by Paty Jager
In the car, Hawke said, “It sounds to me like we need to ask Billy and Ásta to come into the station for an interview.” A thought struck him. “If Ásta was working with Rowena, and I told her that Nonni wasn’t the father of her niece’s child...” He pulled out his phone. “I need to call Bragi.” He didn’t have the young man’s number but he had Katrín’s.
“Hello? Hawke do you need more information?” Katrín answered.
“I need Bragi’s phone number,” he said without preamble.
“He’s right here, would you like to talk with him?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Hawke listened close as the phone was being passed. There were voices and the sound of dishes in the background. They were some place public.
“Hello? Hawke?” Bragi answered.
“Hi Bragi. I have some news I’d like to tell you about Wanza. Could you come to the police station?”
“What have you found? Is she well?” The excitement in his voice put a lump in Hawke’s throat.
“I’ll tell you when you get here. And don’t talk to anyone about this. Not Katrín or any of your friends. Just come to the police station.”
“I don’t understand?” He said something in Icelandic.
“Don’t say a word and come straight to the police station.” He ended the connection. “Man, I hope he does what I asked.”
“Is he coming to the station?” Böðvarsson asked.
“Yes, but I hope he keeps it to himself. If he starts talking about Wanza and Rowena hears, I fear he may end up dead.” Hawke sat and stewed on that the rest of the way to the station.
When they arrived, an angry Billy Weston was being led into the building. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded, seeing Hawke.
“We have some more questions for you,” Hawke hurried into the building and wasn’t surprised to see that Bragi had beat them to the station. “Come back with me.”
The young man followed him down the hall to the interview room. When they were both seated Hawke stared into the hopeful face of the young man. While Bragi knew English well, Hawke wasn’t sure he could convey everything to him in a foreign language.
“Just a minute.” Hawke stepped into the hall. Böðvarsson was closing a door on the other interview room. “Weston?”
“Yes. Want help?”
Hawke nodded.
Böðvarsson followed him into the room where Bragi’s nerves had the air vibrating.
“Something bad has happened, hasn’t it?” he said, his hands were clenched together on top of the table.
“I’m not sure where to start.” Hawke wanted the young man to be aware his life was in danger if they didn’t get Rowena as an accomplice to Nonni’s death. But he also knew the young man may not listen to that until he’d heard the news about Wanza.
“Do you wish me to tell him?” Böðvarsson asked.
“No, just jump in if he doesn’t understand the English words.” Hawke started with knowing that Nonni had been helping Wanza to come back here to go to school and live with Bragi.
“Yes. We only knew each other for a week but it felt as if we’d known one another all our lives. I don’t understand why she stopped talking with me.” He glanced back and forth between them.
Hawke swallowed the lump in his throat and began, “She’d discovered she was pregnant.”
The young man’s eyes widened before he glared. “Who was the father?”
“You.”
Bragi’s glare turned to pride and a smile split his face. “I am a father! Why does she not tell me?”
Hawke shook his head. “Because her mother made her get an abortion and Wanza lost her life from that procedure.”
The young man deflated before Hawke’s eyes. All the excitement, pride, and life seemed to drain out of him. “How could a mother do such a thing?”
“We’ll never know why her mother had such strong feelings for Wanza having a child or moving to Iceland. But a month after Wanza’s death, her mother killed herself—over guilt, remorse, pain, we’ll never know for sure.”
The young man cried, he wiped at the tears with fists and asked, “Why did you not want me to tell anyone?”
“Because we believe Nonni was killed, because a relative of Wanza’s wished the father of her baby dead.”
“But Nonni wasn’t the father. I was. I don’t understand?” Bragi glanced between the two.
“The person who orchestrated Nonni’s death thought he was the father because of all the emails he sent Wanza about moving here.” Hawke watched as the realization dawned on the young man.
“Nonni was killed because of me?” His eyes teared up again. “He was my best friend. He worked with Wanza for me, because he had more contacts.”
