The knife found at the recycling depot was in a box in the interview room and Doddi recognised it immediately. The police pathologist confirmed that it could well be the murder weapon.
Elinborg was in another interview room with Anton. The boys” statements matched in all the main details. Doddi had stolen the knife, and the initiative when it came to satisfying their destructive urge had largely been his.
“How did the knife end up in the recycling bin?” Elinborg asked Anton, who had been extremely cooperative ever since arriving at the police station.
“I don’t know,” Anton replied.
“Did you use it to attack Elias?”
“No,” Anton said. “I didn’t touch him.”
“Why did you throw the knife away?”
“I didn’t.”
“What about your mate, Doddi?”
“I don’t know. He had the knife last.”
“He says you had it.”
“He’s lying.”
“Did you know the knife was used to kill Elias?”
“No.”
“Do you know Niran, Elias’s brother?”
“No, not at all, except that he’s at my school. I don’t know him at all.”
In the other interview room similar questions were being flung at Doddi who claimed that Anton had had the knife last.
“How long is it since you took the knife from the carpentry workshop?” Sigurdur Oli asked.
“About ten days or …” Doddi thought. “Yeah, something like that. It was straight after the Christmas holidays.”
“Where did you last see it?”
Anton took it home with him.”
“He says you had it”
“He’s lying.”
“Do you know who Elias was?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know him?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Did you stab him to death?”
“No.”
“Did you stab him to death with the knife that you stole from the carpentry workshop?”
“No. I didn’t do anything.”
“Why did you scratch those cars?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“We were bored.”
In the other room, Elinborg stared at Anton for a long time without saying a word, then rose to her feet. She had been sitting still for too long and her whole body ached. She leaned against the wall and folded her arms.
“Where were you when Elias was attacked?” she asked.
Anton could not give a clear account of his whereabouts. At first he said he had been at home, that he had gone straight home from school. Then he suddenly remembered that he had gone to a computer-games shop with Doddi.
“You will both be charged with Elias’s murder,” Elinborg said. “You had the knife, you killed him.”
“I didn’t,” Anton said.
“What about your friend?”
“There’s no way he did either.”
“What’s your attitude to immigrants, foreigners, coloured people?”
“I don’t know.”
Doddi hesitated when asked a similar question. Sigurdur Oli repeated the question but Doddi just stared at him without answering. Sigurdur Oli asked a third time.
“I don’t have any attitude to them,” Doddi said at last. “I don’t give them any thought”
“Have you attacked any immigrant kids?”
“No, never,” Doddi said.
Neither he nor Anton had ever been in trouble with the law. Anton’s mother was a single parent with two children, who struggled to make ends meet on her meagre wages. Anton had a three-year-old half-brother. He saw his father briefly once a month or so. Doddi had two full siblings and a half-sister. He told them that his father, who had little to do with him, was a foreman on the Karahnjukar dam project.
“Why did you attack Elias?” Sigurdur Oli asked.
“I didn’t.”
“We’re going to charge you with Elias’s murder,” Sigurdur Oli said. “We have no other option.”
Doddi stared at him and it was clear from his expression that he fully grasped the implications of what Sigurdur Oli was saying. He was quite a tough nut. Sigurdur Oli had often questioned teenage boys who did not give a shit about anything or anyone and answered back with jeers and even threats against the police. He sensed that there was more to Doddi. He was not yet a hardened case. The vandalism of the cars was a brainless stunt but no more than that. At least for the time-being.
“He gave away the knife,” Doddi said.
“Gave it away?”
“I stole it but Anton had it last and he gave it away. I didn’t know it had been used in the murder. And I’m sure he didn’t either.”
Elinborg was still leaning against the wall with arms folded when Sigurdur Oli entered the interview room. He sat down in front of Anton and stared at him for a long time without saying a word. Elinborg refrained from asking any questions. Anton became restless, squirmed in his chair and fixed his gaze on Sigurdur Oli and Elinborg in turn. He was extremely uneasy.
“Do you know a boy called Hallur?” Sigurdur Oli asked.
Elinborg was leaving the interview room shortly afterwards when her mobile rang. It took her some time to work out who was on the other end but at last she came up with an image of the flamboyant tie belonging to the PR guy from the insurance firm where someone had been making calls to Sunee.
“I’ve been involved in a major investigation on your behalf,” the PR man said gravely.
“Really?” Elinborg said.
“Yes, really. I’ve spoken to a number of people here at the firm, all in confidence of course, and none of them is in a relationship with that woman, as far as I can tell.”
“No?”
“No. At least, nothing that can be confirmed.”
“What about unconfirmed?”
