The Absolution

by Yrsa Sigurdardottir

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘He replied and said he’d be there.’

  ‘How long ago was this?’

  ‘Um, about a month.’

  Gudlaugur nodded. Freyja felt it best not to interfere now that he was getting somewhere. ‘What happened then? Did he go round to her place? Or did you send him somewhere else?’

  ‘We sent him round to her place.’ The girl was almost whispering now. ‘Afterwards he went mental. He sent this scary message saying he was going to get even with us.’ She lowered her voice so much they could barely hear. Gudlaugur had to ask her to repeat it for the recorder. ‘I mean, suddenly he knew Stella’s name and everything.’

  It didn’t take a genius to guess where that information had come from. Adalheidur must have worked out who was responsible when the man turned up at her house. ‘What exactly did he say about getting even?’

  ‘Just that he would. Get even, I mean. But Stella tricked him.’

  ‘Tricked him?’ Gudlaugur sounded as surprised as Freyja was feeling at the turn the story had taken. ‘How?’

  ‘She found the IP number he’d sent the messages from. She googled the instructions, you know. Her boyfriend’s brother works for an internet company and he found out where the IP number was registered. So she got hold of the man’s name and address. And she looked up his wife’s name in the telephone directory.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘She e-mailed him saying she’d tell his wife if he didn’t pay up.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Fifty thousand. Afterwards, she wished she’d asked for more. He’d definitely have paid.’

  ‘What was the man’s name?’

  ‘I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me.’ Her voice betrayed a hint of resentment. ‘I think, like, she was scared I’d try to get money out of him too? But I never would of. Anyway, I never saw any of it. We went out for a meal, like, once, and Stella paid. But that was all. She kept the rest and spent it on stuff for herself. Like clothes.’

  ‘So she got the money? How? Did she meet the man?’

  ‘Yes. She made him meet her at Hlemmur. He turned up and gave her the money in an envelope.’

  ‘Are you sure? She wasn’t just making it up?’

  ‘No. I’m sure. Because I went with her, she made me – for safety? I sat on a bench and pretended not to know her. In case he went for her. But he didn’t do anything, he just handed her the envelope. Then he spat on the floor, right by her feet.’

  ‘Can you describe him?’

  ‘Er … yes. I think so. He had a black eye.’

  ‘A black eye?’

  ‘Yeah, like really bruised.’

  Gudlaugur pushed back his chair and stood up, asking the girl to come with him so they could take down her description. He explained that instead of temporary things like his black eye or what he was wearing, she should focus on describing things that would stay the same, like the colour of his eyes and hair, his build and whether he was fat or thin. She didn’t seem to understand what was meant by his build, and pointed out that a person’s hair colour could change. Freyja, taking in her dyed mane, saw what she meant. If being brunette became fashionable tomorrow, this girl would be dark-haired by evening.

  As they left the interview room, Freyja spotted Huldar escorting a man towards them, presumably one of the ‘creeps’ who’d contacted Adalheidur and was on his way to be interviewed by Erla.

  Bjarney stopped dead, clutching Gudlaugur’s arm and pointing. ‘That’s him,’ she whispered frantically. ‘That’s the guy. The creepy guy with the black eye. That’s him.’

  Chapter 29

  The man sitting across from Huldar and Erla was called Arnar Björnsson. It had finally hit home that he was backed into a corner – a dark, lonely corner with no way out. His upper lip was beaded with sweat and he kept trying to wipe it off with damp fingers. His cheeks were unnaturally red, his eyes twitching, and his hands, which he hid in his lap when he wasn’t wiping his lip, were shaking badly.

  Huldar was elated. He didn’t feel an ounce of pity for this desperate, middle-aged man. He couldn’t stand sex offenders, could never find within himself the slightest sympathy or understanding for their actions. While he had a pretty colourful history himself when it came to sexual partners, it wasn’t rocket science: if a woman was unwilling or wouldn’t do it without being paid, it meant she was out of bounds. Simple as that.

