Erla went on to stress that Tristan was being interviewed as a witness. He was obliged to provide a truthful account and leave out nothing of relevance to the case. If he failed to abide by these rules, he would be liable to conviction, as bearing false witness was a criminal offence.
The boy nodded, and, when asked to answer aloud for the recording, said, ‘Yes.’ Then he dropped his eyes to the table in front of him and asked: ‘What does liable to conviction mean? Does it mean I’d go to prison?’
Erla replied: ‘The penalty for making a wilfully false statement is a fine and a prison sentence of up to four months. As you’re over fifteen, you’re considered responsible for your actions.’
Huldar noticed Freyja leaning forwards and trying to make eye contact with Tristan. The boy went on staring down at the table, so she spoke to him directly: ‘Tristan. You’re too young to go to prison. You’re not eighteen yet, though you’re old enough to be held responsible for your own actions. So the most you could be facing is a fine and a suspended sentence, or else a custodial sentence at one of the Child Protection Agency homes.’ Freyja turned to Erla. ‘We must be careful not to cause the witness unnecessary distress. May I remind you that he is only just seventeen.’
Erla’s face tightened but she bit back the angry tirade she would clearly have liked to unleash on Freyja. Huldar gave a private sigh of relief. Before the interview, he had been so worried that Erla might have to rush out in the middle to throw up that he had forgotten to worry about how she would react to Freyja’s presence. Perhaps he had got his priorities wrong. Freyja was here to protect Tristan’s interests; Erla to extract the truth from him. A clash was inevitable.
‘Is it clear that you must provide a correct and truthful statement?’ Erla asked Tristan, who nodded again and was once more prompted to answer aloud for the recording.
‘Yes. It’s clear.’
‘Good. Then we’ll begin.’ Erla arranged her notes on the table in front of her. ‘When did you last see Rósa, Tristan?’
‘When did I last see Rósa?’
‘Yes. Rósa. Rósa Thrastardóttir. When did you last see her?’
‘A while ago. Quite a long time ago. Like I already told you. I don’t remember exactly when, but it was whatever I told you last time.’ The boy clearly couldn’t remember how he had answered before. If his response had seemed unconvincing then, it was doubly so now. Had he told the truth, he would have been able to remember.
‘You’ll need to be more precise than that.’
Tristan’s expression was despairing. His eyes darted back and forth between the people sitting at the big conference table, lingering longest on Freyja. He was obviously hoping for support from her but he wouldn’t get it. She knew her role and it did not consist of helping the witness to avoid answering perfectly reasonable questions.
‘When did you last see Rósa?’ Erla didn’t try to hide her impatience. In fact, Huldar thought she was deliberately making sure the boy heard it.
Tristan lowered his gaze again and appeared to be thinking. When he looked up, he seemed to have recalled the lie he had told last time. He answered tentatively, like a caller to a radio quiz show, who’s hoping to be stopped and given another chance if he gets it wrong. ‘It must have been about ten days ago.’
‘Ten days?’
‘Yes. Ten days.’
Erla nodded slowly. ‘Where did you meet? What was the occasion?’
‘Umm … We met in town and wandered about for a bit. We bought a Coke and talked. As far as I can remember, we walked up Laugavegur and down Hverfisgata, past her grandparents’ house. But we didn’t go in and say hello. We just wanted to be alone. To talk.’ The boy’s face was burning and his discomfort was plain to all.
‘Would you mind showing me your hands, Tristan?’
‘My hands? Why?’ Tristan shifted in his chair and it looked to Huldar as if he was sitting on them, perhaps unconsciously. If a policeman asks you to do something, the natural response is to refuse.
‘You’ll find out. Can I see your hands, please?’
While Tristan was making up his mind, Huldar noticed that Bergur’s lawyer was sitting up and taking an interest. Presumably he thought Erla was looking for scratches or other marks that might implicate Tristan in Rósa’s murder. Naturally, it would be extremely convenient for his client if his accuser turned out to be a suspect in a murder case.
