Why Did You Lie? (25 page)

‘What notes?’

Nói had the feeling she knew exactly what he meant, and couldn’t understand why she was engaging in this pretence.

‘The notes Tumi and I found at the chalet. The ones with the weird messages. What did you think I was talking about?’

‘Oh, them. I put them on the kitchen table.’ Vala said this rather too casually.

‘You’re sure we didn’t accidentally bring one from home? It would be stupid to confuse the police with it if we know what it’s about. One of the notes could have been delivered before the couple arrived. I know the other one was delivered after they left.’ Nói wanted to turn and watch his wife’s reaction but resisted the impulse. They were both upset and there was no need to transfer his suspicion of the Americans onto her. She was just tired and in shock like him.

‘No. I’ve never seen that note before. Never set eyes on it.’ Her denial was rather too vehement. And her tone somehow unconvincing. Yet he couldn’t begin to understand why she would lie. It was hard to imagine that she could have printed it out herself or forgotten that she’d seen a message like that. It just didn’t make sense. Without another word, Nói stood up and left the room. He was going to remove the notes so they didn’t end up in the bin ‘by accident’ before the police arrived. It was a pity all three of them had handled the paper, so the presence of their fingerprints wouldn’t prove anything.

Hearing Púki miaowing in the sitting room, Nói wondered what would become of the poor creature if anything happened to them. Then he realised how stupid it was to think like this; he’d obviously been infected by Vala’s strange ideas about the cat on the barbecue. What on earth could possibly happen to them? It would be more natural to wonder how they would feel if something happened to their pet cat.

The police officers – who looked like a teenage boy and his older brother – sat at the kitchen table, examining the evidence Nói had collected. They did not seem particularly impressed and he had to admit that the overall effect wasn’t as compelling as he had hoped. The scissors seemed to be the only item that could prove anything. They were wrapped in a tea towel, the sharp blades gleaming inside the cheerful checked design, and the police were chiefly interested in them. They had yawned during the video footage. ‘You’re sure you didn’t throw them away yourselves? By accident?’

‘Of course we didn’t. Do you ever accidentally throw away large pairs of scissors?’ Nói regretted it the instant the words were out of his mouth. He attributed his irritation to the headache that had crept up on him and was now so bad that he felt almost too sick to keep up his side of the conversation. He wanted to retreat to a darkened room and lie down. But that wasn’t an option. First he had to persuade the police to take this stuff away and do something about it. The laughable part was that originally he had been hoping they might want him to help or might ask his opinion, that sort of thing. Now he just wanted these boys out of his house as soon as possible. Extraordinary how one dead cat could change everything. ‘They were lying in the dustbin and they weren’t wrapped in anything like you might expect if they’d got mixed up with other rubbish. They were underneath a pizza box with an untouched pizza inside.’ He omitted to mention the type of pizza. Even in his head it sounded ridiculous to start going on about margheritas.

‘Was it yours?’

Nói shook his head.

‘You didn’t check the date? There’s usually a note on the box saying who ordered it and when.’

‘No. Maybe it’s still in the bin. As far as I know it hasn’t been emptied yet.’ The two policemen caught each other’s eye and one of them shrugged as if unable to decide whether it was worth grubbing around in the dustbin. Nói waited for them to turn back to him. ‘Then there’s the business of the outside lights.’

‘It’s fairly common for kids to do that kind of thing, isn’t it?’ Vala had been sitting in silence, as if preoccupied, and Nói had assumed she wasn’t even listening. She seemed desperate to play the whole thing down, although she had been visibly shaken when he first told her.

‘What happened to the outside lights?’ The older youth was so bored he could hardly be bothered to open his mouth when he spoke.

‘Someone broke all the bulbs in them. Either before we flew home or the same day. I was too tired to notice when we got back.’

‘Wouldn’t you agree that it’s not necessarily connected to the rest? Things like that are pretty common, aren’t they?’ Vala seemed eager for reassurance that it was nothing; that outside lights were put up with the sole purpose of providing entertainment for the country’s teenagers. Nói wanted to tell her to keep out of it. This matter was his baby and she shouldn’t keep undermining him like this. But his headache was so severe that he couldn’t face starting an argument with her. It would look bad in front of the police, too.

