Nightblind (16 page)

I hate it here. I feel bad, both physically and mentally, and I loathe it. Writing this stuff down does nothing to make it more bearable, seeing it in black and white just emphasises how lousy I feel.

There’s a television in the common room, but it’s summer, so the state broadcaster has closed down for a month. Just my luck to be locked away on a psychiatric ward in July. There isn’t a lot to break up the day. Sometimes there are entertainments in the evenings. To start with I stubbornly refused to attend, but today I gave in.

Evening entertainment. It’s an old expression that conjures up past times. There’s something comforting about the whole thing, something reliable in the monotony of it all.

Sometimes, in fact, quite often, I think of my mother.

If I had a sister, would she be like Mum? Clever and hard working, but without ever having followed her dreams, fulfilled her ambitions?

Do people start growing into their parents the moment they first draw breath, with the similarities becoming successively closer as time goes on? Or is there are tipping point somewhere? If so, when?

Dad has always worked long hours, and that has become worse in the last few years, with more responsibility and longer shifts meaning extended absences. And more. I know now that I am alone in all this.

It’s surprising what you can learn on a psychiatric ward.

Even though it was late, Ari Thór rang Tómas as soon as he had left Addi’s house, giving him a rough outline of their conversation, but without mentioning the conditions Addi had set in return for information.

He would have liked to have asked Tómas if there had been such an arrangement in place between the cousins in the past, but he knew it was a question he could never ask, just as he knew that Tómas would never answer it.

They discussed how best to respond to this new information. Was Addi a reliable source? Tómas seemed to think that he was, but they agreed that it would be difficult to keep their informant’s identity secret. If nothing else, it gave them a good reason to speak to Elín again. The question was whether or not it could wait until the following day.

Tómas took the decision to strike immediately. Ari Thór didn’t protest, but he felt a twinge of guilt about interrogating Elín after the terrible experience she had been through that day.

They set off to Gunnar’s house. It had been a surprise to Ari Thór that Elín had wanted to go there, but she had said that she had to be with someone she knew and trusted to talk things through. She didn’t seem to be concerned about what the vicious tongues of the local gossips might have to say.

‘It’s all a myth,’ Tómas said, almost to himself, as they drove. The wind had picked up considerably and a storm had been forecast that night. It was nothing unusual – with winter approaching and the days becoming noticeably shorter, he knew that this time of year could see dramatic changes in the weather, sudden snow or a rapid thaw with
driving rain. A sharp wind blew from the north. It was cold, bitterly cold, even in the solidly built patrol car. Ari Thór shivered and tightened the scarf at his neck, digging his hands deep into his pockets.

Ari Thór raised an eyebrow at his colleague, curious to discover what his mutterings meant.

‘A myth,’ Tómas repeated. ‘We imagine that we live in a country where there are no weapons and no violence,’ he said, with an unusually grim expression on his face. ‘The reality is somewhat different. There are far too many firearms here. I heard the figures that were quoted on the radio, not that I needed to be told. Almost every second person I know has a firearms licence. It’s a myth that this place is peaceful. No violence in Iceland? That’s bullshit. Sure, it all looks quiet and friendly on the surface, but behind closed doors there’s an uncomfortable secret. Domestic violence; and nobody wants to acknowledge it, let alone talk about it.’

They stopped outside Gunnar’s house. Tómas switched off the engine and continued speaking. Aware that Tómas had something on his mind, Ari Thór knew it was best to stay silent and let him keep talking.

‘And that useless piece of shit got what he deserved today … Yes, I know I shouldn’t say that kind of thing. But I’m tired and I’m angry, Ari Thór. I won’t deny it. I was bloody livid when I saw the treatment that woman had received,’ Tómas said pausing for breath, his face flushed. ‘Maybe the bastard was simply evil. Who knows? I can tell you, Ari Thór, that violence can be found everywhere – not just in the scum, but also in men who look thoroughly respectable. Heads of families in responsible positions, exemplary citizens in every way, except when they use their fists on woman and children. I know this. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, far too often.’

The dashboard clock showed it was almost one. Ari Thór was exhausted and however much he sympathised with Tómas’s anger, he needed to rest and longed for sleep.

‘Shouldn’t we wait until the morning, Tómas? It’s been a long day for her, and for all of us. I expect they’re both fast asleep.’

Ottó’s words of warning flashed through his mind. It probably wasn’t a smart move to be pestering the mayor and his deputy in the middle of the night. But Tómas wouldn’t be moved.

