‘What, was the National Society of Jerks holding a meeting?’
Huldar grinned. He had taken Ríkhardur along to the interview and regretted it the moment he saw the square-looking type waiting in the corridor of the police station. Like Ríkhardur, he was wearing a suit and in their company Huldar had felt like a hippy straight out of Woodstock. As if the guy’s smooth appearance hadn’t been bad enough, he had turned out to be insufferably obnoxious too. The man had wiped the chair before sitting down and made a face every time he replied to a question. His eyes kept travelling distastefully around the room as if he expected to see lice jumping out at him from the corners. ‘No, as it happens. But it wouldn’t surprise me to hear he was chairman, secretary and treasurer, all rolled into one.’
Freyja thawed visibly. ‘What was his alibi?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to say. But it’s rock solid.’ Huldar didn’t want to mention that the man with whom she had until recently been cohabiting had gone out for dinner with his new live-in girlfriend. He added, a little shyly: ‘You’re well shot of him.’
That seemed to do the trick. ‘Would you like to sit down?’ Freyja waved a hand towards the small living room. ‘I’m just going to see if Margrét’s recovered.’
Huldar passed the heavy metal poster he had noticed last time. Having met her ex, he was confident it wasn’t a relic of her previous relationship. You wouldn’t catch that guy listening to anything but refined classical music. He resolved not to ask her about it or say anything that could be misconstrued or make her uncomfortable. He was determined to watch his step now that he had been given a second chance.
Well, sort of.
She hadn’t exactly welcomed him with open arms; all she’d done was invite him to take a seat on a dirty, threadbare sofa with the stuffing bulging out in several places. He left plenty of room in case she wanted to sit beside him, and tried to relax. For a while he focused on two colourful cardboard cartons on the coffee table, one empty, the other half full of melted ice-cream. Then, tiring of this, he let his gaze wander over the floor until it encountered a block of parquet that didn’t seem to have been properly fitted. By the time Freyja entered the room he had been staring at it so long that the straight lines of the block were beginning to bend.
‘There’s no reasoning with her, poor thing.’ Freyja flopped down in the chair facing him.
‘I’m sorry. It didn’t cross my mind. I’d never have done it if I’d known she was at the window.’ Huldar was careful not to gaze too intently at Freyja. He kept dropping his eyes to the cartons on the table, then realised this might make him appear nervous or just plain weird. ‘Would you like me to talk to her, to explain or apologise?’
‘No, absolutely not,’ Freyja replied too quickly and vehemently. She tried to take the sting out of her words by adding: ‘She’s afraid of you as it is. It’s only natural – she’s not herself. Better leave her alone for a while. You weren’t intending to stay long, were you?’
‘No, of course not.’ Huldar pointed at the floor. ‘Unless I can try my hand at mending that block. I do sometimes undertake the odd spot of DIY.’ He smiled warily.
Freyja didn’t seem to know how to take this. ‘You’re not touching the floor, Jónas,’ she said, deadpan.
‘All right. I promise.’
‘Was there anything else apart from the attack on Molly?’
‘Yes, actually, though it involves her too.’ He swallowed. ‘I mentioned that the message wasn’t sent from your ex’s phone.’ She nodded apprehensively. ‘It came from the same phone as the texts sent to the second victim. It looks like it was the killer. That’s why I wanted to test the guard. Seeing how that turned out, I’m not sure what to do. But one thing’s certain: Margrét can’t stay here.’
‘Where’s she to go then? Surely not to her grandparents? It wouldn’t be hard to track her down there.’
‘We’re looking for a solution. I’m going to add a second officer to the guard for the evening and night shifts. If it’s OK with you, I’d rather one was posted inside; he could sit in here so he wouldn’t be in your way.’
‘I sleep on this sofa, so I’m afraid he would definitely be in the way.’
Huldar sensed she was holding something back. ‘What?’
‘Oh, I was just wondering what’ll happen to me when Margrét leaves. Presumably the police car will leave then too. But what if the murderer thinks she told me something?’
‘I can keep a car parked outside. But I’m not sure we’ll be able to spare two officers.’
