The Commandments : A Novel (2021)

by Gudmundsson, Oskar

  She wasn’t sure what to think, whether or not to reply, or what she could say.

  ‘What about the gunshots that were heard, that the rapid response unit was called out for?’

  ‘The electricity had been cut off a long time ago. They used gas to cook, and it was one of the bottles that exploded in the fire.’

  ‘And Rafn. How did he get caught up in this?’

  ‘Rafn,’ Magnús said thoughtfully. ‘No doubt there was a time when Rafn was a decent guy, but he isn’t one now. It’s been a long time since he lost his way, and it’s certainly not his fault. That’s down to those men. But I’ve had to deal with him more times than I could count. He sells drugs to children and he causes endless trouble. Once when we were searching a place where he lived, I stumbled across the diary. Back then I hadn’t figured out the connections, didn’t know that Anton and I were brothers. Once I knew that, I did everything I could to lay my hands on the diary. Somehow, he figured out how important it was to me and he wanted an astronomical amount of money for it. I gave him some money, but he cheated me. After he was arrested with some dope, I had a hold over him. I'd get the diary and he’d get a lighter sentence. That was supposed to happen up at the sheds, and then it all went wrong when you and Gísli turned up.’

  ‘That was you running through the woods with Rafn?’

  ‘Yes. I saw you and didn’t know what to do. Like I said, everything went wrong. All I could think of was getting hold of that book.’

  ‘What made it so important?’

  ‘Rafn told me during the interrogation, after I found the diary at his place, about the party he had been at with Anton. That was the last time Rafn saw him. When he woke up, Anton was already gone and he saw those words on the mirror. Face in the mirror, you don’t listen. Farewell with a kiss. An angel dies today! He said that he had written them in the diary that Anton had kept at his place. He said that at first he thought it was something Anton had dreamed up and then taken his own life. Then he talked about how they had been abused by those men, Hróbjartur, Helgi and Gunnleifur.’

  ‘And you didn’t believe him, any more than anyone else had?’

  ‘I don’t know. To begin with I thought he was lying. But there was something that told me he was being truthful. Maybe you get this as well. Sometimes you just know when people are or aren’t lying. Even so, it was pretty rare that there was the slightest grain of truth in anything Rafn said. For whatever reason, those lines somehow were fixed in my mind. I wrote them on the mirrors in Hróbjartur’s and Helgi’s houses, and afterwards it occurred to me that this had been a mistake. That kind of mistake could lead to me, because those lines were in the diary. I had a photocopy, but Rafn kept the original. If the media got wind of this, then Rafn would see it. He’d know at once it was me, because he told me he hadn’t allowed a soul to see the book. And the strange thing was, I believed it when he told me that.’

  ‘We’ll take a break now,’ Salka said.

  They watched each other. Salka smiled.

  ‘What about us?’ she said and Magnús’s gaze dropped. ‘It was no coincidence that we met by the river, was it? You knew I was there. Pétur had told you that he and Kolla wanted me to work with them because I had investigated Hróbjartur in the past, so it would be likely that I’d take on the case. You wanted to be as close as you could to the investigation. You used me. How could you do that?’

  ‘No, Salka,’ he said, looking up to meet her gaze. ‘I never meant to…’

  ‘After we parted by the river, you went straight to Grenivík…’

  ‘No,’ Magnús said in a low voice.

  ‘No, what?’

  ‘First I went to Akureyri because I thought he’d be at home. He must have been watching those videos and forgotten them, as they were on the table in the bedroom. I looked through some of that shit, and left it all on the bed. I knew about his summer house, and went straight there.’

  Salka half-closed her eyes. She sighed almost inaudibly.

  ‘You murdered Hróbjartur, and then went back to the lodge late in the evening. Offered me a glass of wine and chatted as if nothing had happened. How is that even possible? What sort of person has such a vile character? You were perfectly normal. And in reality, what you did to me was nothing short of rape, Magnús, mentally and physically. And you’d have carried on using me. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…’

  The tears trickled down her face.