‘We’re investigating a murder, and you know as well as I do that this is no ordinary murder enquiry. Someone shot a police officer. Don’t forget that, Ari Thór. If we have to interrupt someone’s sleep, they’ll just have to live with it. This case is a priority. Herjólfur is a priority.’

They stepped out into the biting northerly wind, strong enough to set the street lights swaying gently. The darkness was overwhelming as Ari Thór battled against the gusts. He almost looked forward to the days of white winter snow, even though at times he still felt claustrophobic when the weight of snow on the town was at its heaviest.

Tómas hammered on the door, and they didn’t have to wait long before the mayor answered it, fully dressed, wide awake and frowning.

‘What now?’ He made no attempt to hide his impatience.

‘We need to speak to Elín. Is she still here?’

‘Of course she is. But can’t this wait? You must surely understand that she’s not in the best frame of mind to be receiving visitors right now.’

‘Could we come in for a few minutes?’ Tómas asked, firm but polite.

Gunnar hesitated before answering, his shoulders slumping. ‘All right, a few minutes.’

Elín sat in the living room with a coffee cup cradled in her hands. She looked at them, clearly tired, her eyes blank. She said nothing.

Tómas glanced at Ari Thór. He could imagine what he was thinking. Should they speak to her here, or to take her to the police station?

‘Could we have a quiet chat?’ Tómas asked, looking first at Elín and then quickly at Gunnar.

Considering the circumstances, Elín replied with remarkable calm. ‘We can talk here. I want Gunnar to stay.’

‘It’s not standard practice,’ Tómas said doubtfully, his expression mirroring an internal debate. He paused and sighed. ‘All right. If that’s the way you want it,’ he said quietly, decision made.

Ari Thór noticed that Gunnar took a seat some distance away from Elín, as if making the point that they weren’t as close as some people seemed to think.

For a moment nobody said anything. Tómas made no indication that he expected to manage the situation. Ari Thór had the information, so it was up to him to lead the questioning.

Eventually he took the plunge. He felt uncomfortable there, the uninvited guest in someone’s home in the middle of the night.

‘I … we have witness evidence, Elín, that you have been in contact with someone dealing drugs, in the building where Herjólfur was shot.’

It was as if a hand grenade had been rolled across the living room floor. Elín sat stiff, the amazement and fear clear on her face. Gunnar looked astonished, even horrified, uttering a loud gasp as his jaw visibly dropped. Maybe his feelings for Elín were stronger than he would like people to know?

Elín finally stammered a few words. ‘I … I thought you wanted to talk about Valli … what happened this evening … I, er. I don’t know if I should…’

Ari Thór almost expected Gunnar to rise to his feet and take a stand, arguing, demanding that they leave. Instead he sat motionless, without a word.

Ari Thór would have preferred to be more gentle, to shield this poor woman from the painful questions that were obviously distressing her, but her reactions demonstrated that a determined approach had been the right one, perhaps even bringing them a step closer to solving the mystery. Had they even found the attacker? Could Elín have murdered Herjólfur?

‘Is that right?’ he persevered. ‘That you did some business with a dealer out there?’

Elín appeared to be in shock, her silence almost a presence in the
room. Her eyes darted around, as if she was trying to make up her mind about whether she should tell the truth.

‘It’s best to make a clean breast of it now,’ Ari Thór said more gently. ‘It doesn’t look good, and lies are only going to make matters worse, Elín.’

‘I’m sorry, I haven’t lied…’ she said. ‘It wasn’t dope … not dope at all. I don’t do that stuff. You don’t think I shot the man, do you? I had nothing to do with that,’ she said, speaking rapidly, her voice shaky, terror evident on her face.

‘Not dope? What, then?’

‘Just painkillers. Just some fucking painkillers!’ She buried her face in her hands and then looked up through the tears. ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t come to terms with what happened this evening. Can we talk about this tomorrow?’

‘We have to get this straight now. Maybe it’s best if you come with us to the station.’

‘No! No, I couldn’t … Not now,’ she yelped, her shoulders shaking.

Ari Thór pressed on. ‘How much did you buy? How often? Why?’

Elín shook her head and said nothing.

‘How long have you been using prescription drugs?’

She shook her head again and mumbled. ‘I’m not … I … I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Was Herjólfur investigating you?’

Elín gave no reply.

‘Is this something Herjólfur had discovered?’ Ari Thór asked. He glanced at the mayor, who seemed to have no idea what to do, what he should say, or if he should say anything at all. Ari Thór waited for his reaction, a shout, a call or even some kind of insult. But when there was no response, he decided to change tack.

‘Did you have to kill him?’ he asked Elín calmly.