‘Forget it then.’ Freyja looked anything but happy. Two deep, bracket-like furrows appeared between her eyes. He memorised the sign, in case their paths crossed again after the investigation was over, unlikely though that seemed.
‘No way. I’ll take care of it myself if no one else is available. At night, I mean. I need to spend the day trying to hunt down this bastard. If I succeed, there’ll be no need of police protection, for you or Margrét.’
‘Please do. But forget about sleeping in the car outside. I can look after myself.’ Freyja put her hands on the arms of the chair, preparing to stand up. ‘Was there anything else?’ The brackets were still there.
Huldar’s phone rang in his pocket, preventing his reply. He took it out, in spite of a rather dirty look from Freyja, and his stomach lurched again when he saw that it was Karlotta. He switched off the call.
‘Aren’t you going to answer?’
‘No.’ Best say as little as possible. A scream from the bedroom rendered further words unnecessary.
Freyja stood by the living-room window, phone held to her ear. She parted the blinds. On the other side of the garden she could see the dancing beams of torches where police officers were searching for the person Margrét claimed to have seen skulking out there. Huldar was outside too but naturally she couldn’t tell his torch from the others. Unless his was the beam bouncing most frenetically of all in the darkness.
The reason the incident was being taken so seriously was the girl’s insistence that it was the same man as the one she had seen watching her home in the weeks before the murder. Though whether they should put any faith in that was doubtful.
Freyja listened in silence to her brother’s angry tirade. It was best to let him blow off steam.
‘Police car? Parked outside? Four guys from the building have already called me about it and I’m telling you they are seriously pissed off. I assured them there was no way it could have anything to do with you. Now what am I supposed to tell them?’
‘The truth. That the car is here because of me. But it’ll probably be gone by tomorrow like I said.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? I need to watch my reputation. I can’t risk people thinking I’m in cahoots with the pigs.’
‘You aren’t.’
‘Are there cops in the flat too?’
‘No.’ Luckily it was true at that moment, but it wouldn’t be long before the search was over and Huldar returned. He would probably demand to sleep on the sofa tonight and she’d end up sharing the bed with Margrét. Although Freyja didn’t relish the thought of coming face to face with him when she woke up, nor did she want to risk having the murderer break in with no one there to protect them.
‘You should have trusted me. Don’t you think I can take better care of you than the pigs can? For fuck’s sake.’ Baldur paused to draw breath. ‘Believe me, I can.’
‘I do believe you, Baldur. It’s not me they’re looking after; it’s the girl. I’ve already told you that.’
There was a long silence.
‘Freyja. Promise not to freak out.’
‘Freak out? Why should I freak out?’
‘There’s a gun in the flat. I want you to sleep with it beside you. Keep it in your bag during the day. Don’t carry it around in your pocket or people’ll notice.’
‘A gun? Are you crazy?’ Freyja dropped the blinds again. Her voice dropped to a whisper for fear Margrét would overhear. ‘Jesus
Christ, where is it?’
‘In the living room. There’s a loose floorboard with a cavity under it. I keep it there. Promise me you’ll take it.’
Freyja paled as her eyes fell on the uneven parquet. What would have happened if she’d accepted Huldar’s offer? If he demanded to stay over he might well try and repair the floor in a misguided attempt to get into her good books. She would have to remove the gun before he came back. ‘Baldur, I’ve got to go. I’ll check out the gun, I promise. Don’t worry about me.’
‘I won’t. I know you’re going to be OK.’
Freyja hung up and hastily fetched a screwdriver to lever up the block. She reflected on Baldur’s parting words. What exactly did he mean? How could he be so sure she wasn’t in any danger? She knelt down and set to work.
Chapter 29
The girl looked as though she had just woken up but her jaws were working away vigorously, emitting loud smacking noises through her open mouth. They were treated to frequent glimpses of noxious pink bubblegum. The label above the doorbell said ‘Linda’. In place of a second name, a small pink heart-shaped sticker had been applied, slightly askew, by a careless hand.
