert was like that when we got there. She was in pain and bleeding.’

  ‘Bleeding? Where?’ he demanded, sinking back into the chair.

  ‘Her genitals. And her belly is sore. Something has happened to her. That hardly occurred while she was at home alone. Or what do you reckon?’

  Skúli stared at Salka, and then his gaze travelled around the room. He leaned back in the chair.

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘So you’re telling me that she was fine when you last saw her?’

  ‘Absolutely. Nothing unusual. Can I go to the vet?’

  ‘No.’

  He hunched forward and stared down at the floor.

  ‘Why do you think I’m guilty? I was the one who called about Hróbjartur,’ he said as he straightened himself upright again.

  ‘That injury, Skúli,’ Salka said, bypassing his question.

  ‘What? Oh, that,’ he said, a hand going to where Salka’s eyes rested. ‘What about it?’

  ‘Where, and how, did you get that cut?’

  ‘I’ve told you already – twice,’ he said with heavy emphasis, tugging a lock of hair down over the cut to his temple.

  It was clear to Salka that he was uncomfortable with the subject.

  ‘The forensic team are in Grenivík and they took a look at the cupboard. They called me just now. There’s nothing to indicate that you got the injury there. No trace of any blood.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean anything. There was so little blood anyway, and I probably wiped it off the pipes when I was messing about with them. And I don’t know if I caught my head against the drain or the stopcock under the sink. Those have sharp edges.’

  ‘Nobody has touched those pipes of the stopcocks for a long time, Skúli. That was obvious when the location was inspected.’

  ‘That’s total bullshit. Are they plumbers?’

  ‘No,’ Salka said, allowing herself a thin smile. ‘These are specialists. They see that kind of thing. It was obvious even to me. Nobody has touched that drain for ages.’ She leaned forward and continued calmly. ‘Tell the truth, Skúli. How did you come by that cut? That was quite a blow. Did it happen in the church?’

  There was a long silence before Skúli spoke.

  ‘All right. But you promise not to tell anyone,’ he muttered.

  ‘I can’t promise that, Skúli.’

  ‘Then I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Why not?’


  ‘Because then I’ll lose my job!’ he barked, taking Salka by surprise.

  ‘Don’t you want to get out of here as soon as possible? Tell me what happened.’

  ‘I sneaked into the swimming pool during the night,’ he said, after holding Salka’s gaze for a long time. ‘I wasn’t at home, like I told you I was. I sneaked into the pool. I’ll lose my job if anyone finds out.’

  ‘How did you get in? Did you have a key?’

  ‘I have keys for all the places where I look after the maintenance.’

  ‘And where are these keys?’

  ‘You took them, of course. Everything was taken off me when I was brought here.’

  ‘I suppose there are cameras at the pool?’

  ‘Yes, but I switched them off while I was there. I do it sometimes and I can’t let anyone find out,’ he fretted. ‘I had a swim and then went in the cold plunge pool. I tripped as I was getting out and that’s when I banged my head.’

  Salka wanted to let out a sigh of frustration. She was certain that there would be no chance of finding any supporting evidence.

  ‘You were alone?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘And did your trip to the pool take long?’

  ‘No. Maybe half an hour.’

  ‘And then? What happened after you left the pool?’

  ‘I walked past the church on the way home and saw the door was open. It’s just like I told you before. I found Hróbjartur by the altar, went home and called the cops.’

  ‘Tell me about it one more time.’

  After listening again to his account, she sat and watched Skúli, who looked down at his hands. Somehow, she felt sympathy for this lad. She realised there was no reason to keep him at the station, and decided that he could be released.

  ‘Why not?’ he asked when Salka told him he couldn’t go straight home, explaining that the house was still part of a suspected crime scene.

  ‘Húbert had better be fine,’ he said as an ominous parting shot, looking around as Salka watched him go along the corridor. The tone was disturbing. He left the building and got into his mother’s car.

  She looked in at Valgeir’s office, where he was at his desk.

  ‘Afternoon snack?’ she asked with a smile.

  Valgeir started, placed the pastry on a plate and picked up a serviette to wipe his mouth.

  ‘You’ll scare me to death doing that,’ he laughed. ‘How did it go with Skúli?’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t really know. He changed part of his story,’ she said and explained about Skúli’s night-time visit to the pool.

  ‘I think you’re on the wrong track with the lad.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘You’ve seen the treatment Hróbjartur got. I spoke to Óttar earlier and he told me about the state of the corpse. Skúli could never have done anything like that. It’s just not possible. He’s not the type to carry out anything on that scale of brutality.’

  ‘More than likely, and I would hope so. And I never said that he was the perpetrator. Do you remember the Grótta murderer?’

  Valgeir thought for a moment, then nodded.

  ‘The man’s wife swore that he could never have murdered that person. He was nervous, sensitive, afraid of the dark and the type who cried at romantic films. And I agreed with her. When I spoke to him, I was convinced that it was out of the question that he could have committed such a terrible act. But what I know today is that even though it’s hidden away somewhere deep, the unlikeliest people have a dark side. And you know this as well. I hope that you’re completely right about Skúli and that he’s innocent. But until there’s evidence to the contrary, he remains a suspect,’ she said heavily, and took a deep breath.

  ‘All I’m saying is that I know him so well that…’

  ‘I have to go to the hotel now, and then I’ll take a look at Hróbjartur’s place,’ Salka said as she left his office. ‘I’ll be in touch later.’

  15

  The sun shone on this hot August afternoon. People sat outside the cafés on Hafnarstræti with drinks and snacks.

