The Last Refuge (44 page)

Chapter 67

‘So how did you know, Broddi?’

Tunheim was at the wheel of his green Toyota, driving us back into Torshavn. He shrugged wearily. ‘I live here, Mr Callum. It is my job to know the people. I might not know modern detective techniques or psychological profiling or whatever it is that the Danes are taught. But I know people.
My
people.’

I nodded. ‘And the Danes, Nymann and Kielstrup, they will be okay with you knowing things and not telling them?’

Tunheim grinned blackly. ‘No, of course not. And that makes it better. I am just a man who investigates traffic crimes and a little vandalism. I know nothing about murder or murderers, I only know about people. But anyway, you talk of knowing things and not telling those who should know. There is much you have not told me, no? Now would be a good time.’

‘Maybe. Let’s just get there. And anyway, you first. Telling me you
know people
isn’t enough. I want an explanation. How did you know?’

‘Okay. When you could not produce the knife that killed Aron Dam, that was a big problem. For me, for you, for the investigation. It put me in trouble for not informing the Danes. You . . . it made you the main suspect again. But it also made me think. You are not stupid, you knew how important the knife was. And when it was not where you left it . . . you were honestly surprised. I could see that.’

He paused and slowed at a pedestrian crossing, giving a wave to an older woman making her way across the road.

‘So I had to wonder who might have taken it. I am sure you must have done the same. It is not the kind of thing you could tell people. That you had the murder weapon and you buried it. You would only tell someone very, very close to you. Or maybe you had not meant to tell them. And that would probably mean that person was even closer. The only person I knew of who could match that description was Karis Lisberg.’

I knew a lot about guilt. It had brought me to Torshavn and it had almost brought me to my knees. My body and soul were scarred with it. Now there was more of it flowing poisonously through my veins.

‘With her name in my head, other things fell into place,’ Tunheim continued. ‘Her relationship with Aron. The time they were both at university in Copenhagen. I asked around town, people I knew I could talk to and trust to be quiet. And, of course, I knew what to ask about. The red-hooded raincoat. Ah yes, people told me. Yes, that’s right they said, a red raincoat. It did not make me happy to learn it. You must know that. And now, what you have told me . . . my God. It is a bad affair. So sad.’

Sad. Yes, it was definitely that. So much hurt already and so much more to come.

‘It must not be easy for you,
Andrew
. I understand that. Knowing such a thing about someone you care for. It is not easy to be the cause of pain to a loved one. I do understand why you tried to keep that secret. But it cannot be allowed to stay that way.’

I knew he was right. We were on our way and there could be no turning back.

‘Do what you can though, Broddi. Please? After what Aron did to Karis . . .’

He exhaled hard. ‘I will try. I will. It was a terrible thing. I do not know how much my voice will be listened to though. Our Inspector Nymann . . . we need to make sure he is not a problem. What you told me about Gotteri, that will help. Nymann’s star witness is not to be believed.’

He was right. Gotteri’s word wouldn’t carry any weight now, not with everything that about to be known. I knew the man had contrived to frame me, in order to avenge the killing of Aron Dam at the urging of his brother, and to prolong their own murky dealings. Neither he nor the Danish inspector had anything they could use.

Instead it was down to Tunheim and me to put an end to it. If this was a
grindadráp
, the boats would have already driven the prey into the shallows and we, the hunters, would be standing there with our hooks ready to deliver the fatal blow.

I’d told him what I shouldn’t have told him. Something I had no right to share. I’d told him about the rape, about Karis. About what she’d admitted.

My thoughts gave way to a quiet dread as I realized the car was slowing to a halt and Tunheim had put on the handbrake. We were in the shallow waters and nearing the end of our hunt.

Chapter 68

Tunheim led the way, moving quicker than I’d ever seen him move before, betraying some nerves perhaps. He was at the door in a matter of strides, with me just a couple of paces behind.

He rapped on the door with his knuckles, two quick knocks, followed seconds later by two more. When there wasn’t an immediate response, he turned his fist side-on and battered harder.

He grimaced and I knew he was contemplating putting his shoulder to the door or kicking it open. He battered again, louder still. The voice came from behind us, panic-stricken.