  She looked around, as if searching for answers that were nowhere to be found. She couldn’t stop herself from twitching, and could no longer hold back as she sobbed openly. She felt the energy drain from her body.

  The door opened and Kolla came into the room. Salka realised that she had not switched off the recording. Kolla went to Salka, who looked at Magnús, and was about to get to her feet. She dropped back into the chair as she felt her legs give way.

  Kolla helped her to stand up, and led her to the door.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Salka. I know you must hate me…’

  She turned to face him. His ruddy face was awash with tears. His lips trembled.

  ‘I don’t hate anyone, Magnús. But I'm dangerously close to feeling that emotion now that I look you in the eye. I feel your pain. I genuinely do. But I can’t forgive you,’ she said in a whisper, and left the room.

  Gísli was waiting beyond the door, and held her in his arms for a long time.

  38

  The sky cleared towards morning, with just an occasional white cloud to be seen. Salka drove past Leira, over Eyjafjörður, and parked the car in a lay-by near the Veigastaðavegur turnoff.

  Kolla had not wanted to allow Salka to take any part in questioning Magnús. She finally gave way after Salka hammered on her desk three times, demanding an informal interview.

  Then she had searched Gísli out and asked him to come for a drive.

  It was half past nine and the morning sun was already high in the sky. She switched off the engine and looked across the golden, mirror-smooth fjord at the town of Akureyri on the other side, just as it was coming to life.

  She wound down the window. There wasn’t a breath of wind. There was little traffic and just a few gulls swooped over the fjord.

  ‘How’s your arm?’ Gísli asked.

  ‘Fine. It wasn’t deep. They glued it together,’ she said and gave him a smile. Then she twisted to face him. ‘Gísli. I’ll be completely honest. I need to go over a few things with you.’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  ‘You’re obviously not aware, but I was equally expecting that you could have appeared at Gunnleifur’s house last night.’ Gísli stared back at her without a word. ‘I know it sounds terrible, but I was starting to suspect you.’

  ‘I’m hugely grateful to you,’ Gísli replied. ‘For the opportunity to work on this investigation with you, and for the faith you put in me. I had the feeling towards the end that there was something up. I just couldn’t work out what it was.’

  ‘I understand… And I don’t understand. You haven’t been entirely honest with me,’ Salka said, and they were both silent for a moment. ‘I saw the picture of you outside Dyrheimar.’

  ‘What? What picture?’

  ‘Gísli,’ she said in disappointment. ‘You know Dyrheimar, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do.’

  ‘There were a few pictures in Anton’s diary that were among the items Rafn had with him. There was a group picture of some children and teenagers who had taken part in a production. And you were in the picture.’

  ‘I see,’ he said, gazing into the distance. ‘I didn’t think that picture was still in existence. I remember when it was taken.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me that you had been part of this group?’

  ‘To start with, I thought it wasn’t relevant,’ he said after pausing for thought. ‘Later on, I thought it might complicate things, that you’d take me off the case. In fact, it’s not relevant. I turned up for two or three rehearsals and knew right away t
hat I wasn’t on the same path as those kids. Back then I was big into football, so I didn't go there more than a couple of times.’

  ‘Understood,’ she said, catching his eye. She sighed, and turned to look out through the windscreen.

  They were both startled as a truck roared past, so that Salka’s car shook.

  ‘That’s the cat out of the bag,’ Gísli laughed. ‘But it can hardly be just that one photo?’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘It can’t be that single picture that made you suspicious about me.’

  ‘No, there was more. You were distant and absent-minded. Sometimes it was difficult to reach you. So when I put things into context, you could have been at the scene when the murders were committed. I know, I know,’ she said when she saw the look of astonishment on Gísli’s face. ‘You were the first officer at the scene of Hróbjartur’s murder. Your hair was all over the place, like you’d been in a scuffle. Looking back, I thought that was suspicious, considering your hair is always so neat.’

  They both laughed.

  ‘I can admit here and now that I parked up in the woods and had a nap. I was asleep on duty and woke up when the call came in to go to Grenivík.’

