The Legacy

by Yrsa Sigurdardottir

  A phone call to the Post and Telecom Administration had confirmed that the shortwave broadcasts Karl mentioned had taken place. The member of staff Huldar spoke to was eager to help him get to the bottom of the mystery since they themselves had been trying to discover where the broadcasts were coming from after they received a complaint from Reykjavík’s domestic airport. Apparently the frequency had been too close to the one assigned for communications with aircraft, resulting in interference on the channel. They’d had no success in tracing their origin, however, because the broadcasts had been too brief and irregular. The person responsible had had the sense not only to go off air in between broadcasts but to switch off the transmitter as well. The complaint had taken a while to reach the authorities, however, and shortly afterwards the problem had gone away with the cessation of the broadcasts. Nevertheless the man was very curious to know where they had come from since it was extremely unusual, in fact unprecedented, to encounter an Icelandic numbers station. It seemed that no one else apart from Karl and his friend Börkur had been aware of its existence.

  Huldar’s mobile rang and his foot ceased its twitching. He answered Ríkhardur’s call after moving away from the conference table. ‘I can’t talk now. I’m at the Children’s House – something’s come up. Can I call you back later?’ His words came out sounding terse, not helped by the necessity of whispering. He didn’t dare leave the room in case Freyja finally guided the conversation round to the murder.

  ‘Of course. Is there a new case?’ Ríkhardur sounded eager. There was nothing else to look forward to; no prospect of another major investigation any time soon.

  ‘No. I’ll fill you in afterwards.’ Huldar heard Freyja ask Margrét if she felt up to talking about what had happened to her mother. ‘Got to go. Catch you later.’

  ‘Should I come along? Who else is there?’

  ‘Erla’s not here, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ Huldar spoke quickly. ‘Nearly done here. I’ll be back at the station shortly. Wait for me, if you can.’ He ended the call without giving Ríkhardur a chance to respond. Margrét had said yes to the question. Huldar didn’t bother to sit down again but took up position at the end of the table. Pretending not to notice him, Sigvaldi shifted almost imperceptibly closer to the glass.

  ‘I’m quite sure it wasn’t that man. The man at the hospital.’ Margrét fiddled with a stretchy bracelet on her wrist. ‘Are there prison-hospitals?’

  ‘No, not in Iceland. Though in other countries they have big prisons that might have hospital wards for prisoners who are ill. But I don’t think there’s any such thing as a prison-hospital.’

  ‘Then it’s a good thing he’s not the bad man. Daddy says he’ll have to stay in hospital forever. All his life. So he won’t be able to go to prison. I want the man who hurt Mummy to go to prison.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what we all want.’

  ‘The bad man doesn’t.’

  ‘No, apart from him.’ Freyja ran a hand over her hair. She was wearing it loose as she had at the last interview, her blondlocks resting on her shoulders. ‘Since you’re sure it wasn’t the man who’s ill, who do you think hurt your mummy?’

  ‘The man in the shoes.’

  ‘The man in the shoes?’ Freyja tapped lightly on the concealed microphone at her bosom to warn Huldar that now they were getting somewhere. Perhaps she was afraid he might have dozed off. ‘Can you describe him a bit better? After all, most people wear shoes.’

  ‘He was at your flat. He said he’d been in the garden. But he was in my house too. I saw him from under the bed. I saw his shoes. I remember them.’

  ‘Do you remember who pulled you out from under the bed, Margrét? In the morning? That was him.’

  ‘Yes.’ The girl didn’t seem quite as sure of herself.

  ‘That was a long time after the man who hurt your mummy had left.’

  ‘Yes.’ Margrét seemed to have lost interest in the conversation. She took off her bracelet and started stretching it between her fingers. ‘But he was the one who hurt Mummy too. They were the same shoes. I know. I saw them.’ She paused, then repeated, ‘I saw them.’

  Huldar stooped to the microphone. ‘Would you mind asking what exactly the man said about her father? It’s absolutely crucial.’ He ignored Sigvaldi’s look of horror.

  ‘Margrét. What did the man say about your daddy when he claimed it was his fault?’