“Well, there are rumours about one man.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know him. He’s in his late forties and has worked in the claims department for years. The girls say he’s dating an Asian woman.”
“Which girls?”
“The customer service reps. Someone spotted him at a nightclub about a month ago. He was with one of those women.”
“One of what women?”
“Thai, maybe.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“No.”
“Good. What’s his name?”
“The girls want to know if he’s connected in any way to the mother of the boy who died.”
“Tell them to mind their own business!”
26
Erlendur drove slowly past the house, parked several doors down and got out of the car. He walked unhurriedly back towards the house, looking around warily. He saw the junction with Styrimannastigur and the large wooden building that had once been the Seaman’s College after which the road was named. The insurance company employee lived in a pretty wooden house clad in corrugated iron. It had been lovingly restored from what Erlendur could see from where he stood in the cold, studying the house. Lights were on in two of the windows. The street was quiet and Erlendur feared that he would be too conspicuous as he strolled back and forth. He wanted to proceed with caution.
It was late. Snow was falling, the wind had picked up and a major blizzard was forecast. The radio had warned people not to leave anything unsecured outside and to avoid going out unless absolutely necessary. Roads were already closed in rural areas in the wake of the storm that was now heading towards the city.
Erlendur was still brooding over the identity of the woman who had been phoning him and what she could have wanted. He couldn’t figure it out and only hoped that she would make contact with him one more time. She had to give him another chance. He was conscious that there was not much likelihood of this happening but at least he now knew how to react should he ever hear from her again.
He was about to cross the road to the house when the base
ment door opened and a figure appeared in the rectangle of light. It was very small and Erlendur thought that it might be Niran. He could not see its face, which seemed to be obscured by something. The figure was wearing a windcheater and a baseball cap with a large peak. It closed the door carefully and headed down the street towards the town centre. Erlendur followed a little way behind, unsure what action to take. He noticed that the figure had a scarf bound over its face so that only its eyes were visible. It was holding something but Erlendur could not see what.
The figure bowed its head and set a course straight for the town centre. It was Saturday evening, the clubs and restaurants were all open and a number of people were about. The figure unfolded what it was holding, revealing it to be a large plastic bag. It approached a litter bin and looked inside, rooted around in it briefly, then moved on. Two beer cans lying under a bench disappeared into the bag, then the figure moved on to the next litter bin. Erlendur watched this behaviour. The figure was collecting used bottles and cans. It moved silently and purposefully, as if it had done this many times before, as unobtrusively as possible, largely unmarked by passers-by.
He followed its movements around the town centre for some time. The bag soon began to fill up. Erlendur came to a corner shop, stepped inside and bought two cans of some soft drink. When he came out again he emptied the cans into the gutter, then walked up to the figure who had paused by a litter bin in a small alleyway off Austurvollur Square.
“Here’s a couple,” Erlendur said, holding out the cans.
The figure looked at him in astonishment, the scarf completely obscuring its face, the baseball cap pulled down over its eyes. The figure accepted the cans hesitantly and put them in the bag, then immediately made to move on again without saying a word.
“My name’s Erlendur,” he said. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
The figure stopped and looked searchingly at Erlendur.
“I only want to talk to you, if that’s all right,” Erlendur said.
The figure backed away, without replying.
“Don’t worry,” Erlendur said, moving closer.
The figure tensed, poised to run, but apparently reluctant to abandon the bag half full of bottles and cans, and this gave Erlendur a chance to seize hold of its jacket. The figure tried to hit him with the bag and tear itself loose but Erlendur held on tight with both hands. The figure struggled in his grasp but could not get away. Erlendur spoke to it reassuringly.
“I’m trying to help you,” he said. “I need to talk to you. Do you understand?”
He received no answer. The figure tried with all its might to break free but Erlendur was strong and it could not get away.
“Do you understand Icelandic?”
The figure did not answer.
“I don’t want you to do anything stupid,” he said. “I want to help you.”
No answer.
“I’m going to let you go,” Erlendur said. “Don’t run away. I need to talk to you.”
He gradually relaxed his hold and finally released the figure who immediately took to its heels. He chased it a few steps and saw it run across the square. As he watched it go, wondering if he had any chance of catching up with this light-footed person, his quarry began to slow down and finally stopped under the statue of the independence hero, Jon Sigurdsson. It turned and looked at Erlendur who stood motionless, waiting to see what would happen. A long time elapsed until finally the figure began to walk slowly back towards him.
On the way it removed its baseball cap, revealing thick, black hair, and when it reached him it untied the scarf from its face so that he could see who it was.
