Arctic Chill

by Arnaldur Indridason

  'Come. You come with me.'

  27

  The mobile rang in Erlendur's pocket. It was Elínborg to tell him about the meeting with Hallur and his parents. Erlendur asked her to call back later. Elínborg said that next she and Sigurdur Óli were going to visit Hallur's cousin, Ágúst, who might possibly be able to give them some answers about the knife. They rang off.

  Erlendur replaced the phone in his coat pocket.

  'Where's Niran now?' he asked.

  'He with Jóhann,' Virote said.

  'Where you were?'

  'Yes.'

  'Is Jóhann with him?'

  'Yes.'

  On the way Virote told him about Jóhann whom Sunee had met last spring. They had been seeing each other ever since but Jóhann was very hesitant and wanted to take things slowly. He was divorced, with no children of his own.

  'Do they plan to live together, Sunee and Jóhann?' Erlendur asked.

  'Maybe. I think they get married.'

  'And Niran?'

  'Jóhann help Niran. Sunee take to him.'

  'Why?'

  'Jóhann help Niran. He very angry. Very difficult. Then this happen.'

  The parents of Hallur's cousin Ágúst looked on as Elínborg grilled their son. The mother gasped and the father leaped to his feet in agitation when Elínborg asked the boy straight out if he had murdered Elías. Ágúst answered every question very much as Hallur had and their stories tallied in all the main details. Neither he nor Hallur had received a knife from Anton. Ágúst said he had only met Anton on that one occasion at his place and couldn't explain why the boy was claiming that he had intended to swap a computer game for the wood-carving knife. He didn't know him at all.

  Ágúst attended a different school from his cousin Hallur but their circumstances were very similar. Ágúst's parents seemed to have no shortage of money; they lived in an attractive detached house with two cars parked outside the garage.

  'Do you know a boy by the name of Niran at your cousin's school?' Sigurdur Óli asked.

  Ágúst shook his head. Like Hallur he seemed quite unperturbed by the visit from the police, and gave the impression of being polite and well brought up. He was an only child and it emerged that he and Hallur were almost like brothers and were always messing about together. A quick check revealed that neither had ever been in trouble with the law.

  'Did you know his brother Elías?'

  Again Ágúst shook his head.

  'Where were you when the murder was committed?'

  'He was with his father up at Hafravatn,' the mother said. 'We have a summer cottage by the lake.'

  'Do you often go there midweek, in the middle of the day? Elínborg asked, looking at the father.

  'We go there whenever we like,' he said.

  'And you were both there all day?'

  'Till evening,' the father said. 'We're doing up an old range at the cottage. Are you telling me that on the basis of a pack of lies told by a couple of youths, you come here late at night, in the middle of a blizzard, to ask a string of preposterous questions?'

  'That's what's so odd,' Sigurdur Óli said. 'Why should they lie about Hallur and Ágúst, boys they don't even know?'

  'Isn't that something you should be looking into? It's bloody outrageous to come here and pester the boy in the middle of the night with nonsensical questions based on information from some youths who sound to me as if they're trying to get themselves out of trouble.'

  'Maybe,' Elínborg said. 'We're only doing our job. You're welcome to complain to our superiors.'

  'I might just do that'

  'Do you want me to call for you?'

  'Stop it, Óttar,' the woman said.

  'No, I'm serious,' the man said. 'This conduct is bloody outrageous.'

  Elínborg had taken out her mobile phone. It had been a long day and she would have given anything to be at home. She could have had a word with Sigurdur Óli and agreed to come back in the morning, apologising yet again for the intrusion, but this man was seriously aggravating her. Everything he said was correct but he was being deliberately provocative and getting on her nerves. Before she knew what she was doing she had selected Erlendur's number and handed the man the phone.

  'This is the man you want to talk to,' she said.

  Erlendur approached the house with Virote. It had taken them ten minutes to walk up from the town centre. Virote pressed the bell, the door opened and a man whom Erlendur assumed was Jóhann appeared, clearly upset, and started talking in a rush to Virote. He did not notice Erlendur at first but when he stepped forwards the man started back and stared at them both in turn.

  'Are you from the police?' he asked, looking suspiciously at Erlendur.

  Erlendur nodded.

  'You're Jóhann, aren't you?'

  'Yes.'

  'What's going on here?'

  'Sunee wanted it this way. I'm trying to help her.'

