Where the Shadows Lie fai-1

by Michael Ridpath

  Petur had made sure he was seen in the early part of the evening and then driven up to Lake Thingvellir, arriving after nine-thirty when Steve Jubb had left. Perhaps he waited for an hour or so after he had killed Agnar until it was completely dark, before carrying him down to the lake. That would explain the signs of flies on the body in the summer house. Then, of course, he would still have time to get back to his clubs in the early hours of the morning, while they were still hopping.

  Four deaths. And Petur was responsible for all of them.

  Magnus accelerated towards Reykjavik. He wanted to call Ingileif. Of course she was Petur’s sister, her first loyalty was to him. But she wouldn’t shield a murderer. Or would she?

  Magnus called her number. ‘Ingileif? It’s me, Magnus.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m on the road to Fludir.’

  The road from Hella to Fludir passed the turn-off up the Thjorsa valley not far ahead of Magnus.

  ‘I need to talk to you. I’m pretty close. If you pull over and tell me where you are, I’ll find you.’

  ‘I can’t, Magnus, I have an appointment.’

  ‘It’s important.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry, Magnus.’

  ‘It’s very important!’

  ‘Look, if you want to arrest me, arrest me. Otherwise let me go about my business.’

  Magnus realized he had pushed too hard, but he was none the less surprised by her evasiveness.

  ‘Ingileif, where’s Petur?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Suddenly the voice was quieter, less belligerent. She was lying.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Magnus asked.

  Silence.

  ‘Are you going to meet him?’

  Ingileif hung up.

  A police car screamed by, lights flashing, speeding upstream to reinforce the officers gawping at the pastor’s body.

  Magnus remembered the way Ingileif had suddenly stiffened on that very same road the day before. As though she had seen something. Perhaps the driver of a passing car? Petur?

  If she had seen him, then the information that Hakon’s car had been found would make her think. Think along the same lines that Magnus had just been following. Like Magnus she would want to talk to Petur. She was going to meet him now.

  In Fludir. If she was telling the truth about that.

  Magnus called Ingileif back. As expected, she didn’t pick up the phone. But he left her a message that Hakon’s body had been found downstream from his car. If she was meeting her brother, that was something she needed to know.

  He carried on driving. It was still a few kilometres to the junction where he could turn left for Reykjavik or right for Fludir. But first he needed to tell Baldur about Petur.

  He called his cell phone. No reply. The bastard wasn’t picking him up.

  He tried Vigdis. She, at least, would listen to him.

  ‘Vigdis, where are you?’

  ‘At police headquarters.’

  ‘I need you to go arrest Petur Asgrimsson.’

  ‘Why?’

  Magnus explained. Vigdis listened, asking one or two pertinent questions. ‘Makes sense to me,’ she said. ‘Have you told Baldur?’

  ‘He won’t take my call.’

  ‘I’ll speak to him.’

  Magnus’s phone rang again a minute later.

  ‘He won’t do it.’ It was Vigdis’s voice.

  ‘Won’t do what?’

  ‘Authorize me to arrest Petur.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘He says it’s too early to leap to conclusions. He hasn’t even seen the body yet. There have been too many early arrests made in this investigation.’

  ‘It’s only because I suggested it,’ Magnus said bitterly.

  ‘I can’t comment on that,’ said Vigdis. ‘But I do know I can’t arrest Petur if my chief told me not to.’

  ‘No, of course not, Vigdis. I’m putting you in a difficult situation.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘The thing is, I think he’s going to meet his sister. I think she’s on to him. I’m worried that if they do meet, he might try to keep her quiet. Permanently.’

  ‘Aren’t you jumping to a few too many conclusions there?’

  Magnus frowned. He was concerned about Ingileif. Vigdis might be right, perhaps he was stretching to a conclusion too far, but after what had happened to Colby, Ingileif’s safety worried him. Worried him big time.

  ‘Maybe,’ he admitted. ‘But I’d rather jump to too many than too few.’

  ‘Look. I’ll see if I can find Petur at his clubs or at his house. Then I’ll follow him if he goes anywhere. OK?’

