Gallows Rock - Freyja and Huldar Series 04 (2020)

by Sigurdardottir, Yrsa

  Thormar took a deep breath. ‘How often do I have to repeat it? They’re onto us. Just because they don’t know the whole story yet, that doesn’t mean they won’t find out.’ He didn’t add that he had no intention of shouldering the blame alone.

  ‘Gunni’s got a point.’ Tommi avoided Thormar’s eye as he said this, bending down to fiddle with the laces of his trainers. ‘They didn’t say a word about it at the press conference and I’ve read all the news reports. They don’t seem to know a thing.’

  ‘Oh, get real. They never disclose everything they know at press conferences. How naive can you be?’ Thormar was fed up with constantly having to bring home to them how serious the situation was. Not having been summoned to the police station like him, they found the whole thing easier to shrug off. ‘We’ve got to delete the site,’ he repeated. ‘Before they find it.’

  ‘They won’t find it. How are they going to do that? It’s a hundred per cent invisible and access is controlled as well.’ Gunni broke off as a man wearing a towel round his waist came in and went over to one of the lockers. He gave the three of them a sideways glance but seemed resigned to having to get dressed with them there. They turned away tactfully and began a random conversation about football but were too distracted to concentrate on what they were saying. When the man finally slammed his locker and headed for the exit, they picked up where they had left off.

  Thormar got in first: ‘Hasn’t it dawned on you yet that the police have Helgi’s computers?’ Neither of them said anything. ‘They’ve got an IT department. They must have. How long do you think it’ll take them to find the site once they start digging through his files?’

  Gunni sighed irritably. ‘How the hell should we know? We’re not computer experts. Anyway, isn’t the site meant to be secure? The fact they’ve got his computer probably won’t make any difference.’ He put his hands on his thighs as if about to stand up. If he left, Tommi would follow suit.

  ‘Guys.’ This time Thormar made an effort to keep the stress and exasperation out of his voice, since that approach obviously wasn’t getting him anywhere. ‘We’ve just got to accept that the site has to go. It’s been fun but personally I have to say the whole thing has lost its appeal. Is it really worth the risk, now that the police are onto it?’ He’d begun to lose interest in the site some time ago, a fact he’d never have dared admit were it not for their present predicament. In some respects their group dynamic hadn’t changed since they were boys. ‘You can’t seriously think so?’

  Tommi started to shake his head but quickly stopped, afraid that Gunni might disagree. He glanced at Gunni, waiting to take his lead from him, and, as usual, Gunni obliged. It was a pity Thormar couldn’t get him onside. If he could, Tómas would immediately fall in behind him.

  ‘Let’s just hold our horses,’ Gunni said. ‘We can always delete it if it looks like the inquiry is directly linked to the site. If it is, then – zap! – we wipe the content.’ The phone rang in his hands and he checked the screen. ‘Work. Shit. I told them—’ They never did find out what lie Gunni had told in order to slip out to this meeting. While he was talking, the others kept quiet.

  By the end of the phone call, Gunni had undergone a dramatic change of heart. ‘Delete the site.’ He thrust his phone back into the pocket of his short overcoat. ‘The police called my office and spoke to my assistant. Are they even allowed to do that?’ He searched his friends’ faces and, when neither of them answered, continued: ‘They want to talk to me.’

  Thormar hid his relief. He was no longer the only one in the police’s sights. Now that Gunni was in the firing line, his attitude had undergone a complete U-turn.

  Sounding extremely twitchy now, Gunni asked: ‘What if the murder’s connected to the website and the police manage to access it? They’ll go looking for the flat too, won’t they?’

  Thormar hadn’t thought that far. ‘Yeah, they’re bound to. They asked me if Helgi owned any other properties.’

  ‘How come? Do they already know about it?’ Gunni’s foot started drumming nervously. He cut a faintly incongruous figure in his slick, stockbroker suit and socks.

  ‘No. I got the impression they didn’t know anything concrete, just suspected its existence.’