‘It’s not actually that common. At least, we don’t receive many reports of that kind of thing. In fact, I can’t remember hearing about a single case before. What about you?’ The younger officer turned to the elder, who, to Nói’s delight, confirmed this. His headache receded momentarily, only to intensify again almost at once.

‘I assume you’ll want to find out who did it. I swept up the broken glass. It’s in a bag in the garage. You can take it with you. I’ve replaced the bulbs already.’ The officers exchanged glances again and the older one smirked. Nói pretended not to notice, though he wanted to grab the boy by the lapels and shake him. ‘Perhaps the Americans did it. I’m beginning to think they must have been on drugs, or just wrong in the head. They left stuff behind, took stuff that was ours … Our bedclothes and mattress protector have disappeared, for example, and I’ve already told you about the satnav our neighbours lent them. It seems there was something funny about them. Unless …’

‘Unless what?’ The younger officer pricked up his ears and looked suddenly interested. Perhaps it was a way of stopping himself from falling asleep on the table.

‘Well, unless something happened to them. That was what I suspected at first. You saw the recordings.’

‘They didn’t really tell us much. And anyway, they were tourists, weren’t they? Do they have family in Iceland, or any business connections? I can’t see why anyone in this country would have a score to settle with them.’

‘They didn’t know anyone here,’ Vala chipped in. ‘As far as we’re aware. They were just ordinary Americans.’ Then she added distractedly: ‘Unless they were used to smuggle drugs into the country. It’s not as if they’d have told us. We’d never have allowed anything like that to go on in our house.’

‘Perhaps we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves.’

It was annoying to be patronised by people so much younger than them and Nói wished Vala would pull herself together. She had no right to open her mouth, given the way she had scoffed at his concerns.

‘You have a son, don’t you?’

‘Yes. His name’s Tumi. But he’s only in his teens and he doesn’t know anything about this.’

‘All the same, we’d like to meet him if he’s at home.’ The policemen’s expressions were hard to read. ‘We’d like to speak to all of you.’

‘Tumi!’ Nói yelled, stepping into the hall. From upstairs came the sound of clomping footsteps. ‘The police want to see you.’

‘Me? What have I done?’ Tumi looked anything but innocent when he appeared, his illegal downloads obviously weighing heavily on his mind.

‘Nothing. Come down.’

Tumi followed his father into the kitchen and stood as far away from the police as he could, hands in his pockets, fringe over his eyes, but his hair wasn’t long enough to hide his flushed cheeks.

‘Hello. Are you Tumi?’ As the police officers regarded his son with grave faces, Nói felt an impulse to joke that their shift was over and this was their replacement. Who did they think he was? But Tumi reacted calmly to the question and nodded, his fringe flopping. ‘We’d like to ask you about these items – find out if they have anything to do with you.’

Tumi stepped over to the table and surveyed the objects arranged on top. ‘Nope. I know nothing about any of them.’

‘What about the cat? Any chance you and your mates put it on your dad’s barbecue for a laugh? Or that someone did it to tease you? Are you being bullied at school?’

‘Nah. It’s nothing to do with me. And I haven’t got any friends who’d do a thing like that, or enemies either.’

‘May I point out that my son is fifteen years old? So are his friends, and if he has any enemies they’re presumably the same age. None of them has a driving licence and it wouldn’t be that simple for them to travel all the way east over the mountains to our chalet just to play a practical joke.’

The policemen didn’t turn a hair at this. ‘So, as far as you’re aware, none of this has anything to do with you or anyone you know?’

Tumi shook his head again, his hands still in his pockets, his cheeks scarlet.

‘All right. If you change your mind or remember anything, let your parents know. Immediately.’

‘OK.’ Tumi shrugged nonchalantly.

The police officers were watching him as if they expected him to haul up his T-shirt to reveal explosives strapped to his body. When nothing of the sort occurred, they turned their attention back to Nói. ‘One more question. Do you hunt?’

