‘Should we talk to her brothers?’ Huldar asked Erla, but before she could answer, Lína pre-empted her:
‘One’s abroad studying – the younger brother. The other’s on a trawler and has been away at sea for three weeks. So they’re unlikely to have anything to do with the murders.’
‘Did the mother know Margeir or Sigurlaug?’ For once, Erla didn’t react to Lína’s interruption with irritation but sounded as if she genuinely wanted to know.
‘No. I asked her that and she said she didn’t.’
‘What about the father, Thórdur? Did he recognise the names?’ Huldar asked, though he thought he already knew the answer to this. If he had, Lína would have told them so immediately.
‘I haven’t been able to get hold of him. They’re divorced and Maren’s mother said they aren’t in touch any more. He’s registered as based in Akranes but she said she’s heard he’s actually living in town. He’s only got a mobile number registered in his name but isn’t picking up his calls. Shall I carry on trying to get hold of him?’
‘No. You take over, Huldar. It’s better if a man talks to him.’
Huldar noticed that Lína seemed hurt by this. ‘What’s Thórdur’s number, Lína?’ Of course, she knew it by heart and reeled it off for him. Huldar keyed it into his phone. As he entered the last digit, his phone informed him that the number was already assigned to a contact. Under the name of Doddi.
The phone number belonged to the caretaker in Helgi’s building.
Chapter 32
Although the police had made careful preparations for the arrest of Maren’s father Thórdur, aka Doddi, they had overlooked one thing: the timing. They turned up at 5 p.m., just as the residents of the building were coming home from work, with the result that there was a steady stream of cars into the basement garage and of people wandering into the lobby to fetch their post. The lift was constantly on its way up or down. None of this was ideal for the arrest of a potentially violent suspect. If, as they feared, he had already committed two, possibly three, murders, the risk was that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill again.
The sun was setting in a cloudless sky and the tower block cast a cold shadow over the car park, making Huldar shiver. With no breeze to blow the fumes away, the air was tainted with pollution from the commuter traffic on Sæbraut. He was almost looking forward to entering the building.
The plan was that Huldar and Gudlaugur should go in and speak to the man, since they had handled all previous communication with him. Erla was hoping they would be able to get him to admit enough to justify an arrest. The moment this happened, they were to cuff him. Not a minute before. The fact that he was Maren’s father didn’t constitute sufficient grounds for arrest, not even when combined with the fact that he worked as the caretaker in Helgi’s building. The top brass would come down like a ton of bricks on Erla if it emerged that this was just one of those Icelandic coincidences; the inevitable consequence of living in a small society, and that the police had, for no good reason, arrested the grieving father of a girl who’d taken her own life.
Huldar and Gudlaugur had been ordered to don bulletproof vests over their uniforms and conceal them with oversized jumpers. As a result, their bulky top halves and spindly legs made them look like body-builders who’d neglected to work on their thighs and calves.
Their uniforms were intended to unnerve Thórdur by bringing home the gravity of the situation. But no one explained why the vests were necessary, and Huldar suspected that they were mainly for reassurance rather than protection. The caretaker had never applied for or been granted a firearms licence, making it unlikely that he would pull a gun on them. Huldar couldn’t help wondering how much protection the body armour would provide against other weapons, especially since these vests didn’t last forever and the ones the department owned were looking a bit battered. After all, this guy had proved resourceful – he’d already used a nail gun against somebody. But he avoided sharing these concerns with Gudlaugur as the young man was stressed enough. It was the first high-risk arrest he had been involved in, apart from handcuffing drunk and disorderlies on weekend shifts when he was in the regular police. Although that kind of arrest could be hazardous, it was usually carried out on the spot, not preceded by a nerve-racking wait.
‘You OK?’ Huldar laid a hand on Gudlaugur’s shoulder and studied his face. His objective assessment was that the younger man would get through it all right. His main fear was that Gudlaugur would let the cat out of the bag prematurely, before they’d finished interviewing Thórdur. They were hoping they’d be able to arrest him without the use of force, and that all their precautions would prove unnecessary.