  Tommi’s eyes widened and suddenly he looked like he used to when they were boys. ‘Hadn’t we better clean it? Destroy any fingerprints and that sort of thing?’

  The question was directed at Thormar. Since he had got them worried, apparently the problem was his responsibility. ‘I don’t know. None of us have police records, so they won’t have our prints. And I think they need a warrant before they can take them. Don’t they?’

  Nobody knew. Tommi searched on his phone and read out the laws relating to the taking of fingerprints, which did nothing to allay their concern. The police, it seemed, were permitted to fingerprint those who’d had access to a scene in order to eliminate them from their inquiries. If a person refused, he or she could be compelled to comply, on condition that a warrant was issued by a judge. Tommi added gloomily that the police’s requests for warrants were always granted, no matter what. Neither of them contradicted him or asked where he’d got this information from.

  ‘Delete it.’ Gunni waved at Thormar. ‘The prints won’t matter if the website no longer exists.’

  Instead of protesting and pointing out that Gunni had a phone and could do it himself, Thormar went online. ‘How do you delete the site, anyway? Do either of you know? You don’t have to delete every post, do you?’

  It turned out his friends hadn’t a clue either. The site had originally been set up by Helgi, who was the only one of them with any computer know-how. Thormar tried this and that but couldn’t find any way of deleting it. Then he started trying to destroy the individual posts one by one, envisaging having to postpone even more appointments, given that they’d been posting stuff on the forum for over a decade. At this rate, he might have to fake illness all day tomorrow as well. ‘If each post needs to be removed individually, we’ll have to divide up the task. I haven’t got time to do it all on my own.’

  Neither of the others volunteered to help. But it turned out not to matter since the posts refused to vanish. When he tried with the first, a small window popped up announcing that he wasn’t authorised to delete any material. Only the administrator could do that. ‘What the fuck’s this?’

  The others then tried and got the same message. Gunni was the first to think of checking the admin page and let out a loud groan. They’d all been deprived of their administrator status. Only two users now had that title: Helgi, and the person going by the username administrator.

  Gunni stood up. ‘I suggest you clean out the flat.’

  ‘Us?’ Again it fell to Thormar to voice what Tommi must be thinking. ‘Excuse me but why not you?’

  ‘Because the cops are onto me. For all I know, they might even be watching me. We don’t want to lead them straight to the address, do we?’

  Thormar checked an impulse to tell Gunni that he was almost certainly exaggerating his importance to the investigation. The fact was, it was better to have Gunni anxious than his usual reckless self. So he said nothing and he and Tommi stayed behind after Gunni had left, wordlessly changing back into their clothes before heading their separate ways. They still hadn’t come to any decision about who should clean the flat. The only thing they had agreed on was that it would have to wait until next day as neither of them had time that evening.

  Once Thormar was behind the wheel of his car, it occurred to him that maybe they could hire contract cleaners to do the job. Pay them in cash; keep their own names out of it. Spirits rising a little, he decided to run the idea past Tommi. But when he picked up his phone and saw the screen, all such thoughts were instantly dispelled. There was a message waiting on the website. His first reaction was to ignore it, but curiosity got the better of him.

  Well, boys. Which one of you wants a lift with me next?

  This was accompanied by a photo in whi
ch Thormar thought he could make out Helgi, lying on the back seat of a car, eyes shut, mouth open; asleep, probably. Wearing the same clothes he’d worn on Saturday night – and in the video of the hanging.

  Hands trembling, Thormar closed the message. When he scanned the car park, he could see no sign of Tommi or his car. Gunni had left well before them, of course. Instead of calling, Thormar put his phone back on the passenger seat and gripped the wheel, his knuckles whitening. The timing of the message had been uncanny. Was that a coincidence? Or should he face the fact that the new user might not be a stranger? Was it possible that it could be one of them?

