Nightblind (8 page)

Herjólfur’s wife Helena and their son were due to travel south with a police officer. Herjólfur’s condition remained critical, and he was being kept in an induced coma in intensive care.

‘We’ll have a word with her before she goes,’ Tómas had suggested, and here they were. They stood at the door for a while. Tómas had already rung the bell twice and knocked hard before a muffled ‘come in’ could be heard from inside.

They entered cautiously. This was the second time in two days that Ari Thór had been inside his superior officer’s house and he led the way to the living room, reflecting again that the house belonged to a man about whom he knew virtually nothing at all. Helena was still seated on the pristine white sofa and, in the background, Ari Thór could hear a Brahms lullaby – a piece that he knew well.

Helena seemed to know instinctively what he was thinking, and she looked up through a mask of exhaustion.

‘It was Herjólfur’s favourite,’ she said, as if reciting a meaningless fact, her words bereft of any emotion. ‘I’ll have it played at the funeral.’

Her words took Ari Thór by surprise. She appeared to have given up all hope.

‘Do you mind if we sit down?’ Tómas asked politely.

‘Of course not. Are you driving us south?’

‘No, not me,’ Tómas said in a slow voice. ‘Another officer will drive you. He’ll be here in half an hour. We just wanted a word with you before you leave.’

She attempted another smile. ‘Of course. I know you,’ she said,
pointing at Ari Thór. ‘But who are you?’ she asked, her question directed at Tómas.

‘My name’s Tómas. I was the inspector in charge here before your husband took over.’

‘Ah, Tómas. Right. Herjólfur mentioned your name. Have you come back to take over again?’

‘Far from it. I’m simply here to manage the investigation.’

The music stopped. There was a short pause and the same piece of music began to play again.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Helena said. ‘He appreciated good music and literature.’ She continued to use the past tense to refer to her husband.

‘I understand that Herjólfur was investigating a case linked to the house, the place where he was … assaulted,’ Ari Thór said cautiously. ‘Do you know anything about that?’

‘No, I can’t say that I do. We didn’t talk much about that kind of thing, Herjólfur and I. He didn’t talk about his work.’

‘Do you recall anything that could give us any clue about his attack?’ Tómas probed.

‘Clue…’ she said slowly, as if turning the word over in her mind. ‘I haven’t thought about it. There’s no going back, anyway. Wasn’t it just some terrible coincidence?’ She looked blankly at Ari Thór. ‘It could just as easily have been you,’ she added.

Ari Thór shivered.

‘I’m sorry, but can I ask something?’ she said deferentially. ‘Will I get any compensation? I mean enough to support the family? How does this work in the police? I just don’t know that I could go out and work now…’ She sighed. ‘I stopped working not long after we met and I had a fall from a horse and broke my leg badly. Herjólfur has supported us all since then. I just don’t know…’

‘Don’t worry. We look after our own,’ Tómas said encouragingly, and it was as if a burden had been lifted from Helena’s shoulders. ‘And we can also still hope it will turn out for the best,’ he added, but with little conviction in his words.

‘Is he in a hurry, the gentleman who is taking us to Reykjavík?
It’s just that my son is coming as well and he went out to the shop.’

‘That won’t be a problem,’ Tómas replied.

She forced a smile. ‘Well, that’s good to know. He might be back already. He’s living in the flat in the basement so he can come and go when it suits him. We don’t see much of him. He’s got a girlfriend now, and he’ll have flown the nest before we know it,’ she added sorrowfully, with the same wan smile.

‘Your husband had been on leave for some time before you moved here. Is that right?’

For the first time, Helena hesitated for a second.

‘I’ve been ill,’ she said slowly, as if unwilling to discuss the matter. ‘I was suffering from depression. Herjólfur took time off to look after me.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Tómas said, sounding awkward. ‘I hope you’ve made a full recovery.’ He stood up.

She smiled at him again, a somewhat meaningless expression. Ari Thór wondered whether she had actually made a full recovery from her depression, or whether the shock had perhaps caused her to relapse. She shifted uncomfortably on the white sofa, moving one leg awkwardly and grimacing as she tried to make herself comfortable.

‘Thank you for coming. Since yesterday everything has been very unreal. Not many people have called and nobody has been to see us. People don’t want to intrude. Not that we know many people here. It was good to see you. I’m sorry if I haven’t been much help.’

‘Don’t worry. We’ll look after things. We have a big team working on this, our best people, and you can be sure that we’ll get to the bottom of it,’ Tómas said firmly, leaving no doubt that he was completely serious.

‘I should have offered you some coffee…’ Helena apologised. ‘I’m sorry, that was thoughtless of me.’

‘Don’t even think of it,’ Tómas said. ‘I just hope the news is better when you get down south.’

Ari Thór had no such optimism. He was certain that it was only
a matter of time before this would turn into a murder investigation, and he felt that he somehow owed it to Herjólfur’s family to put all his efforts into trying to find the killer.

