Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Last Rituals

Hugi smiled. "No, no way. We stayed friends. Harald was just in Iceland temporarily and I knew it would pass. If anything I found it quite funny seeing Dori in the role of the admirer. Up to then he'd always been the one I looked up to; it was sort of a change, seeing him in my role, you know. Not that Dori ever treated me the way Harald treated him, not so kind and not such a bastard either." Suddenly Hugi's expression turned anxious. "I didn't kill him to get my friend back. It wasn't like that."

"No, perhaps not," said Matthew. "But tell me one thing. If you didn't kill him, who did? You must have some theories. You know it can't have been suicide or an accident."

Hugi's eyes dropped back to the floor. "I don't know. If I knew, I'd say. I don't want to be here."

"Do you think your friend Dori killed him?" Thora asked. "Are you covering for him?"

Hugi shook his head. "Dori would never kill anyone. Least of all Harald. I told you he worshipped him."

"Yes, but you also said Harald was nasty to him, humiliated him in front of the others. Maybe he had got fed up and attacked in a fit of rage. That happens," said Thora.

Hugi looked up, firmer than before. "No. Dori's not like that. He's studying to be a doctor. He wants to help people live, not kill them."

"Hugi, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but doctors have killed people for centuries. All professions have their rotten apples," said Matthew sarcastically. "But if it wasn't Doriwho was it?"

"Maybe Marta Mist," muttered Hugi unconvincingly. She clearly wasn't his number one. "Maybe Harald called her 'Nebel' once too often."

"Marta Mist, yes," Matthew said. "That's a great theory apart from the fact that she has a watertight alibi. Like everyone else in this little witches' coven of yours. Except Dori perhaps. His alibi is the shakiest. It's quite conceivable that he could have popped out of the bar, killed Harald, and gone back in without anyone noticing."

"And got the same seat? At Kaffibrennslan on a Saturday night? I don't think so." Hugi sneered.

"No one else springs to mind?" Thora asked.

Hugi puffed up his cheeks and then exhaled. "Maybe someone from the university. I don't know. Or someone from Germany." He made sure not to look at Matthew when he said this, as if he expected him to be hypersensitive about his countrymen. "I know Harald was celebrating something that evening. He told me he wanted to buy some dope from me to mark some occasion or something."

"What kind of 'something'?" snapped Matthew. "You must be clearer. What exactly did he say?"

Hugi looked affronted. "Exactly? I can't remember exactly but it was something to do with something he'd found at last. He shouted something in German and clenched his fist. Then he put his arms around me and squeezed me really hard and said I'd have to fix up some Es because he was in a really good mood and wanted to party like hell."

"Was that when you left the party?" Thora asked. "After he squeezed you and asked for some Es?"

"Yes, soon after. I was so out of it. I'd drunk too much and tried to sober up with some speed. It didn't work. I was way too drunk. Anyway, we took a taxi back to my place and all I remember was that I couldn't find any Es. I was so hammered I couldn't even have found the milk in the fridge. I remember Harald was pretty pissed off with me and said it was a fucking waste of time. And I remember lying down on the sofa because my head suddenly started spinning."

Thora interrupted Hugi. "Did you say you didn't let him have any ecstasy?"

"I couldn't find them," Hugi replied. "I was out of it, like I said."

Thora looked at Matthew without saying a word. The autopsy report stated that the active substance from ecstasy had been found in Harald's blood, so at some stage he had got hold of some. "Could he have taken some earlier that evening? Or found them at your place when you passed out?"

"He hadn't done any at the party, that's for sure. He wasn't acting that way and I know the effects. And there's no way he found them at my place because the police dug them out from the storage room in the basement when they searched my flat. I'd stashed them there and had the key in my pocket. Harald couldn't have looked in the storage room; I doubt he even knew about it. Maybe he went home to get some. I know he had a few that he said weren't much good. Why are you so interested in this?"

"Are you sure Harald didn't look in your pockets and find the key? You might not remember now, but maybe you told him at the time," said Matthew. "Try to remember. You were lying on the sofa with your head spinning, and then what?"

Hugi squeezed his eyes shut and did everything he could to recall the incident. Suddenly he opened his eyes and looked at them in astonishment. "Yes, I remember. I didn't say anything, but Harald said something to me. He bent down and whispered something to me. I remember I really wanted to answer him and ask him to wait for me but I couldn't."

"What? What did he say?" Matthew asked impatiently.

Hugi looked unsure of himself. "Maybe this is bullshit but I think he said: Sweet dreams. We'll celebrate later. I came to Iceland looking for hell, and guess what? I've found it ."

"Don't be a jerk." Marta Mist pursed her lips and blew out a long stream of smoke. She tipped the ash from her half-smoked cigarette and then stubbed it out. "You're just making things worse, so don't think you're doing anyone a favor." She narrowed her green almond-shaped eyes at the young man who was sitting, or rather lounging, on a chair on the other side of the table. He glared back but said nothing. Marta Mist sat up straight and ran her slender fingers through her curly red hair.

"Come on, don't give me that look. You got us into this, so don't imagine you can suddenly turn into a model citizen with a guilty conscience." For support she looked at her girlfriend who was sitting beside her. The best she got out of the young blond girl was a wide-eyed nod. The girl had a crew cut and was boyish-looking, but she could never be mistaken for a boy. She was buxom but petite. From the rear she must have looked like a child sitting beside willowy Marta Mist, who had more to say. "That's typical male crap and it makes me puke. Chickening out when the shit hits the fan." She leaned back in her chair, contented. Her friend, not daring to look at either of them, concentrated on her soda.

"For God's sake," Dori replied, pretending to ram his finger down his throat. "How about dropping those fucking cliches just for once?" Annoyance crept over his features and as he stared at Marta Mist his upper lip curled involuntarily, revealing his white teeth. He looked the other way and took a drag off his cigarette. When he exhaled his anger was waning and he added in a slightly calmer tone: "You ought to be glad if I went to the police. Don't you think the women's prison would be utopia? Nothing but women there." He gave her a sarcastic grin.

Marta Mist gave as good as she got. "Then we could phone each other and swap happy tales. You'd be popular in prison too, sweetie, a pretty little boy like you." She returned his nasty grin.

"Aw, cut it out." Briet spoke up at last. The others only looked at her in mute surprise, so she went back to peering into her glass, blushing now. Then she muttered into her cleavage: "I'm not interested in going to the women's prison, and I don't want you going to prison either." She looked up and stared at Dori. "I'm terrified."

Dori smiled at her, genuinely. He liked her. In fact, he realized he was really very fond of heralthough he had still not decided whether it was anything more than sexual. "No one's going to prison." He looked up at Marta Mist. "Look what you've done, scaring Briet out of her wits with all this bullshit."