  At first it appeared Margrét wasn’t going to answer. Then she sat up, leant towards Freyja and started whispering. As she was right beside the hidden microphone, her words could be heard more clearly than before. ‘Don’t tell anyone.’

  ‘I can’t promise that, Margrét.’

  Huldar groaned. Couldn’t Freyja simply lie?

  ‘I don’t want anyone to know.’

  ‘Sometimes people need to know things. Even if they’re bad or nasty. Sometimes they’re not as bad as you think.’

  ‘This is very bad. Daddy did a very bad thing. But I don’t think he meant to.’

  ‘I’m sure he didn’t. And what the man said might not have been true. Perhaps he was making it up. If you don’t tell anyone, you’ll never find out if it was true.’

  Margrét deliberated again. Then she whispered to Freyja, fortunately loud enough for the microphone to pick up every word: ‘The bad man said Daddy had killed his baby. It was Daddy’s fault he was going to hurt Mummy. Suck out her life like Daddy sucked out his baby.’ Margrét sat back again, her face twisted in sadness and revulsion. ‘I think it must have been by mistake. Don’t you?’

  Sigvaldi emitted a peculiar snorting, gurgling noise that went on and on.

  Huldar rested his knuckles on the table and bent his head for a moment, eyes screwed shut, grinding his teeth. It fitted. Then he raised his head so quickly he felt dizzy. With trembling fingers he fished the nicotine gum from his trouser pocket and shoved two pieces in his mouth for good measure.

  In the report about objects missing from the police property office Huldar had recognised a number of familiar items. These had included a black motorcycle helmet, a mobile phone, a glass-cutter and a set of suction cups. Eight rolls of duct tape were missing from a box that had been full. The phone and tape were part of a haul of stolen goods uncovered during a house search. The phone had contained a prepaid SIM card that had not been traced. It was a cheap model and as nobody had reported it stolen, no attempt had been made to find the owner. No one had reported the theft of the tape; the shop it came from hadn’t bothered to notify the police subsequently when the USB sticks turned out not to be missing after all, perhaps in case this reduced the insurance payout. The glass-cutter and suction cups had been confiscated when a burglar was caught mid break-in. The helmet related to an old drugs case and had never been claimed as its owner was still behind bars.

  When Huldar looked up the burglary of Karl’s mother’s house on the system, it wasn’t the incident itself that caught his attention. A few minor possessions had been taken and the house owner was described as upset but also as behaving rather oddly; the police officer who investigated the break-in had thought she seemed chiefly interested in him.

  The police database also contained information about the investigation of illegal downloads in which Halli had been involved. Again, it wasn’t the crime itself that drew Huldar’s attention but the identity of the officer who had taken the most active role in the raid. The same officer had investigated the burglary at Karl’s mother’s house: Ríkhardur.

  At first Huldar had been puzzled. It was most uncharacteristic of his colleague not to mention that he’d had prior dealings with two parties in a murder case. It went against all their training, so there must have been some mistake.

  Without stopping to think, Huldar had phoned Karlotta. She didn’t sound particularly pleased to hear from him but seemed to sense that it was serious and soon stopped demanding to know what was going on and started providing succinct answers to his questions.

  He asked her if Ríkhardur kne
w or had any connection to Ástrós, Elísa or Sigvaldi. It emerged that he didn’t know any of them. But Karlotta did.

  Ástrós had taught her biology in the sixth form.

  Sigvaldi had been her gynaecologist.

  When Huldar pressed her about whether Sigvaldi had made a mistake or damaged her in a way that meant she might not be able to have children, she had interrupted to ask how important this was; his questions were becoming pretty personal. Then, after a brief silence, she confided that Sigvaldi had been the doctor who examined her, then approved and performed an abortion at her request, without making her specify the reason. So her last pregnancy had not ended in a miscarriage as she and Ríkhardur had claimed.

  Karlotta didn’t want the child and had aborted the foetus. Ríkhardur hadn’t found out until it was too late.

  Stunned by the implications, Huldar had been unable to speak. In the end she had told him the reason, without his having to ask. What she said came as such a bolt from the blue that he began to wonder if he was imagining their conversation. But Karlotta went on to tell him about the letter that had precipitated the whole thing and how Ástrós and Karl’s mother were involved.

