The principal printed out a list of Elías's classmates. It included the addresses, telephone numbers and names of the parents or guardians. He handed the list to Sigurdur Óli.
'They started here this autumn, the brothers. Shouldn't I email it to the address you gave me too?' he asked. 'This is terrible,' he groaned, staring at his desk as if paralysed.
'Definitely,' Sigurdur Óli said. 'I also need the address and phone number of his form teacher. What happened?'
The principal looked at him.
'What do you mean?'
'You talked about something that wasn't anything serious,' Sigurdur Óli said, 'and it was out of the question that it could have resulted in this tragedy. What was it?'
The principal hesitated.
'What was it?' Sigurdur Óli repeated.
'One of the teachers here has expressed a strong dislike of immigration.'
'By women from Thailand?'
'Those too. People from Asia. The Philippines. Vietnam. Those places. He has very strong views on the matter. But of course they're just his opinions. He would never do anything like this. Never.'
'But he crossed your mind. What's his name?'
'That would be absurd!'
'We need to talk to him,' Sigurdur Óli said.
'He has a good grip on the kids,' the principal said. 'He's like that. He comes across as brash and surly but he gets through to the kids.'
'Did he teach Elías?'
'At some point, naturally. He teaches Icelandic but does a lot of substitution and has taught almost all the children in the school.'
The principal told him the teacher's name and Sigurdur Óli wrote it down.
'I cautioned him once. We accept no racial prejudice at this school,' the principal said firmly. 'Don't imagine that. We don't tolerate it. People discuss racial issues here like everywhere else, especially from the perspective of immigrants. There is absolute equality here, neither the teachers nor the pupils would put up with anything else.'
Sigurdur Óli could tell the principal was still holding back.
'What happened?' he said.
'They almost got into a fight,' the principal said. 'Him and another teacher – Finnur. In the staff room. They had to be separated. He made some remarks that annoyed Finnur. It turned into a kind of cockfight.'
'What remarks?'
'Finnur wouldn't say.'
'Is there anyone else we need to talk to?' Sigurdur Óli asked.
'I can't inform on people just because of their views.'
'You're not informing on people,' Sigurdur Óli said. 'Just because the boy was attacked, it doesn't have to be connected with people's opinions. Far from it. This is a police investigation and we need information. We need to talk to people. We need to map what's going on. It's nothing to do with what views people have.'
'Egill, the woodwork teacher, he got into an argument here the other day. It was a discussion about multiculturalism or something like that, I don't know. He's rather tetchy. He keeps himself well informed. Perhaps you ought to talk to him.'
'How many children of foreign origin are there at this school?' Sigurdur Óli asked as he wrote down the woodwork teacher's name.
'I suppose there are more than thirty in all. It's a big school.'
'And no particular problems have arisen because of it?'
'Of course we are aware of incidents, but none of them serious.'
'So what are we talking about then?'
'Nicknames, scrapping. Nothing that's been reported to me, but the teachers talk about it. Of course, they keep a close eye on what goes on and intervene. We don't want any kind of discrimination in this school and the children know that. The children are very aware of it themselves and notify us immediately, and then we intervene.'
'There are problems in all schools, I imagine,' Sigurdur Óli said. 'Troublemakers. Boys and girls who cause nothing but bother.'
'There are children like that in all schools.'
The principal stared thoughtfully at Sigurdur Óli.
'I have the feeling I recognise you,' he said suddenly. 'What did you say your name was?'
Sigurdur Óli heaved a silent groan. Such a small country. So few people.
'Sigurdur Óli,' he said.
'Sigurdur Óli,' the principal repeated pensively. 'Sigurdur Óli? Did you attend this school?'
'A long time ago. Before 1980. For a very short while.'
Sigurdur Óli could see the principal trying to recall him and could tell that it would not be long before the penny dropped. So he took a very hasty leave. The police would go back to the school and talk to the pupils and teachers and other staff. He was at the door when the principal finally began to get warm.