  Leaving the police station behind her, it occurred to Salka to stop off at one of the bars for a beer, but this tempting thought was quickly abandoned. It was getting on for five in the afternoon and this was turning out to be a very long day. She decided to go up to her room and take a quick shower before looking over Hróbjartur’s apartment, which was within easy walking distance.

  Salka wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting on the bed. She felt completely drained.

  She thought things through. She stood up, fetched a glass from the kitchen cupboard and let the water run cold from the tap before she filled it. Then she went over to the window that overlooked Hafnarstræti, peering out between the curtains.

  As she took in the colourful throng of people passing by outside, it was difficult to work out whether the majority were foreign tourists or locals. Mostly tourists, she decided, as most of them wielded cameras as they stood on the sweep of the one hundred and seven steps leading up to the church, or standing by one of the world’s smallest turreted houses that was halfway along Hafnarstræti. Otherwise, they posed in front of Grýla and Leppalúði outside the tourist shop just below her window. The locals seemed to stroll past, deep in thought, or else strode with determination on their way from A to B.

  Skúli’s behaviour troubled her, but Valgeir was probably right. He was unlikely to be Hróbjartur’s killer. There was an unbelievable fury behind the crime, some indescribable rage, and she couldn’t see Skúli as the person who had castrated Hróbjartur. All the same, she was certain that he wasn’t telling her the whole story. When she had asked about his relationship with Hróbjartur, he had said that they hadn’t had much to do with each other, apart from the times Hróbjartur had asked for something to be fixed. Just like in their first conversation, Salka had the feeling that Skúli felt uncomfortable every time Hróbjartur was mentioned. Still, it was possible that he could be one of the cunning ones, one of those consummate liars who can spin a complex tale on the spur of the moment, the ones who can do all this untroubled by the slightest guilt.

  The air was stifling, and she dropped the towel she had wrapped around herself before lying naked on the sofa. The breeze from the open window above was as gentle as a feather as it played over her skin. Last night she had slept for three hours. It was tempting to shut her eyes for an hour, but her conscience wouldn’t allow that. It was time to get back to work. She got quickly to her feet and pulled on some clothes.

  Her phone rang and she felt a stab of anxiety seeing an unfamiliar number. She sat on a kitchen stool. Yes, after looking at it for a while, this was a number she recognised after all. Magnús came to mind. She had thought of him while she had sat in the café earlier, and looked him up in the online phone directory. She had toyed with the idea of calling him, but decided against it. She stared at the screen and hesitated. She didn’t want to appear too keen.

  Hell, she thought, and was about to answer the call when an email alert appeared on her screen. She opened it. The message was from CID, which had forwarded the case files she had requested connected to the previous charges against the priests.

  ‘Hello,’ Kolla said when Salka answered the phone, just as she was getting dressed, and confirmed that the email had reached her. ‘Unfortunately, I can’t be there,’ Kolla said. ‘I’m abroad at the moment, trying to get my flights changed so I can get back sooner. Thank you for responding so quickly. How’s it going?’

  Salka gave her a quick status report on the investigation. There were long silences as she described the state in which Hróbjartur had been found. She tried to tone down her descriptions, so as to shield her from the worst of it, but quickly realised that this was irritating Kolla, who wanted the facts of the case.

  ‘How did you know Hróbjartur?’ Salka asked after a long pause. There was no mistaking that her account of the circumstances at the church in Grenivík had left Kolla shocked.

&n
bsp; ‘We got to know him many years ago. Probably a good thirty years ago, through a mutual friend. We got on well and have stayed in contact, but at intervals. He was a missionary in Africa for some years. My husband managed a fish sales company for a while, and Hróbjartur helped him establish some business links there.’

  ‘Any idea who could have wanted to harm him?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue, but it goes without saying that the accusations that were made against him come to mind. Those people were naturally crushed when the case was dismissed. But this… it’s unbelievably brutal. Going by your descriptions, there’s something serious behind all this. I can’t imagine anyone going to these lengths unless something terrible happened to them in the past.’

  ‘When did you last see Hróbjartur?’

  ‘Last month. We were invited to a dinner party, and he was there as well.’

  ‘And you didn’t get the feeling from him that anything was wrong? Anything out of the ordinary? Apologies for the questions, Kolla. I’m trying to make sense of all this,’ Salka said, conscious of the oddity of having to pose questions to a senior officer as if this were an interrogation.

  ‘That’s no problem, Salka. I understand perfectly. But no. He was just his usual self. Funny and cheerful. We talked about all sorts of things.’

  ‘What about the accusations that were made against him? Is that something he ever mentioned?’

  ‘No. Never. But I can be certain that was a heavy burden for him. As you know, the case was dismissed as it was beyond the statute of limitations, but also because there was precious little evidence. There simply wasn’t enough there to make a conviction likely.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘Do you believe he was innocent?’

  ‘It’s difficult for me to answer that right now. But at the time my opinion was that he was innocent,’ Kolla said after pausing for thought.

  ‘You don’t sound exactly convinced,’ Salka said.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s always difficult when a case is connected to you personally. It could be that I simply didn’t want to believe that he could have been capable of anything so vile. But that sort of thinking doesn’t count for much, and I’ve been losing sleep over this,’ Kolla said. Salka could hear the anguish in her voice. ‘I’ve not been able to stop going over our relationship in my mind over the years. There’s nothing I can put my finger on anywhere that points to anything abnormal or wrong about his behaviour. Or that he could have abused girls… or boys. But what do I know? How do you even notice that kind of thing? Maybe I’m closing that off and can’t bring myself to see the whole thing in a clear light. Do any of us know anyone so intimately? Who is capable of such deception?’