Elín sobbed and she looked to be on the brink of a nervous collapse. Ari Thór glanced towards Tómas, who shrugged, abnegating responsibility even though he had been determined to make the visit.

‘Did you…?’ Ari Thór repeated, and this time Elín interrupted.

‘I didn’t do anything!’ she yelled. ‘I didn’t kill him!’

‘I reckon it’s best that we take this down to the station.’

‘No … I don’t want to go … I haven’t done anything.’

Now Gunnar intervened, with more composure than Ari Thór had expected of him. He stood up.

‘That’s enough. She can’t take any more of this,’ he said. ‘I can explain. I’ll give you the truth. But that will be the end of it for now. Let her rest.’

For a moment Ari Thór thought that Gunnar was going to admit to the murder.

‘All I’m asking is for some consideration, for both of us, as much as is possible. Of course neither of us murdered Herjólfur. I don’t imagine that has even crossed your minds anyway, but it’s best to get everything out in the open.’

He paced around the living room as he spoke.

‘All the same, we haven’t been entirely open with you, and the responsibility for that is mine.’

The mayor sighed and paused for a moment before continuing.

‘It’s true that Elín acquired painkillers by … er … unconventional means, a handful of times. But she did it for me.’

‘For you?’ Ari Thór asked in surprise.

‘You see, I’ve had a condition that has been a problem for me.’ He waved his hands, as if to lighten the severity of the situation. ‘It’s not serious or anything like that. But I need to have these drugs. I need to use them to function properly, especially when I’m under pressure. The first few months here in a new job were stressful. I know it’s not the biggest municipality in the country, but it has still been tough, with a lot of powerful people expecting me to make a success of it. And I think I’ve done that … made a success of it, I mean. So far.’

Gunnar came to a halt in the middle of the living-room floor.

‘And you sent Elín to that place, to pick up your dope?’

‘I wouldn’t call it dope … I’m no addict … I’m just doing my best to get through life, in a new job, and more than likely about to lose my family … it hasn’t been easy. And I didn’t send anyone
anywhere. I asked Elín if she could help me out. I was doing fine before I moved up north, but I knew I’d be struggling if I didn’t have the right medication. Sometimes I’ve been able to get them from a doctor on prescription, but normally those aren’t strong enough and I’d come to the end of the line. I couldn’t keep on asking for stronger painkillers. Listen, I didn’t know which way to turn, and it wasn’t a risk I could take myself, the brand-new mayor, a familiar face, so…’

Ari Thór looked across at Elín and saw her nod in agreement.

‘That’s right,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Gunnar asked me to help out and I fixed it for him. As I always do.’

‘And Herjólfur was investigating you?’ Ari Thór asked. ‘Was that why he called you, Gunnar? Had he put two and two together?’

‘What? Well, no, quite the opposite.’ Gunnar paused and looked at Elín. ‘He called me to let me know that he had seen Elín up there and that he suspected there was some dope trading going on, or even something more than that. It hadn’t occurred to him that she was there for me.’

‘And how did you two react? By killing the man who was getting too close to the truth?’

‘What? Are you crazy? Of course not. We’re normal people, maybe in an unusual situation, but normal people don’t
kill
other people.’ He paused for a moment and glanced over at Elín, aware of the irony in his word. Shrugging, he continued, ‘Herjólfur must have had his eye on more than just Elín, bigger fish, sharks … Criminals who have plenty at stake and are used to violence. I admit I lied to you, to save my own skin, of course. But put yourselves in my shoes. Wouldn’t you have tried to keep something like this quiet?’

At the mention of bigger fish and sharks, Ari Thór’s thoughts went to Addi.

Tómas spoke, at last.

‘Could you come with us, Gunnar?’

Gunnar nodded, clearly spent. He looked over at Elín.

‘You stay here, Elín. See if you can get some sleep.’

‘We’ll take her statement in the morning. We’ll start with you now,’ Tómas said.

‘And then what? Will the media get hold of this? Are you going to…? I mean, will I be charged with anything?’

‘The investigation will have to take its course, Gunnar,’ Tómas said, his voice betraying his fatigue. ‘What happens next is not my decision, but I can assure you that we don’t give the media any inside information about this or any investigation. That’s out of the question.’

Ari Thór had spent long enough in Siglufjördur to know that it wouldn’t take long for the news to leak out. It could mean that Gunnar would be forced to resign. Maybe he’d be able to weather the storm by openly repenting and promising to deal with his problem. That sort of thing always went down well with the public. In little Iceland people were quick to forgive and quick to forget.