'Weren't you in the riot in seventy—'
Sigurdur Óli did not hear the end of the question. He strode out of the staff room. The caretaker was nowhere to be seen. The building was deserted this late in the day. About to head back out into the cold, he suddenly stopped and looked up at the ceiling. He dithered for a moment, then headed back up the stairs and was on the second floor before he knew it. On the walls were old class photographs, labelled with the names of the forms and the year. He found the photograph he was looking for, stood in front of it and looked at himself, a twelve-year-old pupil at the school. The children were arranged in three rows in the picture and he was standing in the back row staring straight into the camera, serious, wearing a thin shirt with a wide collar and a bizarre pattern on it, and with the latest disco haircut.
Sigurdur Óli took a long look at the photograph.
'How pathetic,' he said with a sigh.
4
Erlendur's mobile rang incessantly. Sigurdur Óli gave him a report about his meeting with the principal and said he was on his way to meet the boy's teacher and another member of staff who had spoken out against immigration. Elínborg called to tell him that a witness who lived on the same staircase as Sunee thought she had seen the elder brother earlier that day. The head of forensics quoted the pathologist as saying that the child had been stabbed once, presumably with a fairly sharp instrument, probably a knife.
'What kind of knife?' Erlendur asked.
'The blade would have been quite broad and even thick, but particularly sharp,' the head of forensics said. 'The stabbing need not have required much effort. The boy could have been lying on the ground when he was stabbed. His anorak is dirty on the back and torn too. It looks fairly new, so he may have been involved in a fight. He would have tried to defend himself, as is only to be expected, but the only wound is from the knife, which the pathologist said penetrated his liver. He died from loss of blood.'
'You mean that it didn't take much force for the knife to go in that deep?'
'Conceivably.'
'Even a child or a young person could have done it, for instance? Someone of his own age?'
'It's difficult to say. But it looks as if it was inflicted by a very sharp instrument'
'And the time of death?'
'Judging from the temperature, he would have died about an hour before he was found. You can discuss that with the pathologist.'
'He seems to have been coming straight home from school.'
'It looks that way.'
Erlendur sat down in his chair and faced the brother and sister from Thailand. Gudný, the interpreter, sat down on the sofa with them. She translated the information Erlendur had received and Sunee listened in silence. She had stopped crying. Her brother chipped in and they talked together in half-whispers for a while.
'What are they saying?' Erlendur asked.
'His anorak wasn't torn when he left home this morning,' the interpreter said. 'It wasn't new, but it was in good condition.'
'Obviously there was a fight,' Erlendur said. 'I can't say whether the attack on Elías was racially motivated. I understand there are thirty children of foreign origin at his school. We need to talk to his friends, people who were in contact with him. The same goes for his brother. I know it's difficult
, but it would help us if Sunee could give us a list of names. If she can't remember the names she can provide some details about his friends, their age and the like, where they live. Time is of the essence. Hopefully she realises that.'
'Do you have any idea how she feels?' the interpreter asked coldly.
'I can only imagine,' Erlendur said.
Elínborg knocked on the door. She was on the first-floor corridor off the stairwell. The door opened and a uniformed policeman greeted her. A new witness had come forward and talked to him, and was now waiting for Elínborg in the sitting room. She was a woman by the name of Fanney, a sixty-five-year-old widow with three grown-up children. She had made coffee for the policeman, who left as soon as Elínborg appeared. The two women sat down with a cup each.
'How awful,' the woman said with a sigh. 'This happening in our flats! I just don't know what the world's coming to.'
The flat was dark apart from a light in the kitchen and a small lamp in the sitting room. It was a mirror image of Sunee's flat, with a thick carpet on the floor and green wallpaper in the hallway and sitting room.
'Do you know the boys at all?' Elínborg asked. 'The two brothers?'
She had to get a move on, obtain vital information and keep going. Hurry without missing anything.
'Yes, a little,' Fanney said. 'Elías was a lovely boy. His brother took rather longer to get to know but he's a fine lad too.'
'You said you saw him earlier today,' Elínborg said, trying not to sound tired. Her daughter was at home ill with vomiting and a fever, and she had slept little last night. She had intended only to look in at work but that had changed when the report came in about the boy.
'I sometimes chat with Sunee out in the corridor,' Fanney said, as if she had not heard Elínborg's remark. 'They haven't lived here long. It's bound to be difficult for her to be alone like that. Sunee must work her fingers to the bone; wages aren't so high for factory workers.'