  ‘Sigvaldi,’ Huldar mumbled, his mouth full of gum. ‘Say goodbye to Freyja for me and thank her for doing this, but tell her I had to leave.’

  The man couldn’t hide his relief at being deprived of Huldar’s company. ‘OK, will do.’

  Huldar sat outside in his car for a long time, leaning on the steering wheel and trying to clear his head. It wasn’t until he heard the front door slam that he sat up, started the car and drove off. He didn’t want to have to acknowledge Sigvaldi and Margrét as they walked past. The man would no doubt be puzzled as to why he hadn’t left yet. In his rear-view mirror he saw them walking away from the house, side by side. They weren’t holding hands.

  He hadn’t gone far when his phone rang. It was Freyja. ‘I’ve got something to tell you. You’d gone by the time Margrét and I finished, but I was going to use the opportunity to confess something that may be important.’

  ‘If it’s to do with the report or what Margrét said, there’s no need. It seems we were barking up the wrong tree, so the case is wide open again.’

  ‘No. It has nothing to do with the report or Margrét.’

  He was perplexed. ‘OK.’ It was all he could say. He realised he simply couldn’t face confronting Ríkhardur yet, let alone his boss Egill or the others to whom he would now have to break the unwelcome news. He hadn’t a clue what order to approach them in or how he should act. ‘I’ll turn round.’

  ‘I promise it won’t take long. I’d be glad of a chance to make a clean breast of things and I’d prefer not to have to come down to the station.’

  Huldar thought. This would give him a reprieve. And you never know, with her psychological training she might be able to advise him on how to confess to his mistakes and incompetence without coming across as a complete idiot. No need to tell her the whole sorry tale; he could set it up as a hypothetical problem. ‘I’ll be there in two minutes.’

  To avoid rousing Ríkhardur’s suspicions, Huldar sent him a text to say he’d been held up. His erstwhile friend answered almost immediately, asking if there was any more news. Huldar made himself reply, though every letter stung, saying there was no news and he would be back shortly. His screen went dark and didn’t light up again. Apparently Ríkhardur was satisfied. For now.

  Chapter 35

  ‘Everyone’s gone home. I’ve switched on the alarm upstairs, so we’ll have to make do with this – I won’t keep you long.’ Freyja showed Huldar into the examination room. For a moment she wondered if she was doing the right thing; the man seemed ill, he was so pale, silent and distracted. She only hoped any germs he might carry in here would die overnight, but perhaps it would be sensible to wipe down everything he touched before she left.

  The only chairs were uncomfortable and differed in height; one was an office chair, the other an adjustable stool on wheels for the doctor to use when examining children. Freyja ushered Huldar to the office chair, while she towered over him on the stool, which felt a bit odd, but at least it meant he didn’t have to look at the table. It was a grim piece of equipment, a gynaecological examination table designed for children, which violated every instinct. He felt bad enough at this moment without being reminded of the revolting crimes to which some children were subjected.

  ‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’

  He must be coming down with some bug, she thought; perhaps he already had a fever. His voice sounded rough and unfriendly. Freyja couldn’t help wondering if it had been a mistake to believe she could trust him. Could she invent some other business instead? But what he said next reassured her.

  ‘If I seem a bit strange it’s because I’ve been knocked sideways by something that’s happened. Please don’t take it personally.’

  She gave a short laugh. ‘Don’t worry. I thought you might have flu.’ It was a relief that there would be no need to disinfect everything once he had left. She was eager to go home and Molly was waiting. Freyja hoped the dog hadn’t chewed the heels off the pair of new shoes she had forgotten to hide. ‘All I wanted to say is that I know who it was in the garden – the man you thought was stalking me. He’s not connected to the murder case.’

  ‘Was it your ex?’ Huldar seemed completely uninterested.

  ‘No.’ Freyja shook her head. ‘I’ve got a brother who’s … strayed from the straight and narrow, let’s say. He hired a man to keep an eye on me because he thought I was in danger. Due to a complete misunderstanding, he was afraid my ex wanted to get even with me. And just to make it clear, it wasn’t me who gave him that idea. He thought of it all by himself.’

