Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Someone to Watch Over Me

‘No, I can’t say I do.’ Thóra took a deep breath before continuing. ‘Did you ever meet Ari in connection with Jakob’s case? Did he ever come here?’

‘Yes, I saw him after Jakob was moved here. He still recognized me, even after all that time.’

Thóra didn’t find that strange; she would be hard pressed to forget this man. ‘But if you think that Ari botched Jakob’s case in some way, and especially if you’re sure he did, you should come out and say so immediately. I’m sure I’d discover it for myself in the end, but it would be less expensive for you to tell me straight away.’

‘I’ll never have the chance to spend all of my money, so a few hours more or less don’t matter. Maybe I like watching you scurry around.’ He didn’t smile or alter his tone, so she couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny. ‘But I can tell you that Ari puts just enough effort into his work to make it impossible to criticize. It’s a talent some people have; you know they should be trying harder, but you can’t put your finger on anything in particular. For example, one of the cleaners here. She makes the beds but the sheet isn’t stretched well enough over the mattress, but it’s not so baggy that anyone would think to say anything about it.’ Jósteinn lifted his head slightly and stared at the embroidered cushion next to Thóra. He looked pale and didn’t seem aware of the heat in the room. ‘Anyone but me, that is. And why would they pay me any mind?’

Again Thóra chose to ignore the man’s complaints and forged on. ‘So you don’t know for certain that Ari mishandled Jakob’s case somehow?’

‘Actually, I do.’ Jósteinn didn’t look up, his gaze locked on the cross-stitching on the flowery cushion.

‘And would you consider sharing what you know with me?’ Thóra tried to hide her impatience, but was almost ready to shake the information out of the man – once she’d put on some rubber gloves.

‘I know that he didn’t do his job properly, and I can prove it.’ Jósteinn’s expression became almost cheerful. ‘He’s related to one of the victims, and I bet he didn’t tell anyone.’

‘How do you know, if he kept it to himself?’

‘Before I got into doing computer repairs I studied genealogy. I was looking through my own lineage for ancestors with whom I had things in common. I have distant connections to the family of my victim. When you have enough time to spend on your hobbies, you can make decent progress with them. When I’d run out of names to look up, I started on people I knew, and one day I searched for Ari’s family. When Jakob came here and I heard about his case, I recognized the name of one of the victims. After reviewing my records I saw that the father of one of the young men who burned to death was related to Ari. It seemed rather odd, considering Ari had chosen to defend the guy accused of the murders. I found it intriguing. It’s how I became interested in Jakob, actually.’

Thóra frowned. ‘I learned in school that if you go back far enough almost all Icelanders are related somehow. What was the link between these two?’

‘Ari and the father of the boy who died are first cousins. That’s rather closer than usual. You and I, for example, are related seven generations back.’

Thóra was repulsed at the thought that the man had been looking her up in search of some kind of family connection. She hoped his information was out of date, and he didn’t know about Gylfi and Sóley, or Orri. The thought that he’d so much as seen their names in print was unbearable. ‘First cousins?’ If this were true – and considering Jósteinn had a few screws loose, Thóra found it impossible to judge – it was most irregular. In fact, it was downright immoral.

‘He hasn’t really fulfilled his brief as Jakob’s lawyer, has he?’

Thóra didn’t reply, though she privately agreed. ‘Which young man was it?’

‘Tryggvi Einvarðsson. The son of Einvarður Tryggvason and grandson of Tryggvi Helgason; who is the brother of Gunnar Helgason, Ari’s father. So you see, Ari and Einvarður are first cousins. If you want, I can go back and link their lineages to me. I’ve got a great memory.’

‘No, thanks. That’s plenty.’

On the way out Thóra spotted Jakob. His back was turned to her as he bent over a sink in a kitchen that seemed rather small given the number of people living there, washing up with gusto. ‘Hello, Jakob.’ He turned around at her greeting, displaying a giant white apron with large wet patches. ‘How are you?’

Jakob looked at her and appeared not to realize who she was. Then a light clicked on and he beamed at her guilelessly. ‘Have you come to get me? Can I go home to Mummy?’

‘No, Jakob. Not yet, I’m afraid. I’m working on it, and I’ll do everything I can to make that happen. Until then, you’ve got to be brave.’ His smile faded and was replaced by a frown.

‘I’m very brave but I still want to go home.’

‘I know. Hopefully you can, but not today.’

‘Tomorrow?’ He cheered up again, and Thóra realized that she would have to choose her words more carefully, so as not to raise his hopes too much.

‘No, not tomorrow, Jakob. Have you thought some more about the night we talked about when I came here the other day? Tried to remember it better?’

Jakob shook his head. ‘I don’t want to think about it. I just feel bad if I do.’

Thóra nodded. ‘Tell me one thing – have you heard of a short hose? Something to do with the apartment that Natan lived in? Number 2?’ Jakob stared at her blankly and shook his head. ‘Okay, never mind. But you can probably tell me something else; what was the name of the girl who lived in the apartment at the end of the corridor? Do you remember?’

Jakob adopted a look of exaggerated bewilderment, squinting and frowning at the same time. ‘No. I don’t remember.’

‘Try to think back a bit; she was always in bed and didn’t speak.’

‘I never talked to her. She always just stared at me. It made me feel uncomfortable.’ He leaned forward a bit, his expression conspiratorial. ‘I think she was called Ragga but I don’t really know. She never did anything with us.’

‘Ragga?’ This could be short for Ragnhild, Ragnheiður or various other names. ‘Do you know whose daughter she was?’

‘No. Her mother and father had moved away. They never came. Maybe she wasn’t anyone’s daughter and was just called Ragga.’

Thóra smiled. ‘Maybe. Now, since I know you’re so brave, I’m going to ask you something different, and that’s how Ari, your lawyer, treated you. I know that you found him boring, but did he treat you badly? Was he ever mean, or angry?’

‘He was strange. He was never happy and he always wanted to talk about boring things. He was boring.’

‘But mean? Did you find him mean?’

‘Yes, he’s very mean. He… he kicks animals.’ Jakob didn’t meet her eye as he spoke and Thóra was fairly certain he had said it to try to please her. No matter what one might say about Ari and the bizarre situation he’d put himself in, she doubted he went around kicking animals in front of his clients.

‘Let’s just talk about what we know or have seen, and not what we think. Okay?’ Jakob nodded sheepishly. ‘Now, I know that you bit his arm, didn’t you?’

‘He was mean.’

‘Maybe, but why did you bite him? Maybe he’s mean but he must have said something that made you especially angry, mustn’t he?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And what was that, Jakob? It would be really great if you could tell me about it.’

Jakob’s tongue stuck out even further than usual and he licked his lips. ‘He was mean; he said that I was lying to him and also that I was lying to the police. He said that he would have me put in prison if I didn’t say that I started the fire and that I would never get to see Mummy. Never.’