  ‘Yes, but there were just so many things that led to questions and from there to suspicions. I told you right at the start that I was going to be completely honest, Gísli.’

  ‘I think you’ve already been honest,’ he said with a perplexed smile.

  ‘It’s very difficult to talk about this, but I must.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘I saw more pictures.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You were one of their victims, weren’t you?’

  ‘Whose?’ he said, and Salka didn’t like the innocent tone of his voice.

  ‘Hróbjartur’s. Helgi’s. Gunnleifur’s.’

  ‘How on earth… How do you come to that conclusion?’ he asked, and fell silent.

  ‘The group photo from Dynheimar. It was taken around the same time as the video.’

  ‘Which video, Salka?’

  ‘The one we looked at together at Hróbjartur’s house. You were one of the boys there in the hot tub.’

  Gísli turned away, facing the side window. It wasn’t until she saw his shoulders shake that she realised that he was weeping.

  ‘It’s all right, Gísli,’ she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘I have no choice but to mention this because I must know if you had any part in this.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ he asked, stifling his sobs.

  ‘With Magnús. Do you have any connection to these killings?’

  He sniffed hard and sat up straight. He rubbed his eyes and stared out through the windscreen.

  ‘I had forgiven them all.’

  ‘Did this happen many times?’

  ‘Yes. But I don’t recall any video being recorded. That’s why it hit me so hard when I saw it at Hróbjartur’s house. They pumped us full of booze and some other stuff. I don’t know what it was. Then I woke up, with a pain in…’ he said. The tears were rolling down his cheeks again.

  ‘It’s all right, Gísli.’

  ‘It’s not all right. I can’t maintain any relationship, and this latest one has fallen apart. Yet another one who couldn’t bear me for more than a month. All the same, this one set a record. A month and seven days,’ he said and laughed through his tears. ‘They killed something inside me, but at least I got away from them.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I disappeared. Made myself scarce. Nobody at home knew, but I had a wonderful grandmother who helped me through everything. It was our secret. She protected me and helped me find forgiveness. I know now that I should have done the right thing and gone to the police. But maybe she knew there was no point. She was of the generation that swept anything awkward under the carpet. But she helped me get back on track. I never expected to encounter these men today. And certainly not in this way.’

  ‘After what you’ve been through recently, I believe that you ought to talk to someone who can help you regain some peace of mind,’ Salka said. ‘I think you’ve lost some of that. There’s no point approaching this from the point of view of seeking payback. I’ll help you find the right person to speak to.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Gísli said after a long silence. ‘What about Gunnleifur? Is he leaving the country?’

  ’No. Never,’ she said and grinned as she glanced at him. ‘He’s as strong as an ox. I imagine you’re wondering about the PET scan?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘I called a team meeting and asked Óttar to alter his narrative. As he did concerning the footprints. They were actually closer to your shoe size, and Magnús’s. I had my suspicions about him as well. But I couldn’t pin anything on either of you. It’s easy to be wise after the event, and from much of what Magnús told me, I should have figured things out earlier.’

  ‘He was maybe too close to you?’

  ‘Could be,’ Salka said, with a shiver of discomfort. ‘Anyway, I wanted to be sure that both of you knew Gunnleifur was being sent home and there would be no police presence at his house. I made it clear at the meeting that I considered Skúli and Rafn to be the most likely perpetrators. Then I drove Gunnleifur home and went inside with him, just in case you or someone else were watching. Once we were inside, two officers took him out through the back door and to the next street. They took him to the hotel apartment where I’ve been staying and were there with him all night. I knew it was a bit of a grey area and that I could have been wrong. But I had to take the chance. Valgeir owes me a favour and he persuaded Kolla to give all this the green light. Once the two uniformed guys had taken Gunnleifur away, I went down to the station, and then went back to his house to wait for whoever would show up. I waited there in one of the rooms, wondering what would happen. The rapid response guys were in an unmarked car down the street. I had practically given up hope that anything would happen, and then Magnús arrived, expecting Gunnleifur to be fast asleep, and determined to murder him. Gunnleifur is back in a cell now and the warrant to remand him in custody will be issued today. We’re going to nail him, Gísli.’