‘Me?’ Nói realised his look of astonishment was a bit of an overreaction. It was a perfectly reasonable question, as many locals went out shooting ptarmigan or geese. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘You don’t keep a gun in the house or garage? Or any other kind of firearm?’

‘No. Certainly not.’ Nói wondered if he should invite them to look for themselves. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘About a week ago we received notification that a shot had been fired near here in the middle of the night. I answered that call-out and I was wondering if your Americans could have been involved. The person who rang thought the shot had been fired from the coast path below your house. Presumably out to sea. Maybe someone shooting at gulls. I just wondered if these people could have found a gun at your place and wanted to try it out. If they killed the cat, they could well have been capable of taking pot-shots at seabirds.’

‘I don’t own a gun. If they were shooting birds round here they must have brought the gun with them.’ Nói’s headache intensified and he felt violently sick. But he knew that if he rushed out to throw up it would look suspicious. He shoved his hand in his trouser pocket and felt something he had almost forgotten. ‘Oh, yes, and then there’s these. I don’t understand what they mean but they’re nothing to do with us.’ One of the policemen read the notes Nói had pulled out of his pocket, licked his lips and handed them to his colleague who glanced at the text and raised his eyebrows. They both looked back at Nói.

‘Were these at the chalet?’

‘Yes. One was lying on the floor – the one that was pushed under the door in one of the recordings I showed you – and Tumi found the other on the kitchen worktop. Didn’t you, Tumi?’ His son nodded.

The police officers rose to their feet without another word. They put on their gloves and began placing all the items on the table in transparent plastic bags, which they sealed and labelled with a black marker pen. Nói thought they handled the letters with particular care. ‘We’ve all touched the notes.’ Better mention the fact.

‘That’s a pity. If you find anything else suspicious, don’t touch it, just call us straight away.’ All of a sudden they seemed to be taking the matter a lot more seriously.

‘I’ve also seen a man standing outside, staring at the house. At least I think it was a man. He moved away when he realised I’d spotted him.’ Nói heard Vala gasp.

‘Ring us if it happens again. Don’t attempt to approach him.’ The policemen caught one another’s eye again, apparently eager to leave. Nói saw them out. He felt too ill to process their sudden, unexpected concern. The fresh air alleviated his headache slightly and he paused briefly in the doorway. Then he closed the front door and decided to go and lie down.

He took one step into the hall, stopped dead as he registered what he had seen outside, then turned and reopened the front door. He could see the rear lights of the police car retreating down the road. But it wasn’t the car he was looking at.

The outside lights weren’t on, though – as he’d told the police – he had replaced the bulbs. They had been broken again.

Chapter 21

24 and 25 January 2014

The fine flakes of snow were falling so slowly it looked as if they might float up into the sky again. They settled on Nína’s eyelashes and when she tried to brush them away her mascara smudged. It didn’t really matter; she wasn’t expecting to see anyone and she could wash it off later. It might even be an advantage to look like a junkie if she did encounter someone, though, really, who on earth was likely to be in the garage? The moment she turned the door handle, however, her determination to stay calm and rational deserted her. It was unlocked. Suddenly the idea of someone lurking in the darkness inside didn’t seem so far-fetched. Although homeless people generally hung around the centre of town, there was nothing to prevent them from wandering out to the west end, so one of them could conceivably have sought temporary shelter or even be dossing down here. She hadn’t been inside for weeks and the presence of a squatter would explain the ball on the windowsill and the shadows that she thought she had seen moving behind the glass lately.

Before going in she peered through the haze of snow at the wall on the other side of the street. Presumably that was where Thröstur had sat thirty years ago, scribbling down licence-plate numbers. Through the snow crystals on her eyelashes it was easy to imagine she saw the indistinct outline of a child, pencil poised, waiting for a car to drive past through the slush. She looked away and memories rose unbidden to her mind of Thröstur’s reactions to the garage. At first he had been pleased to have a home for their old junk-heap of a car, but then one day he had stopped parking it inside. Presumably the explanation for that was to do with what had happened there in the past. Of course, she had yet to establish beyond doubt that it was Stefán’s case Thröstur had been a witness to, but it was hard to imagine what else it could have been.