'Where was Niran the last time you saw him?' Elínborg asked.
'He was behind the chemist's.'
'What time was that?' Elínborg asked. 'Was he alone? Did he go into the chemist's?'
'I was getting off the bus from town at about two o'clock,' Fanney said. 'I always walk past the chemist's and that's when I saw him. He wasn't alone and he wasn't going into the chemist's. He was with some friends, schoolmates I assume.'
'And what were they doing?'
'Nothing. Just hanging around behind the chemist's.'
'Behind it?'
'Yes, you can see into the yard when you turn the corner there.'
'How many were there?'
'Five or six. I don't know who they were. I hadn't seen any of them before.'
'Are you sure?'
'Not that I noticed anyway,' Fanney said, putting down her empty coffee cup.
'Were they the same age as Niran?'
'Yes, I suppose they were around the same age. Coloured.'
'But you didn't recognise them?'
'No.'
'You say you chat to Sunee.'
'Yes.'
'Have you spoken to her recently?'
'Yes, a few days ago. I met her outside. She was coming home from work and was terribly tired. She's told me a lot about Thailand in her broken Icelandic. She speaks simply. That's fine.'
'What sort of thing has she told you?'
'Once I asked her what was the most difficult thing about living in Iceland or moving to Iceland from Thailand and she talked about how Icelanders were a bit reserved compared to the Thais. She said personal contact was more open over there. Everyone talks to everyone else, complete strangers will discuss anything quite happily. If you're sitting out on the pavement having a meal you're not shy about inviting passers-by to join you.'
'And the weather's not quite the same,' Elínborg said.
'No. People stay outside in all that good weather, of course. We spend most of the year indoors and everyone here lives in his own private world. You run into closed doors everywhere. Just look at this corridor. I'm not saying it's better or worse, but it's different. It's two different worlds. When you get to know Sunee you have the feeling that life in Thailand is much calmer and more relaxed. Do you think it would be all right for me to drop in on her?'
'Perhaps you should wait a day or two, she's under a lot of strain.'
'The poor woman,' Fanney said. 'It's not sanuk sanuk any more.'
'What do you mean?'
'She's tried to teach me a few words of Thai. Like sanuk sanuk. She said that's typical of all Thais. It means simply enjoying life, doing something nice and fun. Enjoy life! And she taught me pay nay. That's the usual greeting in Thailand, like we say hello. But it means something completely different. Pay nay means "where are you going?" It's a friendly question and a greeting at the same time. It conveys respect. Thais have great respect for the individual.'
'So you're good friends?'
'You could say that. But she doesn't tell me everything, the dear little thing.'
'Really?'
'I shouldn't be gossiping like this but...'
'But what?'
'She's definitely been having a visitor.'
'We all have visitors,' Elínborg said.
'Of course, no, it just occurred to me that it might be a boyfriend or something like that. I sort of have that feeling.'
'Have you seen him?'
'No, but I started suspecting it in the summer and again this winter. There was just the sound of people moving about. Quite late at night.'
'And nothing else?'
'No, that was all there was to it. I've never asked her.'
'So you're not talking about her ex?'
'No,' Fanney said. 'He comes round at different times.'
Elínborg thanked her for her help and took her leave. She called a number on her mobile and was out in the corridor by the time she got through to Sigurdur Óli. She told him about the group of lads by the chemist's.
'They could be his schoolmates,' Elínborg said as she hurried down the stairs. 'He could have gone home with one of them. They seemed to be about his age.'
'I think Erlendur's been making a list of the two boys' friends,' Sigurdur Óli said. 'I'm going to meet Elías's teacher, Agnes. I'll ask her about the chemist's. The question is whether we ought to phone the chemist's too and find out if the boys were hanging around there.'
'It might still be open,' Elínborg said. 'I'll check that out.'
Sigurdur Óli rang off and ran up the steps to a house divided into three flats, in the vicinity of the school. Elías's teacher lived on the first floor and came downstairs to open the door. He recognised her from one of the photographs he had seen at the school. She took one look at Sigurdur Óli, with his short, precise haircut, tidily knotted tie, white shirt and black raincoat over a dark suit, and interrupted before he could even introduce himself.
Arctic Chill Page 4
