Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Someone to Watch Over Me

‘Uh…’ Lena hesitated. ‘No. Not any more, anyway.’ She paused before continuing. ‘We had some from the time when Tryggvi still lived at home but we threw them out when we were going through his room; they only rubbed salt in the wound. I can assure you they weren’t connected to the fire at all. At least as far as I could see.’

‘Were you ever present when Tryggvi was in therapy? I’m trying to find out whether he might have expressed himself in a different, clearer way to the person treating him. Perhaps even without pictures.’

Lena scowled. ‘It was a horrible thing to have to watch, and Tryggvi hated it. It might have worked, but for fuck’s sake, what was the point, really? It’s not like Tryggvi could enjoy the results, and it’s awful to think he suffered like that for nothing before he died.’

‘So you witnessed it?’

‘Once, twice. That was enough.’ Her beautiful face became severe. ‘The man repeated the same thing over and over: Look at me, look at me… He held Tryggvi’s chin and forced him to look into his eyes. He said he was getting Tryggvi to form a relationship or a connection with him, something like that. I don’t remember which, and anyway it doesn’t matter. My brother would writhe and twist his head trying to escape, but he couldn’t.’ The anger in her voice was gone when she continued. ‘Tryggvi couldn’t look people in the eye. He found it uncomfortable. I don’t understand how Mum could bear to be there.’

‘Was she always present during the sessions?’ Matthew knew that Fanndís had often hung around at the care home, but he was surprised to hear that she’d been involved in the therapy.

‘No, not always, but often. She didn’t pre-arrange it or anything, but if the man was there when we arrived, she used to go in and watch. I don’t know what she did when she went alone or with my dad, but presumably the same.’

‘And what did you do while the therapy was going on? Did the residence even have a waiting room?’ Matthew couldn’t remember seeing such a thing during his and Thóra’s visit to the burned-out building.

‘I just hung around in the lobby. That was all right, because I got to know some of the staff members and could chat with them. Several of them were my age.’

‘Did you know the night watchman who died in the fire?’ Matthew couldn’t remember what the man was called and cursed himself for not having memorized the names of the main people involved before coming to this meeting. It would have been better if Thóra had accompanied him, but he hadn’t had much choice.

‘Friðleifur? Yes, I knew him.’

‘It’s our understanding that he was suspected of having been drunk at work. Were you aware of anything like that?’

‘No.’ Lena frowned. ‘He was certainly never drunk when I was there, but he actually worked mainly at night, so I don’t know what he got up to then. I met him mostly on weekend mornings before he went home from his shift. I’m no expert but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t drunk on those occasions.’ She stared at the melting ice cube floating in her glass and corrected herself. ‘No, I’m absolutely sure.’

‘It’s also our understanding that he received visitors, in the mornings on the weekends and maybe during the night. Do you know anything about that?’

Lena continued to stare at the ice for a moment but then shrugged apathetically. ‘I only know that he was told off about some beer cans; maybe he had visitors who were drinking beer or something. It wasn’t long before the fire, but I have no idea whether it was him, the other night watchman, someone they let in, or what.’ She looked up briefly from her glass at Matthew. ‘Do you think maybe they let in some visitors who started the fire?’

‘There’s really no evidence yet. But do you know which of their friends or acquaintances might possibly have come to visit? We need to speak to those people, if possible.’

Lena shook her head. ‘No. It was just some people. I didn’t know the night watchmen that well. Friðleifur maybe a bit more, but I didn’t really know anything about him.’

‘What was the name of the other night watchman again?’

Lena was silent and appeared to be engaged in a psychological tug-of-war. ‘You’ll find it out anyway, won’t you? Whether I give you his name or not?’

‘Yes, we already have it. He just hasn’t answered Thóra’s phone calls and I can’t remember it at the moment. Obviously he would know better than anyone what went on there at night-time even if he was sick at home on that particular night. Apparently.’

‘Okay.’ She took a sip of her drink and looked at her phone, as if she were hoping it would ring and save her. The grey screen stared back at her without blinking. ‘You won’t say where you got the name, will you? I don’t want to get anyone into trouble.’

‘No, no. I won’t say a thing, since there’s no reason to. As I said, we already have it – I just can’t remember it.’

Lena nodded so slightly that it was barely noticeable. ‘Look, there were two different teams who worked on the night shift, one week on, one week off, and it was generally always the same guy working with Friðleifur. Occasionally it was someone else, but your best bet by far would be to talk to the man who usually worked with him. The others are probably less important, because they were only with him for the odd night now and then.’

‘And what’s his name?’

‘Margeir. I don’t know his surname.’

The hot tub was warmer than usual and dense steam rose in the cold. From the dark sky snowflakes drifted down onto Thóra and Matthew’s heads as they sat there soaking, with wrinkled fingers and just as wrinkled toes. Sóley was in the children’s pool with her arm round Orri, but Thóra didn’t take her eyes off them in case she lost sight of Sóley’s brightly coloured swimsuit and Orri’s chubby form in the steam that surrounded the group of kids in the shallow water. She and Matthew had given in to their repeated pestering and gone to the pool while Thóra’s mother prepared dinner. There weren’t many adults there and they sat alone in the hot tub; this was the life. This was actually the only sport that Thóra liked doing; unlike Matthew’s running, you could stop whenever you wanted. When you went out for a run, once you got exhausted you still always had to get back home.

‘I don’t really know what to think.’ Thóra slipped further down into the water to warm up her shoulders a bit. ‘The police were keeping their cards close to their chests but I’m convinced it’s Margeir they found dead at Nauthólsvík Beach yesterday. Why would they be concerning themselves with calls to and from his phone, unless it’s because they can’t ask him personally?’ Although she’d resolved to avoid watching the news, she’d scanned the Internet after her conversation with the policeman in the hope of finding out what the case was about. The reason the police were interested in speaking to her was that she’d called Margeir’s mobile phone the day before, and the day before that, too. At first Thóra didn’t understand what the problem was, but she soon worked it out and explained why she’d been trying to contact him. Once that was out of the way, she managed to get to the real reason she’d phoned them, which was to report that Ragna Sölvadóttir had also been abused at the residence. She’d also tried to find out – unsuccessfully – why the police were investigating Margeir’s phone. Because she’d made so little progress on that front, she’d taken a chance on the news, which reported that the body of a young man had been found at Nauthólsvík, apparently the victim of a crime. The name of the deceased could not yet be disclosed. But it seemed clear to Thóra from talking to the police – the mention of a death, then the questions about her calls to Margeir – that the mobile she had called must have been found on or near this body, in which case it was likely to be Margeir.