‘What are you doing? What are you doing here?’

Karis.

We both spun and saw her rooted to the spot, eyes wide and on the verge of tears. She stared at me accusingly. ‘You! I trusted you. I begged you not to tell anyone. You promised.’

‘Karis, I’m sorry.’ I meant it. ‘But there’s no choice. This is the only way.’

‘No!’ she screamed it, her eyes locked on Tunheim. ‘No. Inspector, I need to talk to you. Need to tell you what I’ve done.’

‘Karis, don’t . . .’

She moved across the street, talking as she went, not caring who heard. ‘Inspector, I killed Aron Dam. I stabbed him. I did it. It was me.’

She was almost hysterical, sobbing the words out. ‘Come away from here. Take me to the station. I need to make a full statement. A confession.’

Tunheim spoke calmly, his voice sympathetic and soothing. ‘Frøkun Lisberg, please. We know.
I
know. Everything.’

Her face crumpled, all hope gone. Stuttering, she tried to salvage the situation. ‘Yes, you know I killed Aron. Me. I killed him.’

Tunheim slowly shook his head. ‘No. We know that it was your father.’

Her mouth dropped and tears formed. She blinked furiously.

‘No. You are wrong. Wrong. I did it. It was because he raped me. Inspector, you do not realize. Aron Dam raped me. In Copenhagen. He would have done it again, so I killed him. For what he did.’

I couldn’t take any more. ‘Karis, stop. You can’t protect him. I know you lied to me when you admitted it. I knew at the time. It made no sense for you to plant the knife on me then to take it away again by digging it up. And I knew you’d never have hidden it on me in the first place.’

She snarled, baring her teeth at me. ‘You! You took it. You took it from my flat. You bastard!’

She flew at me, fists flailing at my chest. I let her hit me, but Tunheim stepped between us, wrapping his arms round her. I turned away, my hands over my face and rubbing at my eyes. This was even worse than I’d imagined.

‘Where is your father, Frøkun Lisberg?’ Tunheim tried to wrestle her into calm. ‘We need to speak to him.’

‘I don’t know. He is not here. He has gone away.’

‘Frøkun Lisberg, his car is parked right there.’

As I backed away from them, unable to bear seeing her like this, I turned and faced Edmundur Lisberg’s house. I had to stop and look again. Then I knew.

‘Inspector, keep hold of her, away from the house.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Just do it.’

I took a couple of paces back from the front door then kicked it above the lock.

‘John!’ She was screaming. ‘What are you doing? No!’

I crashed my foot into the door again and then a third time before it groaned. I lashed at it once more and the wood splintered and the lock gave away. Without stopping to look back I pushed my way inside and through to the room I’d seen through the window.

As the door flew back, I could see him properly for the first time. Esmundur Lisberg. Hanging from a timber beam with a rope around his neck.

Chapter 69

I ran across the room, heart thumping and mind racing, trying desperately to remember anything I’d read about what the hell you were supposed to do in such a situation. I grabbed his legs, finding his trousers and boots soaking wet. Drenched like mine, from where they’d been underwater at Sandagerd beach.

I tried to lift him, to create slack in the rope, but I wouldn’t be able to hold him for long. I needed to cut him down. A knife. Needed a knife.

Then the scream behind me. Footsteps running behind it.

‘Christ, Broddi. Get her out of here.’

Her head was in her hands and she shrieked like the wind, staring horrified at her father.

‘I couldn’t hold her.’ He grabbed her again, keeping her from moving forward, but unable to drag her away.

I grabbed an armchair and hauled it across the floor until it was underneath Lisberg, propping his feet on it so that at least some of the weight was transferred.

‘A knife, Karis,’ I yelled. ‘Where does he keep a knife?’

‘The drawer,’ she pointed. ‘That drawer.’

I grabbed the wooden handle on the dresser drawer and dragged it so fiercely that it came right out, objects clattering to the floor. Among them was a large-bladed knife with a serrated edge. Picking it up, I jumped on the armchair, Esmundur’s wet body sticking to mine, and sawed at the rope, Karis screaming behind me to hurry.