“Not just because of you. I also believe that someone used Wanza’s relative as a way to kill Nonni.” Hawke had been piecing it all together.
Bragi shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“When we have the murderers locked up, we will tell you all, but first, you must remain somewhere you feel safe and no one other than your family can see you until we say we have caught the person,” Böðvarsson said.
“Family? Why must I stay with family?” Bragi stared at Böðvarsson.
Hawke motioned for the man to tell him in their language. While they were speaking, Hawke texted Dani. I’ll be late getting in tonight, but should be done with this case by then.
She sent him a thumbs up emoji.
“Do you understand?” Böðvarsson said as Bragi nodded his head. “We’ll have a policeman escort you to your parent’s house.”
“And don’t call Katrín or Sindri until we call you,” Hawke added.
“What about Ásta?” Bragi asked.
“Definitely not her.” Hawke stood.
Bragi stood, but stared at Hawke. “She had something to do with Nonni’s death, didn’t she?”
“Why do you ask?” Hawke was interested in hearing what the young man had to say.
“That night, Wednesday, she’s the one who told us Nonni was dead. She looked right at Riku when she said it, like she wanted to hurt her.” He shrugged. “At the time, I just thought it was her trying to blame Riku, but I think she was trying to make her hurt more.”
“It was both. Remember, go to your family and don’t talk to anyone.” Hawke patted Bragi on the back as he exited the room.
Böðvarsson and Hawke entered the room where Billy Weston had been waiting.
“You know I get a lawyer, right?” Billy sneered at Böðvarsson.
“You don’t need a lawyer, we’re just asking a few questions about Wednesday and when you and Ásta, the one without the red hair and inner thigh birthmark, really went to Krýsuvík.” Hawke sat down across from the angry young man.
“I told you. We had lunch, fooled around, and I kept my meeting with Nonni, only there were police cars, so I left.” Billy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“I’m talking about before you used Ásta’s, with the red hair and birthmark, car to go to the parking lot. I mean when Ásta, with the brown hair, picked you up in her car and you drove out to Lake Kleifarvatn. You followed a dirt road at the south end of the lake where you met up with Nonni. You kept his attention on you while Ásta hit him in the head with a rock. He fell into you and you shoved him into the mud pool.”
Billy shook his head. “You’re making up stories.” But his tone wasn’t strong. His demeanor now looked scared rather than defensive.
Now was the time to make up a good story. He hoped the Icelandic judicial system wouldn’t throw the information out on a technicality.
“We have information we’ve been keeping from the public. We know a car used the dirt road at the south end of the lake. We found where the vehicle stopped and two sets of prints exited. The prints went to the mud pool where the body was found and back to the car. We know that Ásta called in sick that day and after the two of you killed Nonni, you got drunk, or acted like you were drun
k, at lunch and made sure you parked so the person where you were staying would remember when you were in the apartment.” Hawke stopped, shot a peripheral glance at Böðvarsson who had his gaze on Billy.
“Forensics was able to find bits of DNA on Nonni’s coat, under the mud. The heat baked it into the fabric.” He nodded to Böðvarsson. “Want to get that swab kit?”
The detective stood and walked to the door. He talked to the officer outside and sat back down. This was all a bluff, but Hawke hoped like hell it worked.
“All I did was shove him off of me. I didn’t mean for him to land in the mud pool.” Billy pointed a finger at Hawke. “I didn’t kill him. Ásta did. And she laughed. The bitch laughed like a crazy person.”
“I don’t understand. If you were brought to Iceland by Nonni and his father to work out a money settlement, why did you go along with Ásta killing him? You should have known once his father finds out you were in on his son’s death, he’ll press harder to make sure your father goes broke trying to sue.” That was the part Hawke didn’t understand when he’d pieced together that Ásta and Billy had to have killed Nonni.