‘I’m good.’ Gudlaugur squared his shoulders. ‘Is it time?’
Huldar nodded. He was wearing an earpiece and had just heard Erla give the order to go in. Gudlaugur was wearing one too, but the plan was that she would only communicate directly with him if Huldar was unable to respond for some reason. He sincerely hoped it wouldn’t come to that. They were both miked up as well, so that those in charge of the operation could listen in. If Erla deemed it necessary, she would give the word to the back-up team waiting in the wings. Everyone was hoping this wouldn’t be needed. There was always a chance that Thórdur would prove as cooperative as he had hitherto, but they weren’t betting on it. People were highly unpredictable when cornered.
‘We’re going in,’ Huldar said aloud for Erla’s benefit. The vehicles where she and the back-up team were waiting had been parked out of sight in case the suspect happened to pass through the lobby.
‘Are you sure we’ll be able to hear each other down in the basement?’ Gudlaugur had meant this for Huldar’s ears only but Erla answered immediately, saying that it should work. Huldar thought he heard a hint of doubt in her voice. But perhaps that was just the poor sound quality.
Huldar rang the bell marked Caretaker. While they were waiting, he wondered if he would have cottoned on sooner if it had said Thórdur instead, but to be honest he doubted it. So many names had cropped up in the course of the inquiry. The first time Lína had mentioned Maren Thórdardóttir, he hadn’t really taken in her patronymic.
Gudlaugur shifted from foot to foot beside Huldar, then raised his hand as if to ring the bell again but Huldar put out an arm to stop him. They’d only rung it once on their last visit and they didn’t want to give the impression of being on edge. After a few moments, the caretaker’s voice was heard over the intercom. He asked who it was and Huldar told him. This was followed by a silence that didn’t bode well, but then the lock buzzed and they opened the door.
Huldar headed straight for the caretaker’s flat, with Gudlaugur close on his heels, but before they could reach it, the lift doors opened behind them and the caretaker called out to attract their attention. Huldar and Gudlaugur turned, trying to act normally. They exchanged brief greetings and shook the man’s hand – a hand that had in all likelihood fired a nail into a man’s chest before cold-bloodedly pushing him to his death.
‘I was down in my office,’ the caretaker explained. ‘What can I do for you? Is there any news?’
‘Yes, there is actually, but obviously we can’t talk about it.’
Thórdur nodded. At that moment a man came barging in from the entrance hall, carrying two shopping bags and a briefcase. Registering Huldar and Gudlaugur’s presence with surprise, he asked the caretaker if there had been a break-in. When Thórdur assured him there hadn’t, the man’s curiosity was roused and he demanded to know what was going on. Huldar informed him it was connected to an inquiry that he needn’t worry about, after which the man disappeared into the lift. When another resident breezed in immediately afterwards, it was difficult to decline the caretaker’s invitation to continue their conversation in his office in the basement. As Huldar accepted, he heard Erla groan in his ear.
They descended the stairs without speaking.
The instant they entered the office, Huldar realised it was a bad move. The space was far too cramp
ed for them to react effectively if the caretaker tried anything. It wasn’t his own or Gudlaugur’s safety he was concerned about; it was Thórdur’s. If they were forced to restrain him, the man was bound to collide with the furniture. This was an unwelcome prospect, not because he gave a damn if Thórdur got hurt but because of the inevitable inquiry it would trigger. The incident would have to be investigated, involving endless meetings, reports and sessions in which he and Gudlaugur would be interrogated about their actions. And to make matters worse, they were on their own: Huldar hadn’t been able to hear Erla breathing in his ear since they reached the bottom of the stairs, so it was unlikely that a recording would be available to support their statements.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have any coffee. Would you like me to go and fetch some?’ The caretaker leant on the back of his office chair. Now he came to think of it, Huldar reckoned Thórdur was about the height of the man who had been with Siggi in the CCTV recording. His build and movements were similar too, and Huldar could have sworn his eyes were the same. But he dismissed the thought; there would be plenty of time to review the footage later.