Finally, Tristan laid his hands on the table, palms down, fingers spread out. Erla leant over and used her pencil to lift the sleeves of his coat. Then she sat back in her chair. ‘Where’s the bracelet you were wearing, Tristan? When you came here three days ago you had a leather band knotted round your right wrist.’
‘I don’t remember.’ Tristan had turned pale. ‘I think you must be mixing me up with someone else.’
‘No chance of that. Do you remember me telling you that our conversation would be recorded?’
‘Vaguely.’
‘Right. Well, we’ve got a video recording that shows the bracelet very clearly. So, where is it now?’
‘I can’t remember. I must have lost it. It was always coming off.’ Tristan licked his lips.
Erla drew a sharp breath through her nose. ‘Let me remind you to tell the truth, Tristan. When you were here three days ago it was on your wrist. Two days ago we found Rósa’s body with the same bracelet round her wrist. Exactly the same leather band with small coloured glass beads on the ends. So, when did you last meet Rósa? Logically, it must have been after we spoke to you three days ago but before she died two days ago.’
Tristan looked aghast. ‘You don’t think I killed her?’
‘No.’ Erla answered loud and clear for the recording. It was vital to have this on record. If they were caught interviewing a juvenile suspect under the guise of his being a witness, it would have serious repercussions for Erla and for the case. ‘May I remind you that you’re here as a witness?’
This didn’t appear to reassure Tristan. He glanced round the conference table again in search of support or a friendly face, but the expressions of those present were grave. He gulped. Huldar sent up a silent prayer that the boy would stop digging in his heels. He was their only hope of finding a quick solution to the mystery of where Rósa had been hiding.
‘I didn’t kill her,’ Tristan exclaimed, his voice rising. ‘She was my friend. I’d have to be crazy to have hurt her. And she wasn’t just my friend, she was my witness too. Why would I want to get rid of her? It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘No one’s implying you killed Rósa. We just want to know when you last saw her and where she was. We have good reason to believe that your paths crossed shortly before she died. We also need you to tell us everything you know about where she was staying while she was in hiding. That information will help us catch the person who killed her. If you were truly her friend, you’d tell us what you know.’
Tristan hesitated and there was silence in the room apart from a low beeping from the recording device. The IT man flushed dark red when Erla shot him a glare. She was on the point of repeating her question when Tristan suddenly started talking. His voice was flat and he spoke so quietly that Huldar wasn’t sure it would be picked up by the microphone. ‘OK. I saw Rósa. On Friday, after I’d talked to you. On Friday evening.’
Erla’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. She was over the hardest part: the boy had cracked. ‘How did you arrange the meeting and where did you go?’
‘She contacted me. Via Messenger.’
Erla flicked a glance at Huldar. According to IT, Rósa’s Facebook account hadn’t been accessed since she’d vanished. Nor had her messaging app. ‘According to our information, she hadn’t logged in or used Messenger recently. Not since she went missing. Are you sure you’ve remembered that part right?’
‘Yes. It was on Messenger. Rósa had a fake profile that she sometimes used. Not to post anything, just to send messages. She thought the Child Protection Agency were spying on her and wanted to keep it p
rivate.’ Tristan turned to Freyja. ‘Was she right? Were you spying on her?’
Freyja considered carefully for a moment before answering. ‘Well, I’m not from the Child Protection Agency, so I can’t answer for them, but I would be very surprised if they were.’
Erla appeared satisfied with this response, though of course she would never admit it, Huldar thought: she was incapable of seeing Freyja in her true light. ‘Going back to my questions: where and what time did you meet?’
‘We met at Smáralind and went to see a film. She suggested we meet at seven and get something to eat first, so we could talk. We had some burgers, then went to the cinema, and carried on talking a bit in the car park afterwards, before going home.’
‘What?’ Erla exclaimed, outraged. ‘Are you seriously telling me Rósa could just swan around the shopping mall at Smáralind without anyone noticing? Her picture’s all over the media.’ Then, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she asked: ‘Did no one point at her or come over to talk to you?’