Karl suspected it was the girl herself who had done it; her slovenly appearance indicated a disregard for detail. Her bleached hair was yellow rather than blond and the dark roots had been allowed to grow unchecked. She had scraped it back in a greasy ponytail, revealing a high, shiny forehead covered in pimples. Below it, the two coal-black eyebrows might have been drawn on with a marker pen.
Her hand kept wandering up to her forehead and rubbing the coarse skin, drawing attention to the dark blue nail varnish that had begun to flake, showing the dirt underneath. Her clothes were in keeping with the rest of her appearance; well overdue a wash, but the thin T-shirt barely concealed a pair of incongruously perky, voluptuous breasts. It took all Karl’s self-discipline to look her in the eye, and even then his gaze kept slipping downwards. Börkur, less polite, subjected her bust to an unblinking stare.
Linda didn’t seem to notice. She stretched out the pink gum, winding it round a grubby thumb, and pushed it back into her mouth with a loud pop. ‘Who? Halli? Does he live here?’
‘Yes. In the room diagonally opposite you.’ Karl pointed to the plain door that looked indistinguishable from the other eight in the corridor. The doors led to the kind of cheap, unlicensed rental accommodation for which there was a huge demand. ‘He’s tall. With dark hair.’
‘Dark hair?’ It sounded like a question, as if the concept was foreign to her. Perhaps her desire to be blond was so all-consuming that she had forgotten any alternative existed. She shook her head. ‘Nope. I dunno who you’re talking about.’
Karl tried in vain to remember any distinguishing feature of Halli’s that might jog the girl’s memory. ‘He wears a black leather jacket. Rides a bike.’
The girl’s face lit up in a wide smile. Her teeth, which were large and white, improved her appearance no end. ‘Oh! The bike guy. Why didn’t you say so?’ Instead of waiting for an answer she frowned suspiciously. ‘Why are you looking for him? Are you debt collectors?’
‘God, no. I’m a friend of his. I need to get hold of him. He’s not answering his phone.’
‘Oh. Have you tried knocking on his door?’
The question was so daft that even Börkur raised his eyes incredulously to the girl’s face. Karl answered as patiently as he could. ‘I’ve already tried. Didn’t you hear the racket?’
Linda shook her head. ‘Nah. I was listening to music. You know.’ She tugged at one of the white earbuds that hung around her neck. It emitted a shrill buzz of music. ‘I saw his bike yesterday though.’
‘But not him?’ Karl and Börkur had spotted his bike when they arrived. It was sticking out from under the staircase that led to the upper floors where the rooms were located. Other floors appeared to be rented out as office space to small companies, most of which didn’t seem to have much of a turnover, judging by the way their owners had made do with sticking a sheet of paper bearing the company’s name on the door.
‘No. Not that I remember.’ Linda was becoming bored with the interrogation. She craned her neck to peer down the corridor, apparently checking to see if there were any more of them. ‘I saw him the other day though. I admired his new coat. It was fierce.’
‘Er, are you sure it was him?’ Börkur finally found his voice, while keeping his eyes trained on her breasts. ‘He always wears the same jacket.’
Karl waited for confirmation of his suspicion that she had remembered wrong or misunderstood. Halli was so skint he had trouble scraping the money together for a cinema ticket let alone a new coat. Especially a fierce one. But Linda was adamant. ‘Yeah. It was him. I asked what he paid for it because I want one like that. I was hoping it was on sale but no such luck. It was definitely him.’
Karl saw that there was no point pursuing this. ‘If you see him, could you maybe let him know we’re looking for him? Ask him to give Karl or Börkur a call.’
‘Oof, I’ll never remember that. But I’ll try.’ Linda folded her arms over her breasts, ruining Börkur’s view. Frowning again, she leant backwards a little as if planning to retreat by degrees into her room. With her face in shadow it was easy to see how she might look passable by the dim lighting of a bar or club. ‘Are you sure you’re not here about money? I’m not helping any debt collectors.’
Karl couldn’t help smiling. ‘Do we look like debt collectors?’ Their combined weight wouldn’t add up to that of a single steroid troll. ‘We’re his mates. He’ll be glad to hear we wanted to get hold of him. I promise.’