“I don’t care what happens to my father. He’s a prick. Always has been. I thought it was funny that Nonni called him out. But I had to stick up for my father if I wanted to get any financial support from him. I hadn’t told him about the deal I’d made with Nonni and his dad. I planned to take the money and get as far from my father as I could. Then Ásta said she could get me more money if I helped her. I didn’t know she planned on killing Nonni. I thought she had some kind of blackmail scheme to get more money out of him. When she hit him I couldn’t believe it. Then he fell in my arms and I shoved him.” For the first time, Weston looked as if he really was sorry for the death of Nonni.
“Did Ásta mention why she’d killed him?” Hawke wasn’t going to let up. Weston was talking and he needed all the information he could get.
“She said if he wasn’t going to be loyal to her, she wasn’t about to let anyone else have him. And she was getting paid to make sure he suffered for what he’d done.” Weston shook his head. “I asked her what she meant and she just laughed and said, ‘Only I know the truth.’”
“She knew that the person paying her had picked the wrong person, but Ásta was using that person’s need for revenge to fulfill her wish to kill Nonni.” Hawke faced Böðvarsson. “Do we have enough?”
“We do.” Böðvarsson told Weston about the recording and signing. Hawke walked to the door and out into the hall as Ásta was being put in the other interview room. She smiled at him as if she hadn’t killed someone she’d proclaimed to love. Getting her to acknowledge her guilt and serve up Rowena Albright was going to be harder than making Weston crack. He was only an accomplice, not the person who cold-heartedly hit Nonni with a rock and laughed.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Hawke sat in Böðvarsson’s office. They had decided to come up with a plan of action to get Ásta to break.
The detective had all the information that they’d gathered about her whereabouts on Wednesday and the interview with her employer, the restaurant, and the person where Weston was staying.
“We still need someone to say she left in her car on Wednesday and have her say she went to work, where they said Billy picked her up.” Hawke glanced at Böðvarsson. “Can you send an officer to her apartment complex to find that out?”
Böðvarsson picked up the phone.
Hawke texted Katrín. Did Nonni tell your group where he planned to hike on Wednesday morning?
Less than a minute later, she responded. He said he planned to hike south of Kleifarvatn Lake.
How familiar is Ásta with that area?
She grew up in Hafnarfjörður.
Thank you.
Böðvarsson had finished his calls.
“Where is Half-narf-jorer?” Hawke asked.
“What?”
Hawke showed him the word on his phone.
“Hafnarfjörður. It’s not far from Lake Kleifarvatn.”
“Katrín says that is where Ásta grew up. She would know the roads and area around the lake and the mud pools.” Hawke had finally found something to help them get the confession out of Ásta. That and her need to let the world know she was smarter than Rowena Albright. He had a feeling the young woman had taken this murder on for revenge and to prove she was better than an almost royal person. That was the vibe he’d been getting from her since their first meeting. She wanted to prove to everyone she was smarter and more cunning.
“Should we wait for the officer’s information about her car or go start talking to her?” Hawke asked.
“Let’s let her sit in there a little longer until we have everything clearly lined out. I also contacted the British embassy asking them to be ready to negotiate a meeting between us and Dr. and Mrs. Albright.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ve not dealt with people from other countries or of their status.” Hawke would give anything to be sitting in the Rusty Nail eating a burger and talking with Merrilee and Justine about anything but what he’d run into here. Or sitting in the Bergmál sipping a beer with Dani.
“Do you think she’s going to ask for a lawyer?” Böðvarsson asked.
Hawke shook his head. “She thinks she’s outsmarted all of us. I have a feeling she’ll lie all the way into a jail cell.”
Böðvarsson’s phone rang. He answered and flipped a paper from the file over and started writing. When he hung up, he had a smile on his face. “Two of Ásta’s neighbors say they noticed her leave in her car at eight-thirty Wednesday morning. They remember because it was a work-day and she usually took the bus.”
“That’s good enough to catch her up in lies.” Hawke stood. “Let’s go have a talk.”
They stepped in the room and as Hawke had figured, the young woman sat in the chair as if she were sitting in a bar, checking out the other patrons.