  Arnar sniffed and Huldar had to work hard to keep the contempt out of his expression. This man wasn’t just suspected of trying to buy sex from a schoolgirl but also of brutally murdering Stella and attacking Egill. They hadn’t yet managed to establish any link to the boy but it was only a matter of time. He must have crossed paths with Egill through the porn site Stella had registered Adalheidur on, or something similar. Perhaps Egill and Stella had known each other after all and conspired to blackmail Arnar together, without telling Bjarney. Or there could be a completely different explanation. It didn’t matter: they’d caught the evil bastard.

  ‘Where’s Egill?’ Erla repeated yet again. Finding the boy, alive if possible, was top priority right now. ‘I’m going to keep on asking until you answer.’ Erla’s gaze went to the clock on the wall, then back to the man. ‘We’re authorised to interview you for six hours at a stretch and we’ve only been at it for one. That’s five to go. When I get bored, I can have a break and get someone else to take over. Go for a coffee while you’re stuck here. When the six hours are up, you can go home, but we’ll call you back for another interview the moment your statutory rest period is up, and question you for another six hours. And we’ll keep on like that until you answer. So let’s try again. Where’s Egill?’

  ‘What about my human rights?’ The man squirmed in his chair. ‘You can’t interview me for all that time without giving me something to eat. Can you?’

  Huldar permitted himself a grimace. What a pathetic loser. But that was often the way. People guilty of the most vicious acts towards others often turned out to be yellow-bellied cowards when they found themselves alone and outnumbered. They got their kicks from picking on the weak. No doubt it made them feel big. What adult male couldn’t play the tough guy with children or teenagers? Huldar sat up tall to make the most of his height and folded his arms over his chest to show off his biceps. The wimp in front of him seemed to shrink even further. ‘Answer her question. Where’s Egill?’

  ‘I’ve no idea who you’re talking about. I swear. Like I told you, I must have got a computer virus that accessed that porn site. It had nothing to do with me. And I never went near any Stella. Or anyone called Egill either. I’d never do anything like that. I’m married. Why would I pay for sex? And from a boy, too?’

  The ball passed back to Erla. ‘Don’t ask us. You’re not here to ask the questions. That’s our job. Your job is to answer. And don’t give us that bullshit about a computer virus. You must take us for a bunch of idiots. Let me remind you that we have a witness who saw you hand over the money to Stella as payment for her silence. Are you saying that was the virus? What, did it morph into human form or something?’ Erla did a good job of emulating Huldar’s pose, despite her lack of bulk. ‘Anyway, leaving that aside for a minute, we’ve got more urgent matters to discuss. Like where’s Egill?’

  The man’s eyes flickered from side to side and he ran his tongue over his lips again, just missing a big bead of sweat. ‘The only Egills I know are a bloke I worked with three years ago, a friend from school and a cousin of mine in Eskifjördur. How many times do I have to tell you that? I’ve never met the Egill you’re looking for, let alone attacked or abducted him.’

  ‘We know you’re lying. Just like you’re lying about never having met Stella.’ Huldar’s eyes bored into the man’s face. ‘Where’s Egill?’

  ‘I’ve just answered that. You’ve got to stop asking me the same questions all the time.’

  ‘Where and who is number one?’ Huldar switched to the other question they’d been asking ever since the
y’d sat down.

  ‘Am I under arrest?’ Another nervous lick of the lips. ‘If I am, maybe I should get a lawyer. In fact, yes: I want a lawyer. I’m not saying another word until he gets here. I’ve answered all your questions anyway. You just keep going on and on about the same things.’

  ‘You’re not under arrest. We’re simply taking a statement from you. At this stage you’re still only a witness and we haven’t decided whether to elevate you to the status of an official suspect. If we do, and if we arrest you, you can have a lawyer present. But only suspects get lawyers, not witnesses.’ Erla spoke slowly and clearly, presumably for the benefit of the recording. Huldar didn’t know if her argument was watertight legally speaking, though she’d cited the law correctly. In fact, the correct procedure would have been to interview Arnar as a suspect and let him have a lawyer present. But if he was the man they were after, it was unlikely anyone would criticise their methods. ‘Where’s Egill?’

  The man groaned, clasped his head in his hands and ran his fingers through what remained of his hair. ‘I know nothing about any Egill. And I had nothing to do with the murder of that girl Stella.’