‘OK.’ She still wasn’t entirely convinced. ‘The thing is, I’ve seen this bloke hanging around outside his place a couple of times at least. He was waiting by the door and he didn’t look like he was there for fun. I thought maybe he’d sent you two.’
‘Did you talk to him at all?’
‘God, no. He wasn’t the type you’d say hello to.’ Linda furrowed her brow and thought hard. ‘He was wearing a baseball cap and kept his head down both times I came by so I couldn’t see his face. But it was obvious he didn’t want to chat.’
‘Do you know if he got hold of Halli?’
‘Nah, haven’t a clue. I just went into my room and locked the door.’
Karl failed to extract any further information from her. They said goodbye and she closed her door without replying. They tried knocking on several other doors but no one opened, although they could hear movement inside three of the rooms. Going by Halli’s description of the tenants, they were mostly either people who had fallen on hard times or foreign migrants who lived hand to mouth on irregular, badly paid cash-in-hand work. Presumably none were expecting a visit from anyone they wanted to see.
Karl had one last go at banging on Halli’s door, so violently this time that the other doors in the corridor vibrated. Nothing happened. He tried the handle but of course it was locked. As he was about to leave his gaze fell on the worn doormat. A cloud of dust rose when he lifted it. Underneath was a key.
‘Are you going to use it?’ It was impossible to tell from Börkur’s expression whether he was in favour of this. ‘Isn’t that breaking in?’
Karl shrugged. ‘We’re not breaking anything. We’ve got a key. I’m just going to take a look inside and check he’s not lying there injured or unconscious.’
‘Unconscious? Why would he be injured or unconscious?’ For the first time a flicker of anxiety crossed Börkur’s face. He had only accompanied Karl in the first place because he lacked the initiative to refuse or come up with an alternative suggestion.
‘How am I to know how he could have injured himself? I just want to check. To make sure.’
The room contained a bed, a small kitchen counter with an electric ring and cupboard, a wonky wardrobe with one door missing and a desk that was too large for the space. There was also a tiny bathroom containing a shower, sink and loo.
Halli had invited Karl round a coup
le of times so he was prepared for most of what he saw: the rubbish littering all the surfaces; old instant noodle packets, Coke cans and sweet wrappers lying around a small waste-paper bin where Halli had chucked them across the room and missed. The rumpled duvet hanging half off the bed. And next to the bed countless scrunched-up tissues and an open porn mag. Karl looked away, directing his attention instead at the desk that in contrast to the rest of the room was almost free from clutter. The only things on it were Halli’s computer, some Coke cans and an empty popcorn bag. There were two dust-free rectangles beside the computer.
Börkur peered over Karl’s shoulder. He seemed unmoved by what he saw. ‘He’s not here.’
‘No, he’s not here. Nor’s his transceiver.’
‘You what?’ Börkur shoved Karl aside to get a better view. ‘Hey, you’re right. His gear’s gone.’ He took a step backwards. ‘Could he have been robbed? I wouldn’t put it past the types living in this building.’
Karl groaned silently. ‘Of course he hasn’t been robbed or they’d have taken his computer.’ Though now that he came to look at it closely, he realised this wasn’t necessarily the case. In place of the expensive computer that had been here last time he visited, there was an ancient machine with hardly enough memory to run the clunkiest game. Presumably this piece of junk had replaced the turbo equipment the police had confiscated. ‘He must have sold his transceiver. That explains how he could afford a new coat. Maybe he did it so he could buy a new computer too.’ After taking one last glance round the room, Karl shut the door.
Börkur gaped at him. ‘Why didn’t he tell us? He said the equipment was broken, didn’t he? So he can’t have sold it. Mine isn’t working and I know I’d get nothing for it unless I had it repaired first, which would cost money.’
Karl replaced the key under the mat. ‘He was lying. The radio was working. He’s flogged it.’
‘Why? Like we’d give a shit?’
‘Search me.’ In fact, Karl had his suspicions. One of the reasons Halli had kept quiet about it might be that the disappearance of his equipment was linked to the genesis of the numbers station. Had he been behind it all along? Alone or in collusion with somebody else? And, if so, who?
The Legacy Page 32
