Michael Ridpath - 66 Degrees North

She shook her head. ‘Six months later the shit hit the fan, the stock price fell to zero practically, and the bank was nationalized. But somehow the loan I had taken out was still there.’

‘Presumably everyone else suffered too?’

Harpa’s laugh had no humour and a tinge of hysteria. ‘A lot of us did. But not the true “golden circle”. While we were buying, they were selling. Gabríel sold three-quarters of his shares and had paid down all his loan.’

‘So you dumped him?’ Magnus asked.

‘I didn’t know anything about that at that stage.’ Harpa sighed. ‘He dumped me. There used to be a rule in all the banks that staff in a relationship couldn’t work together. After Gudmundur arrived, that rule was reinstated. Guess who had to go?’

‘Tough,’ Magnus said.

‘Yes. Though once I had left, my friends told me Gabríel was having an affair with a twenty-three-year-old trainee anyway. It was very convenient for him.’

Harpa’s bitterness had overwhelmed her initial confusion.

‘Can you tell me what happened the night he died?’

‘Killed himself, you mean?’

‘Died.’ Magnus repeated himself firmly.

‘But I told your colleague in January.’

‘Tell us again,’ said Magnus. He had pulled out his notebook. Árni’s notes from that first interview, which Magnus had skimmed on the way to Seltjarnarnes, were very sketchy.

Harpa hesitated, as if looking for a way out. There wasn’t one.

‘I went to the demonstration that afternoon in the Austurvöllur square outside the Parliament building. I met a man there, Björn Helgason. After the tear gas broke up the protest, I went back to his place.’

‘Where was that?’ Magnus asked.

‘Up the hill by the Catholic Cathedral. Actually it was his brother’s flat. Björn lives in Grundarfjördur; he was staying with his brother so he could attend the demo.’

‘Was Björn’s brother there?’

‘No, he was out somewhere or other.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘We had a drink. We talked. We got to the point where I thought something might happen. But then… then I guess I got cold feet. I felt bad about Gabríel. I needed to see him. So I called him and told him to meet me at B5 on Bankastraeti.’

‘What did Björn think about that?’

‘He seemed disappointed, but he was a gentleman about it. He insisted on giving me his number.’

‘So then what happened?’

‘So I walked over to Bankastraeti. Got into B5 and waited. Gabríel never came. By this stage I was a bit drunk. Some student began to annoy me. I slapped him. He slapped me. A couple of guys stepped in to protect me. The barman threw the student out.’

‘What was the student’s name?’ Magnus asked, knowing the answer from Árni’s notes.

‘Ísak, I think,’ Harpa said. ‘I can’t remember.’

‘And then?’

‘I got a text from Gabríel. It said something like “Gone swimming. Sorry. Goodbye.” I didn’t really understand this, but I was pretty drunk at the time. I think I assumed it was a typical smart-arse Gabríel remark meaning he was standing me up. So I called Björn and asked him to pick me up.’

‘What time was all this?’ Magnus asked.

‘I don’t know. Midnight? One? Two? I told your colleague at the time.’

And my colleague didn’t write it down, Magnus thought.

‘OK. And where did you go with Björn?’

‘Back to his brother’s place,’ said Harpa. ‘And what happened then you can guess.’

‘Did you see the brother?’

‘I did, but not till the following morning. I saw him on my way out.’

‘And what time was that?’

‘No idea. Can’t remember. But as I was walking home – I walked the whole way, I do remember that – I started thinking about the text Gabríel sent me. It worried me. I dithered a bit, but once I got home I rang the police.’

The story was possible, unlikely, but possible. But there was one thing that made no sense to Magnus. ‘Why did you suddenly call Gabríel Örn? You just told me why you hated him, for what seem to me to be perfectly good reasons.’

‘Er…’ Magnus waited, as Harpa struggled. It seemed to him that she was trying to remember something, rather than figure something out, as if the key thing for her was to repeat what she had said before rather than to come out with the truth.

‘I suppose I still loved him,’ she said.

‘Oh, come on!’ said Magnus. ‘He’d behaved appallingly to you.’

‘Yes,’ Harpa said. ‘But I was a bit drunk, I had never been with a man since Gabríel Örn, I was nervous, scared even. I felt guilty.’

Magnus shook his head. ‘I don’t believe any of this.’

‘I don’t care what you believe!’ Harpa cried. ‘I don’t know what I believe, now. After Gabríel’s death everything changed. I can’t remember why I loved him, I can’t remember how I felt towards him then. The man I loved killed himself! Yes, I hate him. Yes, sometimes I love him. And sometimes I feel guilty. I don’t know why, but I do.’ She fought to control herself. ‘Now I have no idea why I called him. I was a different person then.’

That, Magnus could believe. It was difficult to imagine how a normal woman would feel if her former boyfriend killed himself, no matter how horrible he had been to her. He knew it wouldn’t be logical; it wouldn’t be consistent.

But everyone was making an assumption here, an assumption that Magnus was not entirely happy with.

‘Harpa,’ Magnus leaned forward, facing her over the kitchen table, ‘do you think there is a chance that Gabríel Örn’s death wasn’t suicide?’

‘No,’ said Harpa. ‘No chance at all. It was suicide. It must have been. You investigated it.’

‘Did Gabríel Örn have any enemies?’ Magnus asked. ‘Apart from you, that is?’

‘What are you insinuating?’

‘I’m just asking a question.’

‘A lot of people didn’t like Gabríel Örn. He was scum, basically.’

‘And the world’s better off without him?’

‘No!’ said Harpa, looking close to tears now. ‘No! Not at all! You are twisting my words. His death was dreadful, as was Óskar’s. Now why don’t you go out and find out who killed them?’

‘Them?’ said Magnus with half a smile.

‘Him, damn you! Óskar! And don’t try to trick me, it doesn’t prove anything. Now please go.’

‘Your instincts were right, Árni,’ Magnus said as they drove back downtown. ‘No wonder she didn’t want her father to stay. She’s not telling us the truth.’

‘I thought so. Do you think we should have kept him there?’

‘No, she would just have clammed up completely,’ Magnus said. ‘Árni, you must take more detailed notes. What you’ve got on that interview in January is useless. You must write down the specifics. That’s how you catch people out, when they get the details wrong.’

‘It didn’t seem important at the time,’ said Árni. ‘We were just going through the motions. The Big Salmon was clear that this was suicide and nothing more.’ The Big Salmon was Snorri Gudmundsson, the National Police Commissioner. ‘Also, I was tired. I was in that demo too, you know, but I was the one having skyr thrown at me. They pulled in everyone, including the guys from CID, we did sixteen-hour shifts protecting the Parliament building. I think I had just done twelve hours straight before I was told to investigate this case.’

Magnus grunted as he skimmed Árni’s notes on the interview with Björn Helgason. That too was brief.

‘Did Björn corroborate what Harpa said?’

‘Yes,’ said Árni. ‘And he was much more convincing. You are not suggesting we should go and see him in Grundarfjördur, are you? That’s at least two hours away. It would take a whole day to get there and back.’