  Magnus knew Baldur would be very unhappy when he found out what Vigdis was doing. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I appreciate it.’

  Magnus approached the junction. With Vigdis looking for Petur in Reykjavik, Magnus could afford to concentrate on Ingileif.

  He turned right for Fludir.

  Petur could barely see Lake Thingvellir in the gloom ahead of him. It was just over a week since he had last been there. A week in which plenty had happened. A week in which he had lost control.

  Everything had been ruined that day seventeen years ago when his father had died in the snowstorm in the hills above Thjorsardalur. Since then, his entire life had been spent trying to limit the damage.

  He had tried removing himself: from the whole Gaukur saga thing; from his family; from Iceland. That had worked to some extent, although he could never remove his father’s death from his heart, his soul. He thought about it every day. For seventeen years he had thought about it every single fucking day.

  But the misery had reached some kind of equilibrium, until Inga had opened up the question of the saga again. Petur had tried to tell her not to sell it. He should have been more persuasive, much more persuasive. Inga’s and Agnar’s assurances that it would be possible to keep the sale secret had never had credibility.

  It was all Inga’s fault.

  He was nervous about meeting her now. He would explain everything, explain it so she could understand. He knew she looked up to him as a reliable big brother. That was precisely why she had been so angry with him when he had abandoned her and her mother and the rest of the family. Perhaps that would mean that she would understand why he had killed Sigursteinn. That man had deserved to die because of what he had done to Birna.

  Agnar would be harder to explain. As would Hakon. But Petur had had no choice. There was no other way. Inga was smart, she would understand that.

  He was losing control. He had covered his tracks well with Agnar. Not so well with Hakon. And with Inga?

  He hoped to God that she understood. That she would keep quiet. Because if she didn’t. What then?

  Petur fumbled in his pocket for the ring. He felt a sudden urge to examine it. He pulled over to the side of the road and killed the engine.

  Silence. To his right was the lake, a deep grey. Cloud obscured the island in the middle of the lake, let alone the mountains on the other side. In the distance he heard the sound of a car, growing louder, passing with a whoosh of air and then diminishing.

  Silence again.

  He examined the ring. Hakon had kept it in very good shape. It didn’t look a thousand years old, but then gold didn’t necessarily. He peered at the inside rim. He could make out the shapes of runes. What was it they were supposed to say? Andvaranautur. The Ring of Andvari.

  The ring. It was the ring that had destroyed his family. Once Hogni had found it, they were doomed.

  It had obsessed his father and caused his death. It had briefly obsessed Petur before he had tried to put it behind him. It had obsessed Agnar and the foreign Lord of the Rings fans, and it had obsessed Hakon. No possessed Hakon.

  Only his grandfather, Hogni, had had the courage to put the ring back where it belonged. Out of reach of men.

  Petur had spent his whole life struggling against the power of the ring. He should face facts. He had lost. The ring had won
.

  Petur slipped the ring on his finger.

  If Inga refused to keep quiet, she would have to die. That was all there was to it.

  Petur checked his watch. An hour to go. He put his BMW in gear and headed on to the rendezvous with his sister.

  Magnus drove fast to Fludir. The driveway in front of Ingileif’s house was empty. He jumped out of his car and rang the doorbell. Nothing. He stood back and examined the windows. No signs of life. It was a gloomy day, and if there was anyone inside they would have needed at least one light on.

  Damn! Where the hell was she?

  He looked around, searching for inspiration. An old man in dungarees and a flat cap was pottering about in the next door garden.

  Magnus hailed him. ‘Good morning!’

  ‘Good afternoon,’ the man corrected him.

  ‘Have you seen Ingileif?’ Magnus was quite sure that in a village the size of Fludir, the man would know who Ingileif was, even if she hadn’t lived there herself for years.

  ‘You just missed her.’

  ‘How long ago?’

  The man stood up straight. Stretched. Took his cap off, displaying spiky grey hair. Examined Magnus. Put his cap back on. Scratched his chin. He wasn’t necessarily that old, but from his face, Magnus could tell he had spent decades outside in the cold and rain. And he wasn’t rightly sure whether to help this stranger.