  ‘What’ll happen to Valgeir?’ Gísli asked.

  ‘I couldn’t say,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘But I imagine his investigation into Anton’s disappearance will be re-examined.’

  ‘I have to say, it’s a strange feeling, and not a pleasant one, to be under suspicion,’ Gísli said seriously. ‘But I appreciate you taking the time to talk, Salka.’

  ‘Likewise, Gísli.’

  39

  Salka parked outside the Hlíð care home and went inside.

  ‘Since you came to see her the other day, she’s hardly slept, and keeps repeating the same thing,’ said the nurse who had called Salka and asked to meet her.

  ‘What’s she saying?’ Salka asked, following the nurse to a bright communal area and taking a seat.

  ‘It’s all rather confused. She talks about funerals and pallbearers, a great weight, and that some woman was a terrible burden, and she mentions Anton. To be truthful, it’s getting irritating to listen to the same thing on a loop,’ the nurse said and smiled. ‘Then, when I came in to see her this morning, it was as if there was a new spark in her eyes. I’ve never seen her so … focused and wide awake, as if she’d had an epiphany. She asked me to fetch the church diary.’

  ‘Church diary?’ Salka asked, putting down the cup of coffee he had brought her.

  ‘This one,’ he said, handing her a dog-eared exercise book. ‘She asked me to find the 1995 book.’

  ‘And where was this book?’ Salka asked, leafing through what seemed to be a diary Fríða had kept to record timetables and her working hours.

  ‘It was in the wardrobe in her room. She has a box of oddments, and a lot of these exercise books. I found the one she had asked specially for, but when I went to ask her about it, the spark had gone and she was asleep. I had the feeling that this was important to her, and as she said you had been
asking about Anton, I thought the best thing to do was to call you.’

  Outside in the car, Salka went through the pages and found the date of Anton’s disappearance. Fríða had recorded everything faithfully, including the times taken for each specified piece of work she had done. She had been there at eight that morning to prepare for the day ahead with one of the boys. He had helped her find the right paperwork, and then she had prepared cocoa and doughnuts for the children who were supposed to be there for the ten o’clock confirmation class. An hour earlier a coffin had been delivered, ahead of a funeral booked for two in the afternoon. She had written the deceased woman’s name in the margin. At the bottom of the page she had written.

  Anton came.

  Altar candlestick missing.

  Ask Gunnleifur.

  Salka decided to go the Glerá church. She went into the open, airy lobby. The doors stood half-open into the church itself. She walked unhurriedly into the church itself. Sunshine streaming through the windows threw patches of colour onto the white walls from the stained glass windows. The roof soared high above and the lights hanging down from it reminded her of candlesticks. A simple but large wooden cross hung on the wall behind the altar.

  Salka wasn’t sure of her own feelings. The tranquillity of the place reminded her of when she had been in this church two years before.

  ‘Can I help you?’ said a voice behind her that verged on being uncomfortably pompous.

  Salka turned to see a thin, neatly turned-out middle-aged man. She hadn’t heard him enter the church, probably because he had on soft-soled slippers. He wore drab trousers and a light roll-neck sweater of a similar hue. As if that wasn’t enough, his thin hair was carefully combed and was much the same colour as his clothes.

  ‘Yes, good morning,’ she said, introduced herself and explained what had brought her there.

  ‘Old church records, you say. Strictly speaking, I should ask for permission to show you those, but as the Reverend Gunnleifur is … well, indisposed, we can do this ourselves,’ the man said with the same pompous air, having shown Salka to an office, quaking strangely with every step he took. He pulled open a drawer of a large filing cabinet. ‘I’m here in the Reverend Gunnleifur’s absence, and I’m not entirely certain where things are kept. But I’m fairly sure it should be here somewhere,’ he said, going through the folders arranged in order.