  Huldar exhaled heavily like a man about to expire from stress. ‘I know who your brother is.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was curious. I didn’t think your address fitted your circumstances, so I checked whose name the flat was registered in. Our database showed that you share a mother, so it wasn’t difficult to work out.’ He lowered his eyes to the floor as he continued: ‘I’m familiar with his history. I recognised the name and looked him up in our records. I even had the honour of arresting him myself once. Years ago.’

  ‘I see.’ Freyja couldn’t bring herself to ask what for.

  ‘Of course, the dog’s name should have given the game away.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Who calls their dog Molly? Not a psychologist from the Children’s House, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Is there something wrong with the name? What are you on about?’

  ‘You mean you don’t know? It’s the street name for MDMA – the active ingredient in Ecstasy.’ Huldar added wearily: ‘Never mind.’

  ‘Oh.’ Freyja blushed. Why had it never occurred to her? She hurriedly steered the conversation back to the point. ‘Anyway, at least you needn’t waste any more time wondering if the man in the garden was the murderer.’ She wished she could lean back on the stool; her bag was weighing heavily on her shoulder but she didn’t dare put it down for fear Huldar would spot the gun. She had been intending to ask him to dispose of it for her, without revealing where it came from, but obviously that had been a bad idea. He would immediately link the weapon to her brother, and she couldn’t trust him. ‘That was all.’

  Huldar held her gaze and Freyja forced herself not to drop her eyes or betray any other sign of deceit. Sometimes it came in useful to have studied human behaviour. ‘I don’t quite understand.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘Couldn’t you have told me that over the phone?’

  ‘Yes. I suppose I could.’ She smiled in embarrassment. ‘I just wanted to talk to you face to face. For all I know your phone calls may be recorded. I have no desire to discuss my brother with the police, as I’m sure you’ll understand. I made an exception in your case. In view of the circumstances.’ She cut herself off. When lying, it was best to say as little as possible; let him put her down as the excessive
ly cautious type. It irked her that she wasn’t quite indifferent to what he thought of her.

  ‘For your information, we don’t record all our calls.’

  ‘Thanks, that’s good to know.’ It was all she could think of to say. She heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive and although she didn’t relish the prospect of having to stay on at work, the distraction came as a relief.

  ‘Are you expecting someone?’

  ‘No.’ Freyja rolled the stool over to the window and peered through a gap in the blinds. ‘It seems to be for you.’

  ‘For me?’

  ‘Well, it’s a police car, and they usually give us advance warning. We don’t run an emergency reception here.’

  Huldar had joined her at the window without her noticing. They watched a man step out of the car. Freyja, who had never seen him before, was surprised to see a figure like that emerge from a police vehicle. He was so sleek and tastefully dressed that he looked more like a banker. Apart from his regulation black police footwear – like the shoes Huldar wore. Before walking up to the house, he paused to run both hands over his neatly coiffured head.

  ‘Shit. Shit. Shit.’ Turning away from the window, Huldar glanced around frantically. They heard the front door open, then close quietly. Huldar whispered in Freyja’s ear. ‘Hide in the cupboard.’ In the house’s former incarnation this had been a wardrobe but now it was used to store disposable gloves and other medical equipment. ‘Don’t ask any questions. Just hide. I’ll explain later. Everything’ll be fine.’

  Freyja was about to say she didn’t expect any different but read from his expression that it would be wiser to shut up and obey. While she was finding a space for herself among the stacks of small, white cardboard boxes, she was grateful they hadn’t recently replenished their stocks. Even so, it was pretty cramped inside the cupboard; she couldn’t move without bumping into something, and if she did, she would betray her hiding place. Her main fear was that her bag would slip off her shoulder and knock over one of the stacks of boxes. She pulled the cupboard shut as Huldar opened the door to the passage. Through the thin wood she heard him call ‘Ríkhardur!’ She made an effort to breathe calmly and noiselessly, then tuned in to what Huldar and the stranger were saying.