‘No, thanks.’ Sensing that the muscles of his face were clenched unnaturally tight with anger, Huldar took out a piece of nicotine gum and stuck it in his mouth. It was difficult to wear any particular expression when you were chewing. ‘You didn’t come down to the station yesterday. I asked you to drop by so we could take your statement, remember?’
‘Oh, yes. I’m sorry.’ The man seemed relieved that this was the reason for their visit. ‘I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had a minute. It didn’t occur to me that it was that urgent. I’ll definitely drop by tomorrow, though. Or did you want me to come this evening?’
Huldar would have liked a moment’s breathing space to consider this offer. Would it be better to get Thórdur down to the station, then put pressure on him once he was confined in the interview room? The decision was entirely up to him since no help could be expected from his earpiece. He chewed his gum, thinking furiously, before finally having to give an answer: ‘We need to confirm your statement as soon as possible. But our urgent priority right now is to track down the pregnant woman.’
‘I understand. Unfortunately I can’t help you with that.’ The caretaker’s eyes slid away from Huldar’s. ‘Are you any closer to finding her?’
‘Yes.’ Huldar launched into the story he had rehearsed with Erla. ‘It may come as a surprise to you to hear this, but it appears Helgi wasn’t the nice guy you took him for.’
‘Oh?’ Unlike Huldar, the caretaker had had no opportunity to rehearse, so his attempt at surprise rang hollow. ‘In what way?’
‘Don’t spread it about, but it appears he was in the habit of videoing himself having sex – without the knowledge of the women involved. That’s why we’re here. We need to enter his flat to make sure Forensics didn’t miss any hidden cameras in his bedroom.’
The caretaker slapped his thigh in a pretence of astonishment so hammy that if it had been up to Huldar – and if the actions of the police weren’t so closely scrutinised – he would have arrested the man on the spot. But bad acting wouldn’t count as sufficiently compelling evidence of guilt. ‘You’re joking!’ Thórdur said. ‘Of course I’ll let you in. Do you want to go up there now?’
‘In a minute. Tell me first, have you been aware of young women visiting Helgi’s flat? We thought you might have forgotten to mention the fact.’
‘No, absolutely not. I’d have told you if I had.’
‘Quite sure? They were all blonde. Slim, long hair, all real stunners.’
‘No – like I said, I’d have told you.’
Huldar nodded, still chomping away on his gum. ‘He treated those women appallingly. The way he abused their trust was despicable.’ When the man didn’t react, Huldar added: ‘Have you got a daughter yourself?’
The caretaker drew a sharp breath. ‘No.’
‘Never had one?’ There was silence in the enclosed space. Huldar decided to crank up the pressure, deviating from the script he had been given. Sometimes you had to play it by ear and, besides, it was unlikely Erla could hear him. ‘I don’t have any kids myself but I can imagine what a terrible shock it would be if someone mistreated my daughter. Especially if it was the kind of man who thinks he only has to snap his fingers to get everything he wants. We’re inclining to the view that Helgi’s murder is linked to this little quirk of his. That he was made to pay for what he’d done to one of those young women. I can’t say that I regard it as a justification for killing him, but, like I said, I’m not a father, so I can’t put myself in a parent’s shoes. I do have five sisters, though, and I wouldn’t react too well if I heard that their trust had been violated like that.’ Huldar paused, at a loss how to continue, but eventually decided to chance it: ‘Does the name Maren mean anything to you?’
The man was silent, his eyes lowered. Then he said, without looking up: ‘The hole. That was what they called Maren. To Helgi and his mates she was nothing but a hole for them to poke.’
