Michael Ridpath - The Polar Bear Killing

‘He wasn’t ill at all,’ said Magnus.

‘Obviously not.’

‘Has Gudrún been in touch?’

‘Yes. She says that with what has happened, she won’t be coming back to university next year. I told her not to rush to a decision; she has the whole summer. I’m sure she would be better here in Reykjavík than stuck in Raufarhöfn by herself. I read she has a brother?’

‘Yes. Sveinn. She didn’t mention him?’

‘No. I hope they can stick together. Support each other.’

‘You didn’t ask her why she lied to you?’

‘No. Given what has happened, I’m willing to forget it.’

‘Of course,’ said Magnus. ‘Thanks for your help.’

‘Not at all,’ said Dr Árndís. ‘If you do see her, tell her I think she has a bright future. She shouldn’t throw it away. She should come back here.’

In the car park, Magnus dialled Vigdís’s number. He was sure she would want to hear what he had to say. She didn’t pick up. He knew he ought to get hold of Inspector Ólafur directly, but he thought he would give Vigdís one more try later.

Vigdís passed Martin in the lobby of the hotel. He had no doubt been waiting for her.

‘Vigdís! Are you OK?’ he asked in English.

‘No,’ said Vigdís. She was tempted to just walk up the stairs and ignore him, but she paused.

‘Are you in trouble?’ He did at least seem concerned.

‘Yes. Much trouble.’

‘I’m very sorry. I suppose we should not speak to each other?’

‘No, Martin,’ Vigdís said. ‘No.’

‘OK.’ He looked sad. Despite everything, Vigdís was pleased to see how sad he looked. ‘OK. I understand. It’s a shame but I don’t want to mess up your life.’

Vigdís turned and walked up the stairs to her room. The maids had not been in yet. The sheets where he had slept were still a mess, and she thought she could still smell him.

She had been so stupid! First Magnus and now an unknown German! What was she thinking? What was happening to her?

She sat on the bed. It just seemed so unfair. Other people could have fun. Other people could get drunk, sleep with a man. She spent so much time doing the right thing, looking after her mother, being a conscientious cop. Then she let down her guard just once and look what happened.

She saw the empty vodka bottle in the bin. She knew there wasn’t an off-licence in town, so she grabbed her laptop and searched. The nearest was at Thórshöfn, sixty-five kilometres away. It was a long way, but no one would miss her if she drove there and back. She would drink the whole bottle. Screw them. Screw them all.

Her phone rang. She checked it. Magnus. Screw him, too. She tossed it on to the bed and let it whine.

Then what would she do? After she woke up from her drunken stupor? When she eventually had to return to Reykjavík, to her mother, to her job, to her mortgage?

She was sure that Ólafur would report her. But then what would happen was not clear. They could throw the rulebook at her, or they could give her a break. Inspector Baldur, the head of the Violent Crimes Unit, didn’t like her much, although he respected her commitment to the Icelandic language and they shared a similar distaste for the way English was creeping into every aspect of Icelandic society like a weed. Above him was Thorkell Holm, the chief superintendent in charge of CID, whose decision it would probably be. But above him, the national police commissioner was a big fan of Vigdís. Reykjavík was no longer 100 per cent white and he did not want its police force, especially its CID, to be 100 per cent white either. She felt bad about how she had let him down.

And then there was Magnus. Magnus who himself had started an affair with a murder suspect, Ingileif, who was now his girlfriend. He had got away with it somehow. He at least would understand. But he didn’t have much political clout, except again with the commissioner.

No. Vigdís should not give up yet. She should get a grip — go back to her habitual ways of self-discipline and diligence. If she could prove Martin was innocent, that would help. And although she couldn’t believe the man she had just slept with was guilty of murder, if he was, he should be punished.

But what could she do, banished to her hotel room?

She looked at her laptop and opened it up. What had Martin said the Facebook group was called that had alerted him to the polar bears in Iceland? Animal Blood Watch. That was it.

Vigdís got to work. She found the group. And she found out who had urged Martin and Alex to come to Raufarhöfn. Very interesting.

Her phone rang again.

Magnus.

She hesitated and then picked it up.

‘Hi, Magnús.’

‘Vigdís! What were you doing?’

‘You’ve heard then.’

‘Baldur told me. You were seen snogging a murder suspect. He is sending me out there to relieve you. Is it true?’

‘Yes,’ said Vigdís.

‘But why?’

There was silence. ‘I don’t know,’ said Vigdís. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Are you OK?’

Vigdís took a deep breath. ‘Not really, Magnús.’

‘OK. We’ll talk when I get there. I did find something out about Gudrún, by the way.’

‘Yes?’

Magnus told her how Gudrún was an animal-rights activist and how she had left university a couple of days early to return to Raufarhöfn to look for the mother polar bear.

‘That makes perfect sense,’ said Vigdís. ‘I’ve just been checking the Facebook group. You can see the flurry of messages after the first reports of the polar bear being shot. Everyone was angry, and someone with the nickname “Foxgirl” suggested that volunteers come out to Raufarhöfn and disrupt the search for a second bear. Two members said they would go — Alex Einarsson and Martin Fiedler. Martin said he was flying from Düsseldorf to Iceland.’

‘Is Foxgirl Gudrún?’

‘It’s not absolutely certain, but that would be my guess. Whoever it is, she lives in or near to Raufarhöfn and goes to university in Reykjavík. “Foxgirl” makes sense when you think of the Melrakkaslétta with all its foxes.’

‘It must be her, mustn’t it?’ said Magnus.

‘We can ask her,’ said Vigdís. ‘She won’t know how difficult it is to get Facebook to give us confirmation. Also, it turns out the interpreter we were using to interview Martin Fiedler is also in the group.’

‘Now you’re off the case, I was going to call Ólafur to tell him about Gudrún. But you should do it.’

‘He won’t listen to me.’

‘He may do. And if he doesn’t, that’s his fault. If you can still help solve this thing, that won’t do you any harm.’ There was a pause. ‘Remember how I met Ingileif? It doesn’t have to be the end of the world.’

‘I do,’ said Vigdís. ‘I was there.’

Magnus and Vigdís had gone together to Ingileif’s gallery on Skólavördustígur in Reykjavík to interview her. Even at that stage Vigdís had noticed how struck Magnus was with her.

‘See you later,’ said Magnus. ‘And good luck.’

Vigdís went straight to the police station and found Ólafur. ‘What is it?’ he demanded.

‘I have checked the Facebook group Martin and Alex used. And I have spoken to Magnús about Gudrún Halldórsdóttir.’

‘I told you that you were off the case.’

‘I know. But you will want to hear what I’ve got.’

Ólafur sighed. He was feeling the pressure — he needed something to break his way. He did want to know what Vigdís had got.

‘So tell me.’

Vigdís told him and Ólafur listened this time. Closely.

‘I need to go talk to this girl,’ Ólafur said.

‘Can I come?’ said Vigdís.

Ólafur opened his mouth to say no, but hesitated. ‘All right,’ he said, grabbing his coat. ‘But stay quiet. I’ll do the talking.’