To tell the truth, today has been something of a difficult day. It’s not easy being shut up in here in this heat. It certainly wasn’t my intention to spend the summer like this, now that my year off is starting. This is the time I had planned to use to travel and to decide on a direction in life. I can see easily enough what the conclusion is likely to be and I don’t have a lot of choice in the matter. But there’s no harm in having dreams.

Speaking of dreams, last night I dreamt that I was learning to play the piano. I haven’t played since I was a child. I’m not sure if I heard the tune in my dream or not; probably not, but of course I know it well. When I woke up, the tune was echoing in my head and it appears to have taken root there. It’s a pleasant sensation, having a melody on your mind all day long. It’s a piece of music that has long been a favourite of mine, but everything’s best in moderation.

Nobody has come to visit me yet. I know that Mum couldn’t handle it, so I couldn’t make any demands on her. She’s not always been strong. Dad made it crystal clear when I was admitted that he wouldn’t be visiting for a while. He said I’d need time to get over it. Then he glared at the doctor and asked if that was sensible. The doctor just shrugged carelessly and glanced at the clock as if he had run out of time for me.

Hanna won’t be paying me a visit, that’s for sure. I don’t imagine she’ll want to see me again. I guess she’ll be pleased when she hears I’ve been locked up in a psychiatric ward. Good lord … locked up in a psychiatric ward. It doesn’t look good when it’s written down, but that’s the way it is.

But I can take comfort in knowing that I don’t belong here…

On the other hand, don’t all the inmates think that?

Dinner was fairly tasteless, which isn’t all that bad considering what it looked like. At some point this unappetising stew was fish, although I couldn’t tell what sort of fish it had been, or how long ago.

Maybe I ought to try and read during the day. There are a few books available, but I’ve made a point of not making myself too comfortable here. This isn’t going to be a long stay. I doubt there’ll be much there that’s
to my taste anyhow. I have good taste, a refined taste that’s undoubtedly unusual for someone of my age. Thórbergur Thórdarson, Halldór Laxness, Ernest Hemingway, those are my guys.

I wanted to study literature at university but I don’t have a choice in the matter. There’s a path already carved out for me and I fear what the future will bring. I have to break out of myself, if that’s the right expression. I don’t even know if I can, and have even less idea whether or not this is the right place to do it.

I’m tired now. I expect to meet Dr Helgi tomorrow to talk about how bad I feel. Maybe things will get better. It’s good to be optimistic.

The book can go to its usual hiding place under the mattress. No one sees it. It holds my secrets.

Elín didn’t bother to knock any more. She opened the door carefully and peered around it.

Gunnar noticed her straightaway. He didn’t let this over-familiarity irritate him, although he would have preferred her to maintain a more professional distance during working hours.

‘How are things, Elín? Take a seat,’ he said amiably.

She shut the door behind her.

‘I just wanted to see how you are,’ she said warmly, her eyes searching his face as she sat opposite him. He was behind his desk, the mayor’s desk. It was a magnificent piece of furniture, totally out of keeping with every other item in the office, which might have been ordered from a clearance sale catalogue in the mid-nineties, and never replaced.

‘Not so bad. Keeping busy.’ He averted his eyes.

In fact, the police visit had preyed on his mind to the exclusion of almost everything else all day. But he wasn’t going to admit it.

He leaned back in his chair and lifted his feet to rest them on the desk, emphasising the fact that he wasn’t concerned, and to remind himself that he was still a young rebel at heart, even though he now wore a suit.

‘Come on, you’re not fooling me,’ she said softly.

‘I’m not trying to fool anyone.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Have they spoken to you?’ he asked eventually.

‘No, of course not. And you know well enough that I wouldn’t tell them anything.’

‘I’m sorry. It’s just so awkward. This Tómas character is so pushy,
although he avoided being outright rude. It’s as if he really thinks I had something to do with … the incident.’ He dropped his feet to the floor and stood up. ‘Goddammit, this is not something I’m prepared to put up with,’ he said, bringing his open palm down on the desk with a louder bang than he had intended.

Elín was on her feet in an instant and went over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing him back into the chair.

‘Relax. It’ll be fine.’

‘This is my big chance, you understand?’ he said, hysteria teetering on the edge of his voice, and for a moment he felt as if he were speaking to his wife. ‘This is my stepping stone. I’d never have had a chance of a job like this without the right connections, and a bit of luck. And I’m not going to screw this up.’

She stood behind him and massaged his shoulders.

‘Don’t let it upset you. The police are in a panic. A police inspector murdered, or as good as, and a killer on the loose.’

Her hands shifted to stroke his neck lightly and Gunnar wasn’t sure how to react. It felt good – too good, but he didn’t see any reason to complain, not right away, at least. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, just sitting there. He couldn’t be accused of being unprofessional.