“Why did you ask me to come in here? Don’t you have Nonni’s killer?”
“Why would you think that?” Böðvarsson asked.
She glanced at him. “I had heard from someone, I don’t remember who, that you’d caught the murderer.”
“You know we haven’t,” Hawke said.
Her head whipped to face him. “What do you mean? How would I know if you have or haven’t?”
He smiled. “Because we know you called in sick to work on Wednesday morning. Two of your neighbors remember you leaving in your car at eight-thirty.”
“I wasn’t feeling well. I went to the pharmacy for medicine.” Her lips tipped into a smug smile.
“You went to Billy’s, picked him up, and drove to Lake Kleifarvatn. Then you took a dirt road that put you close to the mud pool where Nonni died.”
She smiled and shook her head. “That’s not true. I went to the pharmacy and picked up medicine.”
“If you were sick, why did you go to lunch with Billy and get drunk?” Böðvarsson asked.
She swung her gaze his direction. “The medicine helped my headache.”
“You and Billy had set it up to meet Nonni at the mud pool. We have the emails between him and Billy—the only person he was expecting. While Billy approached him from the front, you walked up behind and bashed your friend, the young man Einar said was going to marry you, in the back of the head with a rock.” He tilted his head and glanced at Böðvarsson. “We have Nonni’s hair and blood on the rock you used.” He returned his gaze to Ásta. The smug smile remained pasted to her face. However, he could tell behind the blank stare, she was thinking. “We also have one hair, which must have fallen off your head, coat, or was maybe on the gloves you wore, that wasn’t his. I’m guessing once we get a DNA swab from you, we’ll have a match.”
Böðvarsson did as before. He stood, went to the door, talked to the officer and returned.
Ásta watched him closely and tilted her head to listen to what he said. “We were never out there and you can’t make me take a DNA test.”
Hawke opened
his hands palm up. “If you have nothing to hide you shouldn’t care about a DNA test.”
She shrugged. “I guess not. But I didn’t kill him.”
“You’re right. You didn’t kill him. You incapacitated him and left him to drown in a boiling mud pool.” Hawke peered into her eyes. He saw no remorse. No compassion. If they hadn’t caught her for this killing, she would have gone on committing more.
“We can drop the charge to assault instead of attempted murder, if you tell us why you and Billy wanted him dead.” Hawke decided to play to her ego, rather than fear. She had no fear.
“We didn’t want him dead. I wanted him to suffer the way he’d made me suffer.” She played with the cuff of the sleeve of her shirt. “Billy wanted money. I discovered a way for us to both get what we wanted.”
“What way?” Hawke leaned back as if what she was about to say was the least interesting thing to him. He’d learned enough about her to know she would use all her wits to make Rowena Albright out as the only villain in this scenario.
“Tuesday night, I went to Harpa to meet Nonni before everyone else arrived. I was standing by a woman when Riku walked up and hugged Nonni.” Her eyes darkened with anger. “I could tell they felt more for one another than he’d ever felt for me. I said something and a woman overheard me. She asked why I was mad. I pointed out Nonni, and said, he couldn’t keep his hands off girls. She asked me how I knew him. We went down to Bergmál and visited over drinks. She hated Nonni and wanted to set someone up to kill him. She asked me all about his habits, where he liked to go, and gave me her phone number.” She tapped her fingers on the top of the table. “I’m thirsty.” She peered at Böðvarsson. “Maybe they can bring some water when they bring the DNA test?” She raised an eyebrow.
It was as if she knew they’d made up the DNA fact.
The detective rose, walked to the door, and conversed with the officer. He sat back down at the table. “They are both coming. It’s a busy day.” He glanced at Hawke.
“Did you call this person when you discovered where Nonni was hiking the following morning? Because you all sat there while he and I discussed the area he would hike.” Hawke remained relaxed against the back of the chair. He didn’t want this woman to know how badly he wanted her to reveal Mrs. Albright’s, or her own, premeditation in killing Nonni.
