Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Someone to Watch Over Me

What did she want from him? Surely not more files, and probably not advice. No, she must want to ask about something that he would find it difficult to answer; for example, why he hadn’t put up a proper defence in Jakob’s case. It didn’t take a close analysis of the files to see that he hadn’t argued the case with much diligence. He didn’t want to go over it word for word with that self-righteous cow. She would hardly have done much better in his shoes; it wasn’t that easy to stay focused when your life was falling apart. Admittedly, he had the tendency to make mistakes in the courtroom, but this could be attributed to force majeure : circumstances beyond his control that prevented him fulfilling his obligations to his client. In this case it hadn’t been about any natural disaster but a war, a battle royale being waged in his private life. His wife had left him. She’d grown tired of the little apartment that had replaced the elegant family home he’d gambled away, and all his attempts to persuade her to return had come to nothing. He’d needed all his mental energy to deal with her, and when it had come to Jakob’s case, he’d had nothing left. Of course he should have turned down the case, but he had really needed the money – and he’d also found it difficult to refuse the favour. He’d been confident that it would be a quick buck because the case would progress through the judicial system speedily; firstly because the authorities wanted to tie up the case as soon as possible to avoid prolonging the media circus, and secondly because of the accused’s disability – no one had seemed to know what to do with him when the case was in court.

So why shouldn’t he have taken the case and tried to argue it as best he could under the circumstances? It wasn’t as if his client had had the brains to complain. Nor had he been of any help, spouting nonsense about angels and suitcases and all sorts of other rubbish that was of no use when it came to constructing a defence. In any case, everyone knew what the verdict would be: guilty, but not criminally liable. The judges didn’t need it spoon-fed to them; they only had to look at the defendant. He had confessed, then of course withdrawn his confession in his own peculiar way, then confessed once more. There had been no point in dragging things out, and it was unfair to look only at the court documents when considering the case as a whole. It wasn’t as though the prosecutor’s performance had been any better. Everyone had sped through the hearing, since there had been no reason to extend the suffering of the poor man, who had stared wide-eyed and fearful throughout the proceedings.

Remembering this made him pluck up his courage and he picked up the phone. It was better to face your demons head on. He dialled Thóra’s number without hesitating, but at the second ring he also considered the idea that it was better to run away from your demons at top speed. At that moment Thóra answered and he stammered, ‘Yes, hi, this is Ari. I see you’ve been trying to reach me.’

‘Yes, hello.’ Thóra sounded surprised and it sounded like she was in a car.

‘Are you driving? Maybe I should call back later.’

‘No, it’s fine. I’ve been trying to reach you, and I’m only the passenger.’

‘Was there something in particular you wanted?’

‘Yes there was. I came across something that surprised me and I wanted to discuss it with you, to see if by any chance you might be able to explain it.’

‘Oh?’ Ari felt his palms sweating.

‘Well, actually there are two things. One of them is the fact that you’re related to the father of one of the people who died in the fire: Einvarður Tryggvason.’

Ari said nothing, but squeezed his eyes shut and licked his dry lips. ‘Yes, we’re distantly related. That had no bearing on anything.’

‘Did you notify the judge of this? Or Jakob? I didn’t see a note of it anywhere.’

‘Uh, probably.’ Ari swallowed; suddenly his mouth went dry. ‘Yes, I think I probably did.’

‘Right.’ Now it was Thóra’s turn to remain silent for a bit. ‘Then I’ll probably find it down at the District Court. I’m sure you recall that according to the 9th Article of the Codex Ethicus of the Icelandic Bar Association, you’re obliged to make your client aware of anything that might have a bearing on your relationship with the opposing party. The article specifically stipulates kinship. It’s also the subject of Article 33 of the Acts on the Treatment of Criminal Cases – fourth paragraph, if you’d like to look it up.’

‘Yes, yes. I’ll let you know. I’m sure I did, I think.’ Ari cleared his throat. ‘What was the other thing you wanted to ask about?’

Thóra didn’t believe for a second that the man was telling the truth, but there was no need to force a confession out of him – it would be easy to prove he was lying by checking up. ‘Well, the person who’s paying for my investigation also appears to be an old client of yours. I’m a bit surprised that you didn’t mention it when we spoke the other day. Jósteinn Karlsson, just in case you’ve forgotten. I understand that you’re also his supervisor, so you must have at least some recollection of the man.’

Too fucking right I remember him . He interrupted her. ‘I didn’t think it mattered. What gives you the idea that there’s something suspicious about it? Iceland is a small country, as you know, and its legal profession is even smaller.’ Could his luck get any worse? Of all the cases in his long career, this was the one he least wanted to be dragged up again.

‘I’ve met Karlsson, of course, and feel I should mention that he insinuated that the reason he initiated this investigation was to stir up trouble for you.’

‘That’s strange. No one would be happier than I would if there was new evidence demonstrating Jakob’s innocence. But it comes as no surprise that Jósteinn should be upset with me. People who are dissatisfied with the way their cases turn out usually blame their lawyers for it, as I’m sure you know. It doesn’t seem to occur to any of them that they may be at least partly responsible for how things end up.’

‘Maybe.’ Thóra wasn’t convinced. ‘So he has no score to settle with you?’

‘No.’ Ari didn’t think he sounded very convincing, so he repeated himself. ‘No.’ It came out just as hollow the second time.

‘If I needed to reach you again, when would be the best time to contact you?’

‘Uh, in the afternoons.’

‘Fine. Thank you for this; I’ll probably be back in touch before too long.’

‘Sure.’ Ari did his best to sound nonchalant, but he couldn’t achieve the right tone. When he said goodbye, his palms were just as sweaty as they had been when they’d first started talking. Why had he ever considered calling the woman in the first place?

Thóra put her phone in her bag and looked at Matthew, who was driving down the street to their house. ‘That was Ari, the lawyer. I’d be willing to bet that he messed up pretty badly in Jósteinn’s case.’ She shut her bag. ‘I’m itching to read through the court documents again.’

‘Okay.’ Matthew parked next to Thóra’s parents’ car. ‘And there was I thinking we were going to play a computer game.’

The monitor was starting to flicker. It really was time to replace it, though Thóra was not at all keen on the idea, given how expensive everything had become. Ideally the useless hunk of junk would survive for however many months or years it took the króna to recover, but she couldn’t really rely on that happening. She could of course try to buy a used monitor, but she didn’t even know whether that kind of shop existed in Reykjavík. Unless she bought one from Jósteinn… No chance, she thought, shuddering; she would rather pay full price than negotiate a deal with someone who disgusted her. Her tolerance of him had diminished even further after she’d acquainted herself with the details of his crimes.