  'Where Niran?' Virote asked.

  'Niran's disappeared,' Jóhann said.

  'Do you know where he's gone?' Erlendur asked.

  'No.'

  'Home, maybe?' Erlendur suggested.

  'No, I called Sunee,' Jóhann said. 'She's desperately worried.'

  'Where can he have gone?'

  'Impossible to say. He's been more agitated than usual today. He's in a bad way. He feels he should have looked after Elías better.'

  'When did he leave?'

  'I didn't hear him go out'

  Jóhann showed Erlendur into the kitchen.

  'Not more than fifteen, twenty minutes ago. I had to pop out to the shop and when I came back he was gone.'

  There was no mistaking Jóhann's anxiety. He was of medium height, fair-haired and lean, dressed in a blue denim shirt and black trousers, and had a neat beard that he kept stroking down from his mouth.

  'I heard at work that the police have been asking questions about me,' he said.

  'You and Sunee must have known each other for some time if she trusts you with Niran.'

  'Yes, nine months, more or less.'

  'But you've been keeping it pretty hush-hush.'

  'No, I don't know. Hush-hush. We wanted to be cautious. I got divorced four years back and have lived alone since. Sunee's the first woman I've met since my divorce who I really like. She's special.'

  'Are you planning to live together?'

  'We've talked about my moving into her place in the summer.'

  'You've been to her place?'

  'Yes, several times. I couldn't believe what happened to poor little Elías. I didn't hear about it till the day afterwards because I was in the West Fjords on business and didn't see the news. When people started talking about the murder, I immediately thought of Sunee. Then her brother, Virote here, called me from his mobile and Sunee came on the phone and told me what had happened. She told me about Niran, that he was in shock and in a terrible state and could he stay with me for a few days. He was frightened and knocked sideways by the whole affair as you might expect, and she was afraid for him, afraid that something might happen to him too or that he might do something stupid. I got back to town at lunchtime and found them waiting outside my house. Niran was a terrible sight. Totally destroyed. Sunee asked me to look after him and there was no way I could refuse, no way I could argue with her. It was just something I had to do.'

  Jóhann looked at Erlendur.

  'Niran wasn't hostile to me as Sunee had expected,' he explained. 'I hit it off with Elías straight away but she was worried about how Niran would react if we started living together. But Niran didn't take against me. He may not exactly have welcomed me with open arms but he didn't take against me. He didn't take much notice of me the few times I visited them at the flat, though I managed to chat to him a bit about football. I was going to sort out a new computer for them so that they could get online. He was very enthusiastic about that.'

  'And you talked about football?'

  'We both support the same English team,' Jóhann said with a shrug.
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br />   'You didn't want to get in touch with the police?'

  'No, I did it for Sunee, for her and myself and Niran.'

  'It didn't occur to you that they might have anything to hide?'

  'Niran could never have harmed a hair on Elías's head. The very idea is absurd. Ludicrous. You'd know that if you'd only met them for a few minutes. Their relationship was special. I think that's why Niran reacted so badly. They used to play together and Niran read Thai comics or books to Elías in the evenings. I told Sunee that I wished I'd had such a kind big brother when I was young.'

  'How did you and Sunee meet?'

  'At a nightclub. She was with her friends from the chocolate factory. I'd been at my company's annual do. I didn't know her at all. She invited me to dance and we danced and talked. She told me about Thailand. Then I got in touch with her a couple of days later and asked if she remembered me. We met again. She was completely open about everything, about Ódinn and her boys and her work at the chocolate factory.'

  'What then?'

  'We started seeing each other regularly. It's... Sunee ... she's positive and happy and sincere and fun, always sees the bright side of everything. Maybe it's the Thai mentality, I don't know. Then this happens, this horrific crime.'

  'But you were a bit coy about the relationship?'

  'We both were, actually. We didn't want to rush into anything and I admit I needed to think about it. It was completely new and unexpected for me.'

  'You didn't tell anyone at work?'

  'Only my closest friends, and recently my family, after Sunee and I decided to move in together. But the grapevine has obviously been buzzing because it didn't take you long to track me down. I've asked Sunee to marry me. We've discussed getting married as early as this summer but I don't know . . . then this nightmare happens.'

  'Can you guess where Niran might have gone?'

  'No. As I say, he's been very restless all day'

  'Did he mention anyone in particular? Anyone he suspected of committing the crime?'