She continued to talk, and her fingers didn’t stop.

‘We’re due to be at a harbour board meeting later today, but I’ll postpone it so you can take some time off. I have to go up to the valley anyway to see people about some planning changes for the ski area, and that might take all day.’

Then what Gunnar had feared and also hoped for happened. She kissed him gently on the neck. He waited for a moment, letting the joy of it infuse him before he turned round.

‘Listen, we shouldn’t go too far,’ he said awkwardly, his thoughts suddenly shifting to his wife in Norway.

‘Yes, I’m sorry.’ Elín let her hands fall to her sides. ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated. She looked anything but.

When Kristín was finally able to take a break, she saw that she had missed five calls from her mother.

Three pre-lunch calls were nothing unusual, a testament to her mother’s occasional lack of patience when there was something she badly needed to talk about. But five missed calls meant that Kristín had no choice but to call her back, even if it was unlikely that anything was wrong. Her mother loved being at the centre of a drama, which was a significant difference in their natures. Kristín was undoubtedly more like her father, pragmatic, thoughtful and quiet.

Five calls with no hint as to what they were about – that was her mother all over. A text or even a voicemail would never convey the full import of whatever was on her mother’s mind. The spoken word was her preferred form of communication, and Kristín steeled herself for the inevitable over-excitement that was bound to follow.

‘Kristín!’ her mother replied, picking up her phone instantly. There was no ordinary ‘hello’, just a full-volume cry instead.

‘Hi, Mum,’ she said, weary already.

‘So what’s new, my dear?’

Kristín was exhausted. Although the boy would wake her occasionally, it was her worries about her relationship with Ari Thór that were preventing her from sleeping at night. She had to resolve that one way or another, but she wasn’t going to share this with her mother.

‘Everything’s fine, Mum. Everything’s just fine.’

‘Of course it is. Is Stefnir there? Is that him I can hear?’

‘No, Mum. That’s the PA system at the hospital. He’s with the childminder today.’

Kristín sighed. Yet another phone call about nothing at all.

‘You’re at work? Aren’t you working too hard, sweetheart?’ her mother demanded, the concern clear in her voice.

‘I’m just starting back after maternity leave, but it’s all right. We all have to work.’

‘Of course. But you and Ari Thór are fine?’

‘Yes, Mum. We’re doing fine.’

‘Ah,’ her mother breathed, her voice full of pleasure. ‘You are such a lovely couple, it’s as if you were made for each other. He’s just the right type for you, Kristín. You’re going to have to let him take you down that aisle soon. You can’t let such a good man go.’ Her mother gave voice to her standard polite laughter. ‘That child is so lucky to have such reliable parents and such a strong family, just like you did. It makes such a difference when a child’s parents are happy together.’

It was as if her mother had pierced her heart.

‘Well, Mum…’ Kristín said, desperate to talk about something else. She looked at the clock, determined not to spend her entire break on the phone.

‘Yes, darling. It’s always good to hear your voice.’

‘And you, Mum? Was there anything special? I saw you called a couple of times this morning.’

‘That’s right, I wanted to let you know that we’re coming home early,’ she declared, joy pervading every word of her announcement.

‘You’re moving back?’

‘Yes, we’ve booked flights and we’ll arrive in two weeks. I’ve already given notice at my office and your father got his employers to agree to let him work on preparing the Icelandic office
from
Iceland instead of working on it in Norway.’

Kristín’s father had been a fishing industry consultant in Norway after losing his job in the wake of the financial crash, and was now working for an expanding Norwegian company. Not so long ago it had been Iceland’s meteoric expansion abroad, but things had changed dramatically. Her mother was an architect and had easily found work in Norway.

‘I thought you weren’t coming until the summer?’

‘We’re just too keen to see you and to spend some time with our little prince, of course.’ There was a moment’s silence. ‘Naturally, we’ve been following the news on the radio…’

Kristín knew that her parents followed every detail of Icelandic news from Norway. The first thing she had done the previous day, before the incident hit the papers, was to call her parents and reassure them that the injured police officer was not their son-in-law.

‘This attack is getting so much coverage it’s terrifying. This is so unbelievable, Kristín, someone shooting a police officer. In Iceland! They say it’s the first time ever anyone has taken a shot at the police, and I think they’re right. Never in my life could I have imagined this. I always thought Iceland was the safest place on earth … Anyway, it gave us something of a wake-up call … It feels wrong to be so far away when such awful things are happening. Ari Thór must be having a terrible time right now.’

‘Yes, of course he is.’

‘I just wanted you to know. We’re so excited to be coming home.’

‘We’re excited to see you as well,’ Kristín said. She certainly missed her parents but, nonetheless, she felt a knot of worry forming in her belly at the thought of their imminent return.
Things were not quite as rosy as her mother made out.