They crawled out from underneath him. Sigurdur Óli held a handkerchief to his nose to try to stop the bleeding. Ellidi was given a third electric shock and was finally still. The warders handcuffed him and, with great difficulty, lifted him up. They were going to take him out but Erlendur asked them to wait a moment. He went up to Ellidi.
"Which other one?" he asked.
Ellidi showed no reaction.
"Which other one that he raped?" Erlendur repeated.
Ellidi tried to smile, dazed by the electric shock, and a grimace moved across his face. Blood had run from his nose down into his mouth and his false teeth were bloody. Erlendur tried to conceal the eagerness in his voice, as if he couldn't care less what Ellidi knew. He tried not to make himself vulnerable. Tried not to show any expression. He knew that the slightest weakness made the heart of men like Ellidi pound, turned them into real men, gave them a purpose in their pitiful illusion of life. The slightest deviation would be enough. An eager tone in his voice, a sign in his eyes, a movement of his hands, a hint of impatience. Ellidi had managed to throw him off balance when he mentioned Eva Lind. Erlendur wasn't going to give him the pleasure of grovelling now.
They looked each other in the eye.
"Take him out," Erlendur said and turned away from Ellidi. The warders were about to lead the prisoner away but he stiffened and wouldn't budge when they tried to move him. He took a good, long look at Erlendur as if mulling something over, but eventually he gave in and allowed himself to be led from the room. Sigurdur Óli was still trying to stop the bleeding. His nose was swollen and his handkerchief was dripping with blood.
"That's a nasty nosebleed," Erlendur said and examined Sigurdur Óli's nose. "Nothing else though, nothing serious. There are no cuts and your nose isn't broken." He pinched it tight and Sigurdur Óli let out a shriek of pain.
"Oh, maybe it is broken, I'm no doctor," Erlendur said.
"That fucking bastard," Sigurdur Óli said. "That fucking bastard."
"Is he playing around with us or does he really know about another woman?" Erlendur said as they left the hall. "If there was one more perhaps there were others that Holberg raped who never came forward."
"There's no way to talk sense to that man," Sigurdur Óli said. "He was doing it for his own amusement, winding us up. He was playing with us. You can't trust a word he says. That jerk. That fucking jerk."
They went to the governor's office and gave him a brief report of what had happened. In their opinion, they said, the only place for Ellidi was a padded cell at a psychiatric ward. The governor agreed wearily, but said the only recourse available to the authorities was to keep him at Litla-Hraun. This wasn't the first time Ellidi had been confined to solitary for violence in the prison and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
They went out into the open air. As they were driving away from the prison and waiting for the big blue gate to the car park to open, Sigurdur Óli noticed a warder racing after them, waving to them to stop. They waited until he caught up with the car. Erlendur wound down the window. "He wants to talk to you," the warder said, panting from running.
"Who?" Erlendur asked.
"Ellidi. Ellidi wants to talk to you."
"We've talked to Ellidi," Erlendur said. "Tell him to forget it."
"He says he's going to give you the information you want."
"He's lying."
"That's what he said."
Erlendur looked at Sigurdur Óli, who shrugged. He thought about it for a moment.
"Okay. We'll come then," he said eventually.
"He just wants you, not him," said the warder, looking at Sigurdur Óli.
Ellidi wasn't let out of his solitary cell again, so Erlendur had to talk to him through a small hole in the door. It was opened by sliding a panel to one side. The cell was dark, so Erlendur could not see in. He could only hear Ellidi's voice, hoarse and gurgling. The warder had led Erlendur to the door and then left him alone.
"How's the poofter?" was the first thing Ellidi asked. Instead of standing up at the hole in the door, he had retreated inside. Maybe he was lying on the bed. Maybe he was sitting up against a wall. Erlendur felt as if the voice was coming from deep inside the darkness. He had obviously calmed down.
"This isn't a tea party," Erlendur replied. "You wanted to talk to me."
"Who do you reckon killed Holberg?"
"We don't know. What about Holberg?"
"Her name was Kolbrun, the chick he did in Keflavík. He often talked about it. Talked about how close he was to getting caught when that pussy was stupid enough to press charges. He described all the details. Do you want to hear what he said?"
"No," said Erlendur. "What was your relationship with him?"
