Arnaldur Indridason - Outrage

‘The pathologist said the cut was smooth, almost feminine.’

‘I’ve slaughtered a few beasts in my time.’

‘Oh?’

‘There used to be an abattoir here. I often worked there during the autumn season, after the sheep round-up.’

‘When people here heard that Runólfur was dead, they must have put two and two together?’

‘That’s quite possible, but no one ever mentioned it to me. Maybe they felt the score had been settled.’

‘Do you think Runólfur’s father knew what his son had done?’

‘He knew. I’m sure of it.’

‘You told me the other day that you once visited Runólfur in Reykjavík,’ said Elínborg. ‘That must have been before you knew about the rape?’

‘Yes. I ran into him in the middle of town and he invited me over. We met quite by chance. I didn’t stay long. We were from the same village, but I didn’t know him particularly well and … I didn’t like him, really.’

‘Was he renting a place at that time?’

‘He was staying with a friend. Some man named Edvard.’

‘Edvard?’

‘Yes. Edvard.’

‘When was this?

‘Five or six years ago.’

‘Can you remember precisely? How many years ago, exactly?’

Valdimar thought about it. ‘It was six years ago, 1999. I was in Reykjavík buying a second-hand car.’

‘So six years ago Runólfur was living in Edvard’s home?’ asked Elínborg. She recalled Edvard’s neighbour mentioning a lodger.

‘Yes, so he said.’

‘Was it in the west of town?’

‘Not far from the centre, near the dry dock. That’s where Runólfur was working.’

‘Runólfur worked at the dry dock?’

‘Yes. He said he worked there part-time when he was at college.’

‘Did you meet this Edvard at all?’

‘No, Runólfur just told me about him. Made fun of him. That’s why I can recall it so clearly — I remember being struck by how nasty Runólfur was about him. He called him a wimp, but of course Runólfur was …’

Valdimar did not complete the sentence. Elínborg had taken out her mobile phone and at that instant a police car drew up outside. Two uniformed officers got out. Elínborg looked at Valdimar.

He hesitated, looked around him, passed a callused hand over the tractor seat, and glanced at the half-open tool lockers.

‘Will I get long?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ answered Elínborg.

‘I don’t regret what I did,’ said Valdimar. ‘And I never will.’

‘Come on,’ said Elínborg. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

For seven hours Edvard sat in an interview room while his home was searched, without result. Elínborg questioned him repeatedly about the period when Runólfur had lodged with him, and before long Edvard admitted that he had rented a room to Runólfur temporarily while he was flat-hunting. That was around the time of Lilja’s disappearance. Edvard also confirmed that Runólfur had been working at the dry dock, a short walk away, but he claimed to have no idea if Lilja had come to his home and met Runólfur. He maintained that he knew nothing of whether Runólfur might have harmed the girl — and that he himself had certainly not touched her.

‘Did you give Lilja a lift to Reykjavík?’

‘No.’

‘Did you drop her off at the shopping centre?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘What did you and Lilja talk about on the way to town?’

‘I didn’t drive her anywhere.’

‘She was looking for a birthday present for her grandad — did she mention that at all?’

Edvard said nothing.

‘What else did you discuss? Did she talk about visiting you?’

Edvard shook his head.

‘Did you offer her a lift back to Akranes?’

‘No.’

‘Why did you offer girls from the college lifts into Reykjavík? What did you want from them?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘We know you did — at least once.’

‘That’s not true. She’s lying.’

‘Did Runólfur get you to offer Lilja a lift?’

‘No. I never gave her a lift.’

‘Did you ever hear Runólfur talking about Lilja?’

‘No. Never.’

‘Did you talk to him about Lilja?’

‘No.’

‘Did you kill Lilja in your home?’

‘No. She was never there.’

‘Was there anything odd about Runólfur’s behaviour around that time?’

‘No. He was always exactly the same.’

‘Did you suggest to Lilja that she might like to call round after she’d finished her shopping?’

Edvard did not answer.

‘Did she have some reason to visit you?’

Edvard still did not speak.

‘Did she know where you lived?’

‘She could easily have looked me up in the phone book. I don’t know.’

‘Did Runólfur kill Lilja in your home?’

‘No.’

‘Did he dispose of her body at the dry dock?’

‘The dry dock?’

‘Well, that was where he was working.’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re on about.’

‘Did you help him get rid of the body?’

‘No.’

‘Did you suspect that Runólfur was involved in her disappearance? Has it been preying on your mind ever since?’

Edvard hesitated.

‘Did you suspect …?’

‘I don’t know anything about what happened to Lilja. Nothing whatsoever.’

Elínborg went on questioning Edvard for hours but got no more out of him.

She had no hard evidence, nothing to support her theory that Lilja had been killed by Runólfur at Edvard’s house six years before. And, even if she was right, Edvard might have remained ignorant of it. He could be lying, but it would be difficult to prove.

The previous day Elínborg had brought Valdimar to Reykjavík, where he had been remanded in custody. Konrád and Nína were released, and were reunited with the rest of the family in Elínborg’s office at police headquarters. The eldest son had flown home from San Francisco. The reunion was not a joyful one: Nína was still traumatised by having believed that she had killed a man and although she and her father had now been exonerated, she would nonetheless have to confront her demons.

‘There’s someone I think you should meet,’ said Elínborg. ‘Her name’s Unnur.’

‘Who is she?’

‘She knows what you’ve been through. I’m sure she’ll want to meet you, too.’

They shook hands on parting. ‘Just let me know, and I’ll put you in touch with her,’ said Elínborg.

She escorted Edvard off the premises, then went to her car. Instead of driving home she headed for Thingholt, to Runólfur’s flat. She had the keys with her. Before long the place would be handed back to the landlord and new tenants would move in. As she drove, Elínborg’s mind went to Erlendur: that morning she had received a disquieting phone call.

‘Is that Elínborg?’ said a jaded male voice. ‘I was told I should speak to you. It’s about a rental car that’s standing outside the churchyard here.’

‘Where?’

‘Here in Eskifjördur. It’s parked by the churchyard. There’s no one in it.’

‘And what’s that got to do with me?’ asked Elínborg.

‘I ran the number and found out it was a rental vehicle.’

‘Yes, so you said. Are you with the police there?’

‘Yes, sorry — didn’t I say? It was hired to someone who I’m told works with you.’

‘Who?’

‘It’s rented to someone called Erlendur Sveinsson.’

‘Erlendur?’

‘The rental company says he’s with Reykjavík CID.’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘Do you know what he’s doing over here?’

‘No,’ answered Elínborg. ‘He went on leave a fortnight ago. He said he was going to the East Fjords, but that’s all I know.’