Арнальдур Индридасон - The Shadow District

‘Elves and so on. Pupil at Akureyri College he was — bookish type. A loner and a bit of an oddball. They used to tease him, the boys, called him the professor and so on, all pretty harmless. He was a hard worker, though. Couldn’t fault him on that.’

‘And he was interested in the huldufólk ?’

‘Yes, in folk tales and all that. Reckoned he knew the whereabouts of some elf dwellings by the road. Bit peculiar like that, if you know what I mean, but totally harmless.’

‘Know where we can get hold of him?’ asked Flóvent.

‘If I remember right, he was heading south to study at the university,’ said Brandur. He started the engine with a load roar, shoved the truck into reverse, then slammed the driver’s door and leaned out of the open window. ‘But I’ve no idea what became of him.’

Stefán’s neighbour Birgitta gave Konrád a friendly welcome, apparently unsurprised to see him again. He took a seat on her sofa, and she asked how the investigation was going, whether the police were any closer to finding out what had happened to Stefán. He said he couldn’t really answer for the police as he was mainly looking into the case on his own account, given that it touched him personally, though only in a very remote way. She was immediately intrigued, so Konrád gave her a brief account of the Rósamunda affair, leaving out his father’s involvement and saying only that he was acquainted with Rósamunda’s parents. It appeared that the case had never been solved as there was no record of it in the police archives, though it was possible the US military might be sitting on some papers if the matter had been handled by them. Konrád knew Marta was planning to send a request for information to the American authorities.

‘Did you ever hear Stefán talk about the Rósamunda case?’ he asked.

‘No, never. Why should... Were they acquainted?’

‘Do you know what Stefán did during the war?’

‘Not really. Only that he was stationed in Reykjavík.’

‘Apparently he was in the US Military Police,’ said Konrád. ‘Rósamunda’s death was one of the cases he investigated. He never told you?’

Birgitta had been completely unaware of Stefán’s stint in the police. He’d never referred to it; in fact he’d spoken very little about the war years. ‘I had no idea,’ she said. Do the police think... Do you think there might be a connection between the case and the way he died?’

‘Naturally, I can’t talk about the investigation, except to say that the police are exploring all avenues, considering various factors. Including, for example, the way he was found.’

‘In bed?’

‘Lying flat on his back like that, looking almost peaceful.’

‘Wasn’t he smothered?’ asked Birgitta.

‘All the evidence certainly points that way,’ said Konrád. ‘One of the possibilities we’re considering — one of the factors I mentioned — is his state of mind immediately prior to his death. Another is his great age. Then there’s the question of what he was up to shortly before he died. And his views on death. Were you familiar with them, by any chance? Did he ever talk about how he’d like to make his exit?’

‘I’m not with you.’

‘Well, for example, do you know if he wanted to be cremated or buried?’

‘He never spoke about it,’ said Birgitta. ‘At least not to me.’

‘We can’t find a will in his flat. Do you know if he made one?’

‘No, I’ve no idea.’

‘Did you two ever discuss issues like assisted suicide?’

Birgitta didn’t answer straight away. ‘Why do you ask?’ she said at last.

‘Did you?’

‘Do you have any reason to think so?’

‘No, none. But we know you’re not opposed to the idea in principle,’ said Konrád. ‘We heard that you are, or were, in favour of assisted suicide. As a nurse you must have encountered terminally ill patients who were suffering terribly. You wanted them to have the option of a dignified exit.’

‘I support the legalisation of assisted suicide, you’re right about that,’ said Birgitta. ‘Like in the Netherlands and a number of other countries. There’s nothing sinister about it.’

‘And you—’

‘I haven’t helped anyone take their own life,’ said Birgitta, ‘if that’s what you’re insinuating. There’s a big difference.’

‘I’m not suggesting you did.’

‘Then why are you asking me about assisted suicide?’

‘How close were you and Stefán?’

‘Close?’

‘When he died. What was the nature of your relationship? Or when your husband Eyjólfur was alive, for that matter?’

Birgitta got up from her chair. ‘I think you’d better leave.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’ve nothing more to say to you.’

Konrád sat tight. He had been prepared for a reaction like this. ‘Forgive me, I really didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just one of the angles the police are exploring and I wanted you to know.’

‘You can’t just walk in here and accuse me of something like that,’ said Birgitta. ‘Assisted suicide! I didn’t do anything to Stefán. Perish the thought. He wasn’t even ill.’

‘Was he in favour of the idea?’

‘In favour?’

‘Of assisted suicide.’

‘I don’t think he was opposed to it. But it never came up.’

‘You lost your husband—’

‘Why are you dragging him into this?’

‘I—’

‘You’re not implying I killed him too?’

‘No. Honestly, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

He recalled that the first time he met Birgitta she had mentioned that her husband Eyjólfur had been on friendly terms with Stefán, and that after her husband died she and Stefán had seen quite a bit of each other. But she hadn’t gone into any details about the nature of their relationship. They had lived opposite each other for years and there had been quite a bit of coming and going between their flats. One of the police officers who found the body had quoted her as saying that Stefán must be glad to be at peace.

‘Were you and Stefán more than just neighbours?’

Birgitta nodded. ‘He was very private. It wasn’t until after my Eyjólfur died that... I mean, he very rarely talked to us about himself. After I was widowed, I got to know him a bit better. He began coming round more often and somehow we ended up...’ She glanced at Konrád. ‘You’re not under the impression...?’

‘I’m simply trying to get my head round your relationship.’

‘It wasn’t like you think.’

‘What sort of relationship did you have after your husband died?’

‘We were friends.’

‘No more than that?’

‘No.’

‘Sure?’

‘What do you mean? Of course I’m sure. Stefán wasn’t that way inclined.’

‘That way inclined?’

Birgitta glared at him. ‘You asked me about his friends,’ she said after a moment. ‘I expect you saw the photo he kept in the drawer by his bed.’

‘Yes.’

‘That was his friend.’

Konrád pictured the elegant man in the photo. ‘And?’

‘His very dear friend.’

‘You mean Stefán was...?’

‘Yes.’

‘Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that’s his lover in the photo?’

‘Yes. So I hope you understand that there could never have been anything other than friendship between me and Stefán.’

‘What happened to the man? To his friend?’

‘He died of heart failure after they’d known each other a few years. Of course they kept their relationship completely secret, as people did in those days. Shortly after his friend died, Stefán upped sticks and moved to Hveragerdi. From then on he lived alone and kept a low profile, isolating himself from people, making few friends.’