Hallur sat between his parents, insisting that he knew nothing about the wood-carving knife that Anton claimed to have given him. The police had found his full name and address in the school register. He was acquainted with Doddi and Anton, who were the same age as him but in a different class. He did not know them well, however, as he was new to this part of town. His family had moved into the area about six months ago. Hallur was an only child, quite short, with a mane of unruly dark hair covering his eyes. He repeatedly flicked his head whenever his fringe blocked his view. He was very calm and looked wide-eyed at Sigurdur Oli and Elinborg in turn.
His parents were very eager to please. They were not at all annoyed at being disturbed so late in the evening by Sigurdur Oli and Elinborg. They chatted about the crazy weather that had been forecast and the mother offered the detectives coffee. They lived in a two-storey detached house.
“I expect you’re talking to lots of children from the school,” the mother said. “On account of that ghastly business. Are you getting anywhere with your inquiries?”
The father regarded them in silence.
“We’re making progress,” Elinborg said, her eyes on Hallur.
“We thought you’d probably call round,” the woman said. “Aren’t you talking to all the kids at the school? Do you know anything about this knife, Hallur dear?” she asked her son.
“No,” Hallur said a second time.
“I’ve never seen him with a knife,” she said. “I can’t imagine who could have told you that Hallur has this knife. I . . . it’s rather shocking when you come to think of it. I mean, that people can make wild accusations like that. Don’t you think?”
She looked at Elinborg as if they women should stand together.
“Still, it’s not as bad as having your child stabbed to death,” Elinborg said.
“We have no reason to disbelieve the testimony of the boys who told us,” Sigurdur Oli said.
“Do you know anything about these boys, Doddi and Anton?” the woman asked her husband. “I’ve never heard of them. We ought to know all Hallur’s friends.”
“They’re not his friends,” Sigurdur Oli said. “Though one of them, Anton, wants to be his friend. That’s why he gave Hallur the knife and delayed telling us about it for as long as possible. Isn’t that right?” he asked, looking at Hallur.
“I don’t really know Anton,” Hallur said. “I don’t know many people at school”
“He’s only been there since the autumn, since we moved,” his mother said.
“You moved, when, last summer?”
“Yes,” the mother answered.
“How have you settled into your new school?” Elinborg asked.
“You know,” Hallur said. “Fine.”
“But you don’t have any friends there … ?”
The question dangled in the air.
“He’s adjusted very well,” the woman said at last, looking at her husband who had not contributed anything to the conversation as yet.
“Have you changed schools often?” Sigurdur Oli asked.
Hallur looked at his mother.
“About three times,” he said.
“But this time we’re staying put,” the woman added, directing another glance at her husband.
“Anton said you were with another boy when he met you and gave you the knife,” Sigurdur Oli said. Anton didn’t know him and said he wasn’t at the school. Who was this boy?”
“He didn’t give me any knife,” Hallur said. “He’s lying.”
Are you sure?” Elinborg asked.
Anton had confessed under cross-examination to having given Hallur the knife. A boy he had never seen before had been with Hallur at the time. Hallur was new to the school and kept a fairly low profile, though Anton said that he had once been round to see him at that big house. According to Anton, Hallur had talked candidly about his parents, describing his mother as an appalling snob, who was constantly interfering, a total control freak. His parents were forever in financial difficulties; once their house had even been repossessed, yet this did not seem to prevent them from living in some luxury. Hallur had the biggest collection of computer games Anton had ever seen.
He didn’t know why Hallur wanted the knife, unless perhaps because it was stolen. Hallur saw him with it and when Anton told him that Doddi had stolen it from the carpentry
workshop, Hallur suddenly became very keen to acquire it. They met round at Anton’s. Hallur brought along another boy the same age but Anton did not know his name.
“You went round to Anton’s,” Sigurdur Oli said. “You gave him a computer game, he gave you the knife.”
“That’s a lie,” Hallur said.
“There was a boy with you at Anton’s place,” Elinborg said. “Who was he?”
“My cousin was with me.”
“What’s his name?”
“Gusti.”
“When was this?”
“I don’t remember, several days ago.”
“His name’s Agust, he’s my brother’s son,” the woman said. “He and Hallur spend a lot of time together.”
Sigurdur Oli noted down the name.
“I don’t know why Anton’s claiming he gave me the knife,” Hallur said. “He’s lying. It’s his knife. He’s just trying to frame me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you tell us where you were last Tuesday afternoon when Elias was stabbed?” Elinborg asked.
“Is this really necessary?” Hallur’s father asked. “You’re talking to him as if he’s done something wrong.”
Arctic Chill de-7 Page 27