  ‘How long ago did she leave?’ Magnus repeated.

  ‘I heard you. I’m not deaf.’

  Magnus forced a smile. ‘I’m a friend of hers. It’s urgent I find her.’

  ‘About ten minutes ago,’ the man replied eventually. ‘She didn’t stay long.’

  ‘Which way did she go?’

  ‘Couldn’t say for sure.’

  ‘What kind of car does she drive?’ Magnus asked. He had no clue himself.

  ‘Seems to me,’ the man said. ‘If you are her friend, you would know that.’

  Magnus fought to control his impatience. ‘This might sound melodramatic, but I believe she’s in danger. I really need to find her.’

  The man just grunted and turned back to his yard.

  Magnus leaped over the fence, grabbed the old man’s arm and twisted it behind his back. ‘Tell me what kind of car she drives or I’ll break it!’

  The man grunted in pain. ‘I won’t tell you anything. Dr Asgrimur was a good friend of mine, and I’m not going to help anyone harm his daughter.’

  ‘Goddamn Icelanders!’ Magnus muttered in English and threw the man to the ground. Stubborn bastards the lot of them.

  He climbed back in his car. Where to? If she had driven back to meet Petur in Reykjavik Magnus should have spotted her – he had kept an eye out for her among the drivers he had met coming the other way. There wasn’t much to the north of Fludir. But to the east was Hruni. Perhaps she had gone there. Either to meet Petur, or to look for the ring.

  The turn-off to Hruni was just to the south of the village. He sped the three kilometres in two minutes. As he expected there was a police car in the car park in front of the church, with a single officer reading a book in the front seat.

  The book was Crime and Punishment. The policeman had nearly finished.

  He recognized Magnus and greeted him.

  ‘Have you seen Ingileif Asgrimsdottir?’ Magnus asked. ‘Blonde woman, late twenties?’

  ‘No. And I’ve been here since eight this morning.’

  ‘Damn!’

  ‘Did you hear they think they’ve found Hakon’s body?’ the constable said.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve seen it, at the bottom of Hjalparfoss. He’s dead, there’s not much doubt about that. But I’m worried about Ingileif. I think whoever killed the pastor is after her.’

  ‘I’ll radio in if I see her.’

  ‘Can you call me on my cell?’ Magnus said, giving the constable his number.

  ‘You could ask those guys back there.’

  Magnus turned. A car was parked by the side of the road over-looking the church and the rectory.

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘Three men. One Icelander and two foreigners. I asked them what they were doing, they didn’t have an answer, or not one that made any sense.’

  Feldman and Jubb, Magnus thought. ‘They’re waiting for you to leave so they can search the church,’ he said. ‘But thank you, I’ll go speak with them.’

  He drove up to the car. There was a small Icelander in the driver’s seat, with Jubb next to him and Feldman in the back. They looked distinctly uncomfortable to see Magnus.

  Magnus got out of his own vehicle and approached theirs. The Icelander wound down his window.

  ‘Hello, Lawrence, Steve,’ Magnus said in English, nodding to the two foreigners.

  ‘Afternoon, officer,’ said Lawrence from the back seat.

  ‘And you are?’ Magnus asked the Icelander.

  ‘Axel Bjarnason. I’m a private investigator. I’m working for Mr Feldman.’

  ‘To do what?’

  Axel shrugged.

  ‘He’s helping us with some research,’ Feldman said.

  Magnus was about to tell them they were wasting their time, the church had been thoroughly searched and there was no ring there, when he thought better of it. Let them spend all day on this godforsaken heath in the mist.

  ‘Have any of you seen Ingileif Asgrimsdottir?’ he asked.

  Axel’s expression of patient disinterest didn’t change. But he didn’t answer the question. Jubb frowned.

  ‘No, officer, we haven’t,’ Feldman said. ‘At least not today. We tried to speak with her yesterday, but she wasn’t real excited to see us.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Magnus. ‘If you do see her, let me know.’ He scribbled his number on to a piece of paper torn from his note-book and gave it to Feldman. ‘The pastor has just been found. Murdered. I’m pretty sure the guy who did it is after Ingileif right now.’

