Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Someone to Watch Over Me

No matter what the reason for the fire, it was clear from the number of lives lost that it had been reckless and illogical. Potentially, then, the act of someone of limited intelligence, someone who didn’t comprehend the consequences of their actions – unless the perpetrator had deliberately made it look that way. But why, and who could it be? There weren’t many possibilities, but still Thóra’s mind spun in endless circles.

Who had sent her the text messages, and why? Who had known that the fire alarm system was offline? Was it a coincidence that the same lawyer had defended both Jakob and his creepy friend Jósteinn? Did the words look at me , which Jakob had repeated to her, have any significance? Had the residents been unhappy with their living conditions, unbeknownst to their parents, and was that significant? Why had only one staff member been on duty, not two – and who had been aware of this?

But the complexity of the case was not Thóra’s only problem. There were very few precedents for a petition to reopen a case, so other than the laws themselves, she didn’t have much to go on; and although these were clear, they weren’t particularly detailed. The case had to satisfy at least one of four criteria for the Supreme Court to approve the petition: new evidence that had come to light; an accusation that the police, the prosecution, the judge or other parties had prejudiced the case, especially through falsified evidence or false testimony; reasonable suspicion that the evidence presented in the case had been wrongly evaluated; or the discovery of substantial flaws in the prosecution of the case in court. Since any retrial required the prior authorization of the Supreme Court, Thóra didn’t need to present a perfect defence immediately, but merely demonstrate unequivocally that one or more of these prerequisites was met. If the petition were approved, the case would move to the next level.

She still hadn’t come across anything to suggest any element of wrongdoing on the part of the police, prosecutor or judge, though there was the question of whether Lísa’s pregnancy should have been made clearer. As the autopsy report was part of the case files she couldn’t present the pregnancy as new evidence, even though this detail hadn’t come up in court. The third criterion, however – insufficient evaluation of the evidence – could be enough to reopen the case; she was thinking not only of Lísa’s condition, but also of Jakob’s description of the angel with a suitcase, which in her opinion had not been dealt with appropriately in court. If it was true that he had tried to inform the police of this detail, then his testimony had not been recorded; at least, Thóra couldn’t find it in the reports or other files. She was also interested in the fourth requirement, the one concerning flaws in the prosecution of the case, and Ari’s performance in this regard. Although it would be tough to prove that he hadn’t acted in his client’s best interests, Thóra was convinced of it. The best thing would be if she were to unearth new evidence. Then they could run the case back through the system, with a fairer outcome.

As Thóra considered these points, she couldn’t avoid the most difficult question, the one really plaguing her: when all was said and done, was she sure Jakob wasn’t guilty? Perhaps he was more cunning than she gave him credit for, and had had the sense to keep all the apartment doors open so the fire could spread freely. Unlikely though it seemed, it wasn’t out of the question that Jakob had more organizational ability than they credited him with. His innocent appearance might be colouring her view of him, and it was conceivable that there was something in what Glódís and Ari had said about Jakob’s violent tendencies. Perhaps it would help if she could see footage of a typical day at the home – if the filmmaker had such a thing and were willing to share it with her. She really had no firm grasp on what it had really been like there. She wasn’t expecting to see someone scurrying around trying out the door mechanisms, or climbing a stepladder to inspect the sprinkler system, but maybe she would get a better feeling for the conditions that might have set the fateful sequence of events in motion. She didn’t have any further evidence to suggest Jakob’s innocence; for the moment, it looked as though she was relying on lots of small things combining to become greater than the sum of their parts .

She recalled Jakob’s description of the angel with the suitcase and sighed heavily. She had no idea what he’d meant, but right now the ‘angel’ was just as likely to have started the fire as anyone else.

Thóra logged off the Internet in order to avoid the temptation to sit there reading the day’s news. She needed to get to work, and besides, the news was always rather depressing. Foreign news had always been more exciting than domestic news, but after the bank crash, all that had been reversed. Icelandic drama – yes please! The more she read and heard in passing from better-informed colleagues, the more appalled she was by how events had panned out before the crash. In some ways, Thóra envied her parents, who must surely be the only ones who felt that this was all some sort of misunderstanding. Still, they were victims of the criminal masses and had lost more than most people Thóra knew, although everyone had been affected in some way. She missed the time when everything had been fine; when the nation had celebrated its handball team’s medal in the Olympic Games and the Icelanders’ successes in foreign markets had seemed unstoppable. Now that was all so unreal. She resolved to stop reading about the crash in the mornings; it was unhealthy for anyone to start the day on such a depressing note. It was bad enough having to look at Bella.

‘The coffeemaker’s broken.’ The secretary leaned against the doorframe. It looked as if she had an entire pack of gum in her mouth. ‘It just stopped working.’

‘Broken? Did it stop working and then break, or did it break first then stop working?’ Thóra didn’t know why she was even asking; she had heard something breaking out in the corridor but hadn’t dared to go and see what was happening, since it was followed by Bella’s colourful curses, which still echoed in her ears.

‘It stopped working because it’s broken.’ Bella’s face displayed no flicker of amusement. ‘You’ve got to buy a new one, right now in fact. There’s no way I can spend a day here without coffee.’

‘Isn’t there any instant? We have a kettle somewhere, and I haven’t got time to go and buy a new coffeemaker.’

‘Are you joking? Only wimps drink that stuff. Do I look like a wimp?’

Thóra couldn’t help but answer in the negative. A wimp was the last thing her scowling secretary resembled. She had recently been experimenting with her hair colour and it was currently fluorescent green. This had left her hair extremely dry, which, coupled with its tendency to stick up vertically, made the effect even more alarming. ‘You should have thought of that before you broke the machine. How exactly did you manage it?’ The coffeemaker had stood securely on the table in reception. Maybe Bella had been practising gymnastics and run into it; such a thing wouldn’t be unheard of.

‘I threw my phone at it.’ Bella said this without blinking. ‘The noise it was making was driving me mad.’

Thóra was on the verge of making a maddening noise herself, but she bit her tongue. ‘Then I’m sure you’ll enjoy the whistling of the kettle when you make some instant coffee. I’d put it in the same place – I think it will withstand your attacks better than the coffeemaker.’ Thóra turned to her computer. ‘Now leave me alone, please. I’m busy. Some of us actually do some work here, however alien the concept may seem to you.’ She made a point of not ducking when she turned away; Bella didn’t have anything in her hands that she could throw. Still, it was sensible to stay on your guard, so she watched her secretary out of the corner of her eye as she hovered in the doorway like a thundercloud before turning on her heel and vanishing. Thóra would have to remember to be careful when she left the office later. The filmmaker, Sveinn, had agreed to meet her and although she wouldn’t be able to take any material away, she could watch the video he’d made at the residence. If she noticed anything particularly interesting, he was willing to negotiate with her about making her copies of the material. He had also explained at length that what he had filmed was pretty raw; he hadn’t had a chance to edit it yet and it was unlikely that he ever would, since the project’s financial backing had dried up. That actually suited Thóra fine; if the material was unedited, she was more likely to figure out what she was looking for. She planned to take Matthew with her, since two pairs of eyes were better than one, and he would also be glad to get away from her parents for a bit. Hopefully he would get himself some coffee on the way to the office.