"We met up now and again. I sold him booze and bought porn for him while I was on the ships. We met when we were working together for the Harbour and Lighthouse Authority. Before he started lorry driving. We went into the towns together. You never get a lost fuck back. That was the first thing he taught me. He knew how to talk. Impressive. Good at talking women round. A fun bloke."
"You went into the towns?"
"That's why we were in Keflavík. We were painting the Reykjanes lighthouse. Fucking awful ghosts there. Ever been there? Screeching and howling all night. Worse than this shithole. Holberg wasn't scared of ghosts. He wasn't scared of anything."
"And he told you straightaway how he'd assaulted Kolbrún, when he'd only just met you?"
"He winked at me when he followed her out of the party. I knew what that meant. He could be a charmer. He thought it was funny to get away with it. Laughed a lot at some cop the girl went to and ruined her case for her."
"Did they know each other, Holberg and this cop?"
"I don't know."
"Did he ever talk about the daughter Kolbrún gave birth to after the rape?"
"Daughter? No. Did he get her pregnant?"
"You know about another rape," Erlendur said without answering him. "Another woman he raped. Who was it? What was her name?"
"I don't know."
"So why did you call me back?"
"I don't know who it was but I know when it was and where she lived. More or less. That's enough for you to find her."
"When? And where?
"Yeah, right, what do I get?"
"You?"
"What can you do for me?"
"I can't do anything for you and I don't want to do anything for you."
"Sure you do. Then I'll tell you what I know."
Erlendur pondered.
"I can't promise anything," he said.
"I can't stand being in solitary."
"Was that why you called me back?"
"You don't know what it does to you. I'm going mad in this cell. They never put the light on. I don't know what day it is. You're kept here like an animal in a cage. They treat you like a beast."
"And what, you're the Count of Monte Cristo!" Erlendur said sarcastically. "You're a sadist, Ellidi.
The worst sort of psychopath and sadist there is. A dumb idiot who likes violence. A homophobe and a racist. You're the worst type of retard I know. I don't care if they keep you locked up in here for the rest of your life. I'm going upstairs to recommend just that."
"I'll tell you where she lived if you get me out of here."
"I can't get you out of here, you idiot. I don't have the authority to and, even if I did, I wouldn't. If you want to cut your solitary short perhaps you should stop attacking people."
"You could do a deal on it. Say you wound me up. Say that poofter started it. I was cooperative, but he was making smart-arse remarks. And I helped you with your enquiries. They'll listen to you. I know who you are. They'll listen to you."
"Did Holberg talk about any others apart from those two?"
"Are you going to do that for me?"
Erlendur thought about it. "I'll see what I can do. Did he talk about any others?"
"No. Never. I only knew about those two."
"Are y
ou lying?"
"I'm not lying. The other one never pressed charges. It was in the early '60s. He never went back to that place."
"What place?"
"Are you going to get me out of here?"
"What place?"
"Promise!"
"I can't promise anything," Erlendur said. "I'll talk to them. What place was it?"
"Húsavík."
"How old was she?"
"It was the same sort of job as the one in Keflavík, only more ferocious," Ellidi said.
"Ferocious?"
"Don't you want to hear it?" Ellidi said, unable to conceal his eagerness. "Do you want to hear what he did?"
Ellidi didn't wait for an answer. His voice poured out through the hole in the door and Erlendur stood there, listening to the hoarse confession coming from the darkness.
Sigurdur Óli was waiting for him in the car. As they drove away from the prison Erlendur gave a short account of his conversation with Ellidi but kept quiet about the monologue at the end. They decided to look at the register of people who lived in Húsavík in the years around 1960. If the woman was a similar age to Kolbrún, as Ellidi had implied, it was just possible she could be found.
"And what about Ellidi?" Sigurdur Óli asked when they were back in the Threngslin Pass on their way to Reykjavík.
"I asked if they'd reduce his solitary confinement and they refused. There was nothing else I could do."
"You kept your promise at least," Sigurdur Óli smiled. "If Holberg raped those two, couldn't there have been more?"
"There could have been," Erlendur said vacantly.
"What are you thinking about now?"
"There are two things that bother me," Erlendur said. "I'd like to know precisely what it was that the little girl died of." He could hear Sigurdur Óli heave a sigh beside him. "And I'd like to know if she was definitely Holberg's child."