  ‘Then tell us why you didn’t get in touch with us when you read in the papers that she’d been murdered. Her name’s been published, so you must have realised that you’d had dealings with her. Didn’t it occur to you that the fact she’d blackmailed you might be important information? Even if you’re as innocent as you claim, it must have crossed your mind that she could have tried the same with other men. Or didn’t you give a damn?’ Erla’s face couldn’t have expressed any more distaste if the contents of a slurry tanker had been emptied out on the seat opposite her.

  ‘I … I …’ The man gulped, then seemed to gather up the tatters of his manhood. In a firmer voice, he repeated: ‘It was a computer virus. I knew nothing about that porn site. Your witness must be muddling me up with someone else. I’m nothing special to look at; there are hundreds – thousands – of other blokes who look like me.’

  ‘Where’s Egill?’ Erla bent forward across the table. ‘Where’s Egill?’ When, instead of answering, the man merely clamped his lips into an invisible line, she caught Huldar’s eye and jerked her head as a sign that they should step outside. Then she informed Arnar that they were going to suspend the interview briefly; he’d do well to think things over while they were gone.

  When they emerged, their colleagues looked up eagerly. Everyone knew there had been a breakthrough in the investigation. Huldar guessed some of them envied him the chance to take part in the initial interview of the suspect. It was always a big event.

  Erla waved at Jóel and the guy sitting next to him to take over the interview. Their orders were to repeat ad nauseam: Where’s Egill? If Arnar showed any signs of cracking, they were to fetch her and Huldar, otherwise she’d be back to take over again in fifteen minutes.

  Huldar seized the chance to go outside for a smoke. He knew it was better to be dying for nicotine during an interview – it sharpened your performance, made you more impatient – but he couldn’t hold out any longer.

  The weather was as good as it got at this time of year: freezing hard, with a cloudless sky and not a breath of wind. As he leant against the wall, basking in the sunshine, he spotted Freyja leaving the station and called out to her in a great cloud of steam. When she saw it was him, she didn’t look too thrilled.

  ‘How did it go with Bjarney?’ Huldar stubbed out the barely smoked cigarette, and strode over to intercept her.

  ‘Well. She’s positive he’s the guy Stella arranged the meeting with.’ Freyja raised her eyes to the blue sky, as if searching for a storm cloud to provide her with an excuse to cut this short. But her luck wasn’t in. ‘Gudlaugur did a good job. Though actually I was expecting you.’

  Huldar grinned broadly. ‘Aw, did you miss me?’

  She pulled a face. ‘No. Expecting something and looking forward to it are quite different things.’

  Huldar didn’t let this get to him. Her sniping paled into insignificance next to her rudeness when he’d rung to ask her to come into the station. ‘We believe we’ve got the right guy. So this is probably a good moment to thank you for all your help. You were right about the bullying, though Stella’s death was only indirectly linked to it.’

  ‘What about the boy? Has the man told you where he is?’

  ‘No. But he will.’ Huldar felt able to speak with some confidence. Erla was planning to use the break to consult a lawyer and her superiors about the most effective way to make the arrest. Her idea was to use the full six hours they had for taking Arnar’s statement, then release him. Give him a chance to step outside into the fresh air, get a lungful of freedom, then arrest him on the steps. That would also give them time to apply for a search warrant before he could go home and destroy any evidence. Huldar was sceptical about the chances of these tactics meeting the approval of the lawyers, but no doubt the top brass would be on side.

  ‘Any hope of him being found alive?’ Freyja asked.

  Huldar’s smile faded. ‘Only a very faint one. With any luck a search of his house will turn up something that’ll lead us to the boy – if the man doesn’t come clean of his own accord.’

  Freyja nodded and started looking around, obviously keen to get away. ‘OK, well, good luck. I really hope it works out. Sometimes the impossible happens.’

  ‘Yes.’ Any minute now she’d be gone. This might be the last time Huldar saw her for ages. ‘Speaking of the impossible, how about we celebrate the successful conclusion of the case? Are you busy this weekend? Or next weekend? Or one evening next week, if that suits you better?’ He was coming across as desperate, but too bad. He’d do anything to get his foot in Freyja’s door.

