Arnaldur Indridason - Tainted Blood

"He's a monster," Viggo repeated. "Who was she talking about?"

"I had thought it might be you."

"Me?" said Viggo, becoming agitated. "I haven't done a thing to her, not a thing. Never. It's not me. It can't be me."

"The car she took was found on Gardastraeti. Does that tell you anything?"

"She doesn't know anyone there. Are you going to report her missing?"

"I think her parents want to give her time to come back."

"And if she doesn't?"

"Then we'll see." Erlendur hesitated. "I would have thought she'd have contacted you. To tell you everything's all right."

"Wait a minute, are you suggesting it was my fault and she won't talk to me because I did something to her? Jesus, what a bloody horror story. Do you know what it was like coming to work on Monday? All my colleagues were at the party. My boss was at the party! Do you think it's my fault? Fuck it! Everyone thinks it's my fault."

"Women," Erlendur said as he stood up. "They're difficult to quality control."

Erlendur had just arrived at his office when the phone rang. He recognised the voice immediately although he had not heard it for a long time. It was still clear and strong and firm despite its advanced age. Erlendur had known Marion Briem for almost 30 years and it hadn't always been plain sailing.

"I've just come from the chalet", the voice said, "and I didn't hear the news until I reached town just now."

"Are you talking about Holberg?" Erlendur asked.

"Have you looked at the reports on him?"

"I know Sigurdur Oli was checking the computer records but I haven't heard from him. What reports?"

"The question is whether they're actually on file in the computers. Maybe they've been thrown out. Is there any law about when reports become obsolete? Are they destroyed?"

"What are you driving at?"

"Turns out Holberg was no model citizen," Marion Briem said.

"In what way?"

"The chances are that he was a rapist."

"Chances are?"

"He was charged with rape, but never convicted. It was in 1963. You ought to take a look at your reports."

"Who accused him?"

"A woman by the name of Kolbrun. She lived in. ."

"Keflavik?"

"Yes, how did you know that?"

"We found a photograph in Holberg's desk. It was as if it had been hidden there. It was a photograph of the gravestone of a girl called Audur, in a cemetery we still haven't identified. I woke up one of the living dead from the National Statistics Office and found Kolbrun's name on the death certificate. She was the little girl's mother. Audur's mother. She's dead too."

Marion said nothing.

"Marion?" Erlendur said.

"And what does that tell you?" the voice replied. Erlendur thought.

"Well, if Holberg raped the mother he may well be the father of the girl and that's why the photo was in his desk. The girl was only 4 years old when she died, born in 1964."

"Holberg was never convicted," Marion Briem said. "The case was dropped due to insufficient evidence."

"Do you think she made it up?"

"It would be unlikely in those days, but nothing could be proved. Of course it's never easy for women to press charges for that kind of violence. You can't imagine what she would have gone through almost 40 years ago. It's difficult enough for women to come forward these days, but it was much more difficult then. She could hardly have done it for fun. Maybe the photo's some kind of proof of paternity. Why should Holberg have kept it in his desk? The rape took place in I963. You say Kolbrun had her daughter the following year. Four years later the daughter dies. Kolbrun has her buried. Holberg is implicated somehow. Maybe he took the photo himself. Why, I don't know. Maybe that's irrelevant."

"He certainly wouldn't have been at the funeral, but he could have gone to the grave later and taken a photograph. Do you mean something like that?"

"There's another possibility too."

"Yes?"

"Maybe Kolbrun took the photo herself and sent it to Holberg."

Erlendur thought for a moment.

"But why? If he raped her, why send him a photograph of the little girl's grave?"

"Good question."

"Did the death certificate say what Audur died of?" Marion Briem asked "Was it an accident?"

"She died of a brain tumour. Do you think that could be important?"

"Did they perform an autopsy?"

"Definitely. The doctor's name is on the death certificate."

"And the mother?"

"Died suddenly at her home."

"Suicide?"

"Yes."

"You've stopped calling in to see me," Marion Briem said after a short silence.

"Too busy," Erlendur said. "Too damned busy."

Next morning it was still raining and on the road to Keflavik the water collected in deep tyre tracks that the cars tried to avoid. The rain was so torrential Erlendur could hardly see out of the car windows, which were veiled in spray and rattled in the unrelenting south-easterly storm. The wipers couldn't clear the water from the windscreen fast enough and Erlendur gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He could vaguely make out the red rear lights of the car in front and tried to follow them as best he could.

He was travelling alone. Thought this was best after a difficult telephone conversation with Kolbrun's sister earlier that morning. She was listed as next of kin on the death certificate. The sister was not cooperative. She refused to meet him. The papers had printed a photograph of the dead man, along with his name. Erlendur asked whether she'd seen it and was about to ask whether she remembered him when she hung up. He decided to test what she would do if he appeared on her doorstep. He preferred not to have the police bring her in to him.

Erlendur had slept badly that night. He was worried about Eva Lind and feared she would do something stupid. She had a mobile phone, but every time he called a mechanical voice answered saying that the number could not be reached. Erlendur rarely remembered his dreams. It made him uncomfortable when he awoke to snatches of a bad dream passing through his mind before finally vanishing from him completely.

The police had precious little information about Kolbrun. She was born in I934 and brought charges of rape against Holberg on November 23, I963. Before Erlendur set off to Keflavik, Sigurdur Oli had outlined the rape charge to him, including a description of the incident taken from a police file he'd found in the archives — after a tip-off from Marion Briem.

Kolbrun was 30 when she gave birth to her daughter, Audur. Nine months after the rape. According to Kolbrun's witnesses, she'd met Hol-berg at the Cross dancehall between Keflavik and Njardvik. It was a Saturday night. Kolbrun didn't know him and had never seen him before. She was with two girlfriends and Holberg and two other men had been with them at the dance that evening. "When it finished they all went to a party at the house of one of Kolbrun's girlfriends. Quite late into the night Kolbrun had got ready to go home. Holberg offered to accompany her, for safety's sake. She didn't object. Neither of them was under the influence of alcohol. Kolbrun stated that she'd had two single vodka and Cokes at the dance and nothing after she left. Holberg drank nothing that evening. He said, in Kolbrun's hearing, that he was taking penicillin for an ear infection. A doctor's certificate, included with the charge sheet, confirmed this.

Holberg asked if he could phone a taxi to take him to Reykjavik. She hesitated for a moment then told him where the phone was. He went into the sitting room to make this call while she took off her coat in the hallway and then went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She did not hear him finish his telephone conversation, if indeed there was one. She sensed that he was suddenly behind her as she stood at the kitchen sink.