  Jóhann looked at Erlendur.

  'He talked of revenge. He'd been involved in a scuffle at school with a teacher who threatened him. Niran didn't want to say who it was but that was one of the reasons why Sunee hid him. She was afraid for him. He's her only child now.'

  At that moment Virote came into the kitchen holding a scrap of paper. He handed it to Erlendur.

  'I find in Niran room,' Virote said.

  The paper had been torn out of the telephone directory at Kjartan's name.

  The phone began to ring in Erlendur's pocket.

  He took it out and pressed the answer button.

  'Hello,' he said.

  '. . . I'm sorry, he doesn't want to. He doesn't need to make a complaint . . . ' he heard a familiar voice say, then the caller hung up.

  Erlendur looked up in disbelief. He stared at the phone in his hand. He recognised the voice immediately. He had heard it before.

  A woman of uncertain age with a slightly husky voice, perhaps from smoking.

  He knew he would never forget that voice. It haunted him waking and sleeping because he had not listened to it properly. In his mind it would always be the voice of the guilt-stricken woman who had run away from her husband and turned up dead on Reykjanes beach.

  28

  Ágúst's mother intervened and snatched the phone as Elínborg was handing it to the husband so that he could complain to Erlendur about the conduct of his junior officers.

  Passing the phone back to Elínborg, she asked her to excuse her husband's outburst. He had no reason to criticise the police for doing their job, especially not in such a sensitive case.

  'It's all right,' she said. 'I'm sorry, he doesn't want to. He doesn't need to make a complaint'

  Elínborg took the phone and cut the connection, staring from husband to wife. Then she replaced the phone in her bag. Shortly afterwards it started ringing. She looked at the number display. It was Erlendur.

  Kjartan took a taxi home. He had been at a pub in the city centre with some old mates who used to get together from time to time for a few beers. He had left his car at home. Three of them shared a taxi and his was the last stop. The weather had deteriorated dramatically during the evening and visibility was virtually nil. The taxi's windscreen wipers struggled to cope with the snow and the car narrowly avoided getting bogged down in a drift on the way.

  Kjartan was a little unsteady on his feet when he stepped out of the taxi, which slowly moved off. He straightened up. He'd had one too many, although they had called it a night earlier than usual because of the weather.

  A wild blizzard had blown up. Erlendur drove the Ford as fast as he dared in the conditions. Virote and Jóhann were with him. The radio reported that whole suburbs of Reykjavík were being cut off due to the severe weather. Erlendur had ordered out a couple of squad cars to go to Kjartan's house. He only hoped they would arrive in time.

  'The woman you're with is the one who's been calling me ever since Elías was attacked,' he informed Elínborg the moment she answered her phone. 'She's the one I mistook for the woman who committed suicide.'

  'Really?' Elínborg said.

  'Is she the mother of the boy you're with?'

  'Yes.'

  'Keep her talking, I'm going to try to get to you.'

  'All right,' Elínborg said. 'Where are you?'

  'I'm on my way,' Erlendur said and hung up.

  Kjartan fumbled in his pocket for the keys; his wife liked to keep the house locked at all times, but he was not as worried about burglars. He found the keys but as he was about to pull them out of his pocket, he noticed a figure emerge from the shadow of the house and block his path.

  'Who are you?' Kjartan asked.

  He heard police sirens in the distance.

  Erlendur saw the flashing blue lights of the police cars through the blizzard. They were turning into Kjartan's road. He glanced at Virote who was sitting beside him. In the rear-view mirror he could see Jóhann's anxious face.

  'Who are you?' Kjartan repeated.

  The figure did not answer. He could not see its face. The sirens grew louder and Kjartan turned his head in their direction. In that very instant the figure lunged, and Kjartan felt a piercing pain as he looked back at his assailant. In the glow of the streetlights he saw that the figure was wearing a basketball cap on its head and had a scarf over its face.

  He fell to his knees, aware of something hot flowing from his belly, and saw the snow at his feet turn dark with blood.

  Raising a hand, he reached out for his attacker, grabbed hold of the scarf and snatched it from its face.

  The two police cars skidded in the snow as they stopped in front of the house. Four officers piled out and ran over to Kjartan as he sank slowly onto his side, still clutching the scarf in his cramped fist. Erlendur's car drew up and he leaped out with Virote and Jóhann. Virote ran past the police officers who were cautiously picking their way towards the figure in the shadows.