"So what's puzzling you about that?"
"Ellidi told me Holberg had a sister."
"A sister?"
"Who died young. We need to find her medical records. Look for them at the hospitals. See what you can come up with."
"What did she die of? Holberg's sister?"
"Possibly something similar to Audur. Holberg mentioned something about her head once. Or that was how Ellidi described it. I asked if it could have been a brain tumour, but Ellidi didn't know."
"And how does that help our case?" Sigurdur Óli asked.
"I think there could be a kinship connection," Erlendur said.
"Kinship? What, because of the message we found?"
"Yes," Erlendur said, "because of the message. Maybe it's a question of kinship and heredity."
15
The doctor lived in a town house on the west side of the Grafarvogur suburb. He no longer held a regular medical practice. He welcomed Erlendur at the door himself and showed him into the spacious hallway that he used as an office. He explained to Erlendur that he now did occasional work for lawyers on cases of disability assessment. The office area was simply furnished, tidy, with a little desk and typewriter. The doctor was a short, rather thin man with sharp features. He had a sprightly manner about him. He carried two pens in the breast pocket of the shirt he was wearing. His name was Frank.
Erlendur had phoned beforehand to arrange an appointment. The afternoon was wearing on and it was beginning to get dark. Back at the station, Sigurdur Óli and Elínborg huddled over a photocopy of a 40-year-old register of the inhabitants of Húsavk which had been faxed to them by the local government office in the north. The doctor asked Erlendur to sit down.
"Isn't it just a pack of liars who come to see you?" Erlendur asked, looking around the office.
"Liars?" the doctor said. "I wouldn't say that. Some of them, undoubtedly. Neck injuries are the most tricky. You really can't do anything but believe patients who complain of neck injuries after a car accident. They're the most difficult to handle. Some feel more pain than others but I don't think there are many who aren't genuinely in a great deal of discomfort."
"When I phoned you remembered the girl in Keflavík immediately."
"That sort of thing's difficult to forget. Difficult to forget the mother. Kolbrún, wasn't that her name? I understand she committed suicide."
"It's a bloody tragedy from start to finish," Erlendur said. He wondered whether to ask the doctor about the pain he felt in his chest when he woke up in the mornings, but decided this was not the time. The doctor was bound to discover he was fatally ill, send him to hospital and he'd be playing the harp with the angels by the weekend. Erlendur tried to avoid bad news whenever possible and, as he didn't expect to hear any good news about himself, he kept quiet.
"You said it was to do with the murder in Nordurmýri," the doctor said, snapping Erlendur back to reality.
"Yes, Holberg, the murder victim, may have been the father of the girl in Keflavík," Erlendur said. "The mother claimed so all along. Holberg neither confirmed nor denied it. He admitted having sex with Kolbrún so rape couldn't be proved against him. Often there's very little evidence on which to base that kind of case. We're investigating the man's past. The girl fell ill and died in her fourth year. Can you tell me what happened?"
"I don't see how that could have anything to do with the murder case."
"Well, we'll see. Could you answer my question please?"
The doctor took a good long look at Erlendur.
"It's probably best for me to tell you straight-away, Inspector," the doctor said, as if steeling himself for something. "I was a different man at that time."
"A different man?"
"And a worse one. I haven't touched alcohol for almost 30 years now. I'll be honest about this up front, so you don't need to put yourself to any more bother, I had my GP licence suspended from 1969 to 1972."
"Because of the little girl?"
"No, no, not because of her, though that would have been ample reason in its own right. It was because of drinking and negligence. I'd rather not go into that unless it's absolutely necessary."
Erlendur wanted to let the matter rest there, but couldn't restrain himself.
"So you were drunk more or less all those years, you mean?"
"More or less."
"Was your GP licence reinstated?"
"Yes."
"And no other trouble since then?"
"No, no other trouble since then," the doctor said, shaking his head. "But, as I say, I wasn't in a good state when I looked after Kolbrún's girl. Audur. She had head pains and I thought it was child migraine. She used to vomit in the mornings. When the pain got worse I gave her stronger medication. It's all rather a blur to me. I've chosen to forget as much as I can from that time. Everyone can make mistakes, doctors too."
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