‘Look, no one cares, OK? When kids are reported missing in the news, no one bothers to remember their faces. Everyone just assumes they’re looking for a junkie. Rósa looked respectable. She just wore a beanie and that was enough. It wasn’t the first time she’d walked around without being hassled after she was reported missing. If you don’t behave like you’re hiding, it doesn’t occur to people that you are.’
Erla proceeded to interrogate him about which film they’d seen and exactly what they’d eaten, scribbling it all down. The police would contact the cinema and restaurant in an attempt to verify the story, though it was unlikely anyone would remember them since the shopping centre was always heaving on a Friday evening and two teenage kids wouldn’t have attracted much attention. If all else failed, the police could look for the food order Tristan said they had paid for in cash. That alone wouldn’t prove his claim, though, since the restaurant had probably sold hundreds of meal deals consisting of burger, fries and Coke that evening. But it wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility that the CCTV footage would still be available.
‘What did you talk about while you were eating, and afterwards in the car park? Did Rósa say where she was going after you parted ways?’
‘She didn’t tell me that, no. But she was in a really good mood and we talked about all sorts of things. She kept going on about her mum and all that. Like I said, I just used to switch off when she started obsessing about that stuff. It made me uncomfortable. I didn’t want to get mixed up in it, if she decided to do something crazy.’
‘How do you mean, “crazy”?’
‘I don’t know. Like I said, I didn’t want to ask. Sometimes, it’s just better not to know.’ Judging from the boy’s expression, this motto hadn’t been chosen at random. He must have had to close his eyes to a lot of ugly stuff his mother had done over the years.
‘Did you get the feeling she was planning to do something that evening?’
‘No. I didn’t get any kind of feeling. We caught the bus together. She got off, but I went all the way to Mjódd and changed there to go home.’
‘Which bus did you both catch and where did she get out?’
‘We caught the twenty-four after the film, so it must have been at around eleven. We were going to change at the Mjódd bus station. I live in Fellahverfi, so I took the number four. Rósa was going to take the number two to Seljahverfi. I know that, because she’s done it before. But this time she didn’t. She jumped out soon after the bus left Smáralind. At the third stop, on Dalvegur.’
Erla noted this down. ‘Why did she get out there? You must have asked.’
‘There was no time. She just suddenly took off. She said she’d be in touch but I never heard from her again.’
‘Why did she suddenly take off? Did she see something out of the window?’
Tristan paused to think. ‘No. I don’t think so. I remember she was digging around in her pockets, searching for some chewing gum. Then suddenly she groaned, got up, rang the bell and jumped out as soon as the bus stopped. It all happened so fast. She only had time to say what I just told you: that she’d be in touch at the weekend.’
Erla was silent while she was working out the next question in her head. ‘You know we can check the CCTV recordings from the bus, Tristan, and find out if you’re telling the truth?’
‘I am telling the truth.’
‘All right. Did you see where she went after she got off the bus? Did she start walking towards Seljahverfi, where you say she was originally heading?’
‘No. She went in the opposite direction. Towards Kópavogur. Towards Hjallahverfi, or whatever it’s called.’
‘Do you know if she was staying there or knew anyone who lived in the area?’
Tristan shook his head. ‘No. I haven’t a clue. She never mentioned it.’
‘What about Seljahverfi – did she used to stay with someone there when she ran away?’
Tristan took a deep breath. ‘Before I answer that, there’s something I want to say.’
‘Go ahead.’ Erla put down her pen and folded her arms across her chest, ready to listen.
‘I want to tell you something. I’m going to take back what I said about Bergur and the care home. As far as I’m concerned, you can stop investigating that now.’
Bergur’s lawyer’s eyes were on stalks. ‘What?’ he blurted. ‘You want to withdraw your allegations?’
Erla rounded on him furiously. ‘I’m doing the talking here. If you have any questions for the witness, you pass me a note, like we discussed.’