  Her expression was unfathomable. But when she finally spoke, there was no room for misunderstanding. ‘I’m busy. This weekend, next weekend, and every weekday as well. Forever.’

  ‘The weekend after that, then?’ Huldar smiled ruefully but she didn’t respond in kind, merely said goodbye, wished him luck again, and turned to go. But instead of walking away, she hesitated, then turned back again and gave him an appraising look while he stood there like an idiot. ‘Have you got any smart clothes?’

  ‘Er … yes.’ Huldar wasn’t sure if Freyja would agree with his idea of smart. She could be talking about black tie, for all he knew. ‘How smart are we talking?’

  ‘Smart smart. A suit. Not your old Confirmation outfit or some shabby old-fashioned number you keep at the back of the wardrobe or that you’d borrow from your granddad. No elbow patches or tweed. No brushed velvet either, or checks.’

  Huldar nodded each time she vetoed an item. When she finished her list, he reckoned he could fulfil these conditions. ‘Yes, actually. My sister got married in August and I was sent out to buy myself a suit for the reception. It’s very smart.’ He grinned. ‘At least, it doesn’t feature anything on your list of banned items.’

  ‘Then are you free on Saturday evening to come to a party with me? I intend to stay for precisely one hour. Not a minute longer. After that I’m going home.’ Freyja seemed to have difficulty getting the words out.

  ‘I’m game,’ Huldar said.

  ‘Don’t you want to know what sort of party it is?’

  ‘Nope. Couldn’t care less.’

  ‘OK. I’ll be in touch.’ Without another word she walked off.

  Fifteen minutes dragged into half an hour, then an hour. Erla hadn’t got the meeting with management and the departmental lawyer out of the way quite as briskly as she’d hoped.

  She’d been ordered to drop all the games and arrest the man immediately. It was evident from the foul mood she was in that they’d torn a strip off her for even dreaming of doing things differently. They’d also chosen that moment to inform her that they wouldn’t be requesting permission from the Data Protection Authority to access the deCODE database, on the grounds that it was unlikely to be granted, which would look bad for the police. Erla was spitting ma
d after the meeting, biting the heads off anyone who dared speak to her and snubbing everyone else. Huldar came in for his fair share of abuse but he couldn’t have cared less. Nothing could dent his good mood now that he’d got a foot in the door with Freyja. How it had happened was a mystery to him, but he wasn’t going to let that spoil his pleasure.

  ‘Arseholes!’ It was hard to tell whether Erla was talking to herself or expected Huldar and Gudlaugur to back up her opinion of the lawyer and her bosses. ‘Stupid, fucking arseholes. Now he’ll get himself a lawyer and that’ll create a delay. How can the thick bastards not grasp how urgent this is? We had three and a half hours left to grill him as a witness.’

  ‘I know.’ Huldar felt he’d better agree, though he could understand the attitude of the guys upstairs. If there was even a hint of doubt about whether a party should be interviewed as a witness or a suspect, they were supposed to treat them as a suspect. That way the person was ensured their statutory rights, including the right to a lawyer. ‘Arseholes, the lot of them.’

  Erla frowned suspiciously. Clearly he hadn’t sounded convincing enough. ‘Ready?’ He nodded and she looked at Gudlaugur. ‘You too?’ Gudlaugur nodded in turn. ‘Not a word from you, though, unless you think some detail from your interview of Bjarney could help us. In that case, give me a nudge and whisper it in my ear.’

  ‘OK.’ Gudlaugur shifted awkwardly.

  From the other side of the door they could hear the muffled sound of Jóel’s voice asking half-heartedly where Egill was. When they walked in, he looked relieved to see Erla, no doubt bored to tears after repeating the same question for an hour, but his pleasure soured the instant he clocked Huldar behind her. Arnar appeared indifferent to the changeover. He looked dazed, like a man who’s been put through a spin cycle.

  ‘Thanks. We’ll take over now.’

  Jóel and his partner got up immediately and walked out without a word, Jóel deliberately bashing his shoulder into Huldar as he passed. Huldar ignored him, silently resolving to pay him back in kind as soon as he got the chance.