Huldar felt the adrenalin begin to surge through his veins. But he was disconcerted; he hadn’t been expecting this reaction. It was unusual for suspects to confess so willingly. Instinct warned him that something was wrong and his hands moved to his belt, unobtrusively closing on his truncheon and canister of pepper spray. But Thórdur showed no signs of trying anything on. Instead, he started speaking again, his voice level:
‘I was hoping I’d get one more day. To tie up a few loose ends. But it sounds as if there’s no chance of that.’ He raised his head. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’
Their orders had been to keep the man sweet at all costs, so they agreed to go with him and he led them to the back of the underground garage, well away from all the parked cars. There he stopped in front of a door next to the one marked Rubbish Store. A nauseating stench reached their noses while Thórdur was fumbling for the right key on his bunch. Huldar, who had become a bit of a connoisseur after sifting through all that trash with Lína, registered that the smell seeping out from under the door was different in quality.
When the caretaker finally opened the door, Huldar’s instinct proved right. The stench from what turned out to be the boiler room was not caused by rotting food or other rubbish.
Erla would have done better to forget the back-up team and request an ambulance instead.
To Huldar’s intense frustration there was no gum left in the packet he was fiddling with under the table. The fact shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him as he’d had few opportunities to grab a smoke that day. He tried to calm his agitated nerves by promising himself that he would smoke three cigarettes in a row as soon as the interview with Thórdur was over. It wouldn’t be long now.
He shouldn’t even be here. Erla had been intending to conduct the interview with another officer, believing correctly that Huldar was too tired and strung out after the events of the day. But he had been fed up when she picked Jóel instead of him, feeling that however tired he was, he was still a far better detective than that idiot. In the event, though, their relative merits weren’t put to the test because Thórdur refused to say a word unless Huldar was present. Jóel had been forced to leave the interview room with his tail between his legs. As they passed each other in the doorway, Huldar was filled with schadenfreude, which lent him a temporary burst of energy. Jóel rammed him in the ribs with his elbow as he passed, hissing, ‘Just you wait.’ Usually his threats were empty but this time Huldar had the uneasy feeling that there was something more behind it. Perhaps that was just the effects of exhaustion and nicotine deprivation.
Thórdur’s lawyer looked at his watch. ‘Are we done here? My client has answered all your questions clearly and without prevarication, and I can’t see what purpose sitting here any longer will serve. Do you actually need to ask him anything else?’
Erla, acting as if she hadn’t heard, asked Thórdur to run through the sequence of events again in chronological order.
&n
bsp; Thórdur coughed and sighed heavily. At first he had seemed glad of the chance to unburden himself, but the endless repetitions had robbed his voice and manner of any last vestige of relief. ‘Five years ago my daughter was found dead,’ he began again tonelessly. ‘They thought it was suicide. She’d been suffering from depression since her teens and had made one previous, rather half-hearted attempt to take her own life. She’d been doing better, though. The last time we saw her she was looking really well and seemed to have got a grip on her life, so what happened came as a complete shock. But we just had to accept that we must have misinterpreted the signs. We were living in Norway then, so we thought maybe she’d managed to trick us, pretending to be in a better state than she really was. Anyway, we flew straight home and tried to cope with our grief as best we could. Shortly after the funeral, I came to the police station to fetch her things, because she’d left her bag, coat and shoes behind on the shore where they reckoned she’d walked into the sea. I went through her phone searching for any clues about what had happened that night but couldn’t find anything. Nothing except a picture she’d taken after becoming separated from her friend. All it showed was the headboard of a very ordinary-looking bed. Nothing else.’
Huldar recalled the video and Maren’s drunken attempt to take a selfie. Having seen how out of it she was, he wasn’t surprised to hear that she’d missed herself completely and only managed to snap the headboard.
Her father continued: ‘Since the post-mortem revealed that she’d had sex the night she died, I assumed the bed had something to do with that. But no one came forward to admit that they’d been with her that night. It wasn’t exactly surprising, but I was a bit disappointed that the police weren’t prepared to check the CCTV footage to identify the man Maren went home with.’
Gallows Rock - Freyja and Huldar Series 04 (2020) Page 29