The fibres gave way and he dropped, my left arm catching him before he hit the floor, and easing him down towards the chair. Karis burst free of Tunheim’s grip and was at her father’s side, her hand stroking his face. Mine went to his wrist in search of a pulse.

‘Pápi!Pápi!’
Tears were streaming down her face.
‘Pápi, góði. Góði.’

‘Karis, he’s gone.’

‘Nei! Nei! Pápi, góði!’

‘Karis. He has no pulse. It’s too late. He is dead.’

A neighbour, a kindly older woman and a friend of the minister, came into the house and looked after Karis while we were waiting for police officers and an ambulance to arrive. The neighbour sat with her arms around her, the sound of uncontrollable sobbing muffled by the woman’s clothing.

Tunheim and I stood near the window, both drained by what had happened, both fearful of what might come next.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Karis pushed herself away from the older woman and thrust her head up, mouth open in shock.

‘It is my fault. All my fault.’

‘No, Karis. We know it was your father.’ I strived to take any anger out of my voice. ‘The forensics will prove it. And you know it. You cannot take the blame.’

‘It
was
my fault.’ She was confused and in shock, struggling to come to terms with it. Her father lying on the floor, his face and upper body covered by a blanket. ‘I told him about what Aron did. If I had not done that . . .’

‘On the night of Dam’s murder? You told him then?’ Tunheim had moved nearer to her.

‘No. Yes, then, too, but no, I meant I told him right after it happened.’ Her voice fell away, warily looking at the neighbour, but the woman didn’t seem to speak English. ‘The rape. I told him a few months after the rape. He knew there was something wrong with me. I never wanted to go out. Always crying. In the end I told him. Everything. The rape. The abortion. He . . . he was so angry. I had never seen him like that. He wanted me to go to the police, have Aron put in jail. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want anyone else to know.’

‘What did your father do, Frøkun Lisberg?’

‘Nothing. Not then. I made him do nothing and he agreed. He was not happy, but he wanted to make me better. And in time I was. I became me again. He was so protective after that. Suspicious of men who wanted to date me or be with me. I was, too, but not so much as him. Then Aron . . . he just would not leave me alone. And
you
. . .’

She spat the word out and it hurt.

‘
You
came and Aron got worse. Everything was going to come out. I tried to threaten Aron but he must have known I would not tell. But
he
would. If he couldn’t have me then he would tell everyone what he did. He didn’t care. That night . . . when he died . . . I went home and told my father. Said that I was scared what Aron was going to do. My father went out after him.’

‘And he killed him.’

She heard the judgemental tone in my voice and her head snapped up venomously.

‘At least my father did that for me! No one else would!’

I was aware of Tunheim’s gaze switching furiously between Karis and me. All she and I could do was stare at each other. Her words were out and couldn’t be taken back; but neither I nor Tunheim, it seemed, was brave enough to ask the questions those words demanded.

Memories drifted back to me though. Standing on the cliff top at Vestmanna, as she finished the sketch of the brave and reckless young birdcatchers of the past. She asked me if there was anything I wouldn’t do for the person I loved. Her father had proved there was no limit to his love.

Tunheim broke the spell. ‘Did you know your father murdered Aron Dam, Frøkun Lisberg?’

She let her head slump again, staring despairingly at the floor. ‘I . . . I . . . No. Not at first. I thought maybe . . .’ She looked up at me. ‘I thought that you had done it. Like everyone thought. I came to see you to find out. Because I was frightened. Frightened my father had done it. For me.’

‘None of this is your fault, Karis.’

She nodded her head furiously. ‘Oh yes. Yes, it is. All of it. You remember when you told me how you hurt those four boys who had killed your pupil?’

I saw Tunheim’s head move in recognition of what she’d said, but he said nothing.

‘Yes.’

‘You told me . . .’ she wiped the back of her hand across her face, ‘you told me that you did it for the wrong reasons. For yourself. Not for the pupil. Well, Aron wasn’t killed because he was going to tell. Even though he was. It was because of what he did to me. Because he raped me. In the end, it was because of that. I told my father because of that. And he killed Aron because of that.’

A silence fell for a while. A horrible, fetid stillness that magnified everything that was in the room. I broke it in the end.