  Feldman took the card. ‘We’ll be sure to call you,’ he said.

  Magnus turned to look at the church, squatting beneath the crags in the mist. A raven descended out of the cloud and landed by the side of the road a few feet ahead. It strutted along, eyeing the two cars.

  ‘Enjoy your day,’ Magnus said, and jumped back into his vehicle. He sped off down the hill back to the main road.

  He must have missed her coming the other way. Reykjavik. His best bet was Reykjavik.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Steve Jubb watched the cop’s car disappear over the hill. ‘You know this isn’t right.’

  ‘What isn’t right, Gimli?’ Feldman said.

  ‘For a start, my name isn’t Gimli, it’s Steve.’

  ‘We discussed this before. We should use our nicknames.’

  ‘No, Lawrence. My name isn’t Gimli, it’s Steve. Your name isn’t Isildur, it’s Lawrence. This isn’t Middle Earth, it’s Iceland. Lord of the Rings isn’t real, it’s a story. A bloody good story, but a story none the less.’

  ‘But Gimli, the ring could be in that church! The ring from the Volsung Saga. The ring that Tolkien wrote about. Don’t you realise how cool that is!’

  ‘Frankly, I don’t give a toss. That professor I spoke to only a week ago is dead. A vicar is dead. There’s a nutter running around somewhere out there who’s looking to kill a girl. A real live person, Lawrence, don’t you get that?’

  ‘Hey, look, it’s got nothing to do with us,’ said Feldman. He looked at Jubb suspiciously. ‘Or does it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, did you kill the professor?’ said Feldman.

  ‘Don’t be daft. Course I bloody didn’t.’

  ‘You say that, but I have no way of knowing whether you are telling the truth.’

  ‘Look. That copper out there is looking for Ingileif. We know where she is. We should tell him.’ Jubb took out his mobile phone. ‘Give me his number.’

  ‘No, Gimli. No.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ exclaimed Jubb. He jumped out of the car, flung open the d
oor to the back and hauled Feldman out. The little man tried to cling on to the seatbelt but Jubb broke his grip. Jubb clenched his fist. ‘Give me that number or I’ll smash yer face in.’

  Feldman cowered on the ground and handed the big Yorkshireman the scrap of paper bearing Magnus’s number.

  Jubb went round to the driver’s side. ‘Are you with me?’ he asked Axel.

  ‘The problem is, Steve, that bugging the girl’s car wasn’t strictly legal.’

  Jubb didn’t wait to argue. He leaned in, grabbed the private investigator, and flung him into the road. He jumped into the driver’s seat and started up the engine. With Feldman and Axel hammering on the side of the car, he executed a quick three-point turn and sped off after the copper, striking Feldman a glancing blow on the legs with his bumper as he did so.

  Magnus slowed as he reached the junction of the main road just south of Fludir. His cell phone chirped.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘This is Steve Jubb. Just wait where you are! I’m right behind you.’

  ‘All right,’ said Magnus. He knew Feldman and Jubb had known more than they were saying, although he was surprised that they had decided to tell him what. ‘I’ll be waiting.’

  Magnus pulled over to the side. Within two minutes he saw the private investigator’s car fly down the road towards him. It pulled in behind him, and Steve Jubb jumped out, carrying a laptop under his arm. Alone.

  He climbed into the passenger seat next to Magnus.

  ‘Hang on,’ he said, switching on the laptop, and a receiver attached to it. ‘This will tell us where Ingileif is.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Magnus. He put the car into gear and turned left, towards Reykjavik. That was by far the most likely direction and he wanted to catch her up. ‘Where are your friends?’

  ‘Tossers,’ muttered Jubb as he fiddled with the computer.

  Magnus wasn’t exactly sure what a tosser was, but he was prepared to take Jubb’s word for it. ‘Thanks for coming to get me.’

  ‘I should have said something back there,’ Jubb said. ‘Should have told you everything back when you arrested me.’ He clicked a couple of keys. ‘Come on…’ he muttered.