  Chapter 26

  Huldar had called ahead and Doddi the caretaker had said he was happy to meet him and Gudlaugur whenever they liked. Although he had finished work for the day, he lived on the premises, so it was no problem for him to answer their questions or show them around. When he let them into the building, he had crumbs on his chin, suggesting they’d interrupted his supper. He invited them to his flat but Huldar declined. There was no need to inconvenience the man for long, and conversations tended to become unnecessarily drawn out when people were sitting too comfortably.

  Doddi was still sucking food out of his teeth as he showed them the lock on his office in the basement. ‘As you can see for yourselves, no one’s broken in.’

  Huldar bent down to examine the keyhole and door frame. If the lock had been picked, it must have been done by a professional. ‘Any chance that you forgot to lock it?’

  The caretaker gave a short laugh. ‘None whatsoever.’ Seeing that the two detectives were unconvinced, he added: ‘I always lock the door behind me. There are keys in there to flats whose contents are worth a fortune. And to cars that cost a bomb too. Believe me – I make sure that this door is locked at all times. Are you still wondering how the little boy got into Helgi’s flat? Haven’t you found out yet?’

  ‘We’ve received information that there was a loud disturbance at Helgi’s flat the weekend before last. As he was abroad at the time, we wondered if someone else could have got in. Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean they used a stolen key. Helgi could have lent his flat out. Assuming our information is correct.’

  ‘There was no one in his flat while he was away; not to my knowledge, anyway. And I think he’d have told me if he was going to lend it to friends or family. Though I can’t be sure, of course.’

  ‘You weren’t aware of any strange comings and goings or any noise?’

  The caretaker shook his head. ‘No, nothing like that.’

  ‘Do you do a security patrol of the building in the evenings?’

  ‘No. That’s not part of the job. I work normal hours. After I knock off for the day, I’m free. It’s a quiet building. There’s no need to patrol it like a bank or something. Though I do occasionally deal with emergency incidents out of hours if I happen to be home. Like now.’

  Gudlaugur took over the questioning. ‘Which floor is your flat on?’

  ‘The ground floor. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Helgi’s flat is eleven floors above yours. Surely there could have been a party or people staying there that weekend without your knowing about it?’

  The caretaker had to concede that this was possible. ‘Well, you’re welcome to ask the neighbours,’ he said. ‘But I’d be surprised if you didn’t get the same answers as last time.’

  Huldar considered this for a moment. On their previous visit they had asked general questions about Helgi and whether people had heard any odd noises on the night of the murder. But they hadn’t asked specifically about the previous weekend, and they had nothing to lose by interviewing the neighbours again, seeing as they were here anyway. ‘I think we’d better.’

  Nobody was home in the flat below Helgi’s. Presumably the occupants still hadn’t returned from abroad. There was no answer either at the flat of the couple who lived by the lift. But the woman who’d been there when the police had found Siggi opened the door at their knock.

  When she saw who it was, she raised a bony hand to her heart. ‘Oh, God.’ This was rather an unusual greeting, but then they were used to all kinds of reactions.

  ‘Hello. We’re from the police.’ A redundant comment, given that he was in uniform. ‘My name’s Huldar. You saw me here on Sunday. This is Gudlaugur.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ The woman said again, her face petrified. ‘Are you here about the murder? Is the murderer in the building?’

  Huldar smiled. ‘No, no, nothing like that. Don’t worry: we’re not here to warn you or anything.’

  The woman relaxed a little and lowered her hand. ‘You should have told me what had happened when you were here on Sunday. I had to learn about it from the news like everyone else. Surely witnesses are entitled to more information than the general public? And I was a witness, wasn’t I?’

  ‘Not as such, no. You saw us doing our job. I’m afraid that doesn’t count.’ Huldar’s reassuring smile was met by a stony look.

  The woman wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. ‘Was he murdered in his flat? I’m alone here. My husband’s abroad. Should I go and stay somewhere else?’

  ‘No. As the news said, the murder happened out on Álftanes. You have nothing to be afraid of.’ Huldar was losing patience. It wasn’t the first time he’d encountered this egocentric desire by members of the public to plant themselves in the middle of an unfolding crisis or tragedy. As if the whole thing revolved around them. ‘We’re here to ask you about the previous weekend, before it all happened. Were you at home then, by any chance?’