Erla’s reprimand had no effect. The lawyer said: ‘I demand to be allowed to ask the witness why he made a false allegation against my client. I also insist that the boy should forfeit his status as a witness or accuser in my client’s case, now that he has openly admitted making false allegations against him.’
Tristan looked at Erla. ‘I want to talk to my lawyer.’ Boom. So that was why Magnús Eyvindarson was sitting outside. He’d obviously been forewarned about what was coming. Tristan had presumably asked his advice about the possible consequences of withdrawing his complaint. If so, Magnús had been quite right to accompany him to the police station. This was going to have major repercussions.
Erla had lost any semblance of control. Bergur’s lawyer was on his feet, phone to his ear. Tristan had clammed up and appeared unlikely to say anything else. Hafthór from Sexual Offences was making for the door. And the young man from IT was looking stressed because the camera only covered the conference table but the people he was supposed to be filming had scattered around the room.
Huldar reached over the table and grabbed Tristan’s arm. ‘It looks like the interview’s over, but you can’t in good conscience leave here without telling us where Rósa used to hide when she was on the run. Come on, spit it out, dammit.’
Tristan snatched back his arm. ‘She used to stay with some bloke who was a friend of her mum’s. They used to work together. He lives in Seljahverfi. That’s all I know.’ Then he clammed up again and refused to say another word as everything fell apart around him.
Chapter 29
Monday
Huldar sat on the edge of Erla’s desk, letting her vent. He didn’t take in the finer points of her diatribe since he was only there as a punchbag, but then Erla had no interest in what he had to say – which was just as well, since he had no solutions to offer. He merely shook his head gravely in the right places and chucked in the odd yeah whenever it was called for. That was all that was expected of him.
‘Oh, God. What the fuck does she want?’ Erla scowled and Huldar turned to see who had attracted her ire through the glass wall.
He was relieved to see that it wasn’t Freyja but Lína. She was hovering outside, visibly engaged in an inner struggle about when to knock on the door. She had probably been waiting politely for Erla to run out of steam, then realised that she would be waiting a long time in that case. She had a bunch of papers in her hand.
Huldar got up, becko
ned to Lína to come in and was rewarded with a punch on the thigh from Erla. A wide smile spread over Lína’s freckled white face as she stuck her head round the door. ‘Is this a bad moment?’
Erla threw up her hands in exasperation but Huldar smiled back at the young trainee. ‘What have you got there?’
Lína stepped inside and closed the door behind her. ‘I’ve finished going through Brynjólfur’s boxes.’
Salvör, Binni’s wife, had turned up with the boxes the previous evening, after the few people who had come in on Sunday had already gone home. She had left them in reception and the pile had been waiting for Erla when she’d arrived that morning. Erla had been baffled, since Huldar had forgotten to tell her about them. Once he had explained, she’d been on the verge of losing it when her face had turned a nasty shade of green and she’d had to dash to the ladies’. By the time she came back she had a bit more colour in her cheeks and had got over the worst of her temper. Nevertheless, she had barked at Huldar and Gudlaugur to carry the boxes upstairs. Since Huldar had asked for them, she reckoned they were his problem. Gudlaugur was regarded as equally culpable since he had gone to see Salvör with Huldar. Neither man complained since it made a pleasant change to deal with something that required physical rather than mental effort. Once they had ferried the boxes upstairs, Huldar had asked to borrow Lína, who was still hanging around CID, to sort through them. As predicted, Sexual Offences had proved embarrassingly eager to let her go.
Huldar wasn’t waiting with bated breath to see the list of contents any more than Erla was. It was just one more chore that needed to be crossed off the list.
Lína went on, with mind-numbing enthusiasm: ‘I numbered all the boxes and created a table to show the contents of each. In my opinion, they contain nothing of interest for the inquiry.’ She held out the papers. When Erla showed no sign of taking them, Huldar obliged. He put them on Erla’s desk and praised Lína for her diligence. He hadn’t expected her to finish the job that quickly. Even Erla must surely acknowledge that the young woman was a human bulldozer, though she was unlikely to start praising her any time soon.
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