  ‘Yes, I was. I was in bed with flu.’

  Huldar allowed himself the uncharitable thought that her ‘flu’ had probably been no more than a cough and sniffle. ‘So you would have heard if there had been a noise coming from Helgi’s flat on the Saturday evening?’

  ‘Yes, if it had been loud. But I didn’t hear anything. And I was under the impression that he was abroad. I’d bumped into him in the corridor with a suitcase on the Friday.’

  ‘So, as far as you know the flat was empty?’

  ‘Yes. But now you’re worrying me again. What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s really nothing for you to be alarmed about.’ Huldar put on his fake smile again. ‘We just have to follow up various possible leads as part of the inquiry. As there’s nothing else, I’ll just say good day and thanks for your help.’

  The woman wasn’t about to let them go so easily. ‘But …’

  Huldar waited. When she didn’t go on, he prompted: ‘Have you remembered something?’

  ‘Nothing recent, no. Helgi seemed like the perfect neighbour. But what do we really know about the people we only run into in passing? When he first moved in, I was very concerned.’

  ‘Oh?’ Gudlaugur cut in. ‘Why was that?’

  ‘Because not long after he moved in, a madman got into the building and started banging on Helgi’s door. He made such a racket I thought he was going to break it down. I peered outside to see what was going on.’

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue. I closed my door immediately and rang the caretaker, who came and removed him. Helgi wasn’t there: he was abroad as usual. I thought maybe the man had been looking for the previous occupants as they were much less respectable. Afterwards, I learnt from the caretaker that the man had got the wrong address. That seemed the most likely explanation to me.’

  Once it was clear that she had nothing to add, they were able to escape from her and return downstairs, where they tracked down the caretaker. The sound of a television was coming from his flat. After declining another invitation to come in, Huldar asked him straight out about the incident described by Helgi’s neighbour. It was the first clue linking the victim to any sort of trouble and, however vague, it was worth following up.

  ‘Oh, that nutter,’ Doddi said. ‘I threw him out. He got into the building by leaning on the bells until someone buzzed him in. After that, we sent round a reminder to the residents to be more care
ful about who they let in, and I’m happy to say we haven’t had any further incidents.’

  But Huldar wasn’t interested in the house rules: ‘Do you know what the man wanted to see Helgi about?’

  ‘Nothing, as far as I could tell. He was just a nutter. You couldn’t reason with him. All I could get out of him was that he wanted to beat Helgi up. Why, I’ve no idea. I don’t think he really knew himself. He was literally foaming at the mouth with rage. Couldn’t get the words out. I managed to drag him to the lift and escort him out of the building. He cooperated in the end because I lied that I’d called the police. Just as well – I’d have been no match for him if he’d decided to resist.’

  ‘Did you ask Helgi about it?’

  ‘Of course I did. As soon as he got back. Helgi was a new resident and, frankly, I was a bit worried about what kind of person they’d allowed into the building. I didn’t like the idea that this sort of thing might start happening regularly. All I could think of was that the man must have been a debt collector, but of course that didn’t make sense. You don’t make a down payment on one of these flats if you’re too broke to pay off your dealer. Anyway, I’m sure Helgi wasn’t the type to do drugs. When I told him what had happened, he was bewildered. I’m a good judge of character and there was no way he was faking it. He obviously hadn’t a clue who it could have been. In the end, we agreed that it must have been a case of mistaken identity. That the man had got the wrong Helgi. And since that was the last we saw of him, I assumed we were right and thought no more about it.’

  Huldar pulled some folded photocopies from his coat pocket. ‘This is the man who let the boy into the flat.’ He handed the caretaker a printout of the best still they’d managed to capture from the security recordings. All it showed was part of the man’s profile, with the scarf obscuring everything below the eyes, and his forehead partly hidden by a hood and the baseball cap he was wearing underneath it. ‘Is that him? By our calculations, the man in the picture must be between five foot ten and six foot tall.’