Nightblind (6 page)

‘Tómas. Good to see you, cousin.’

They shook hands.

‘I was expecting to see you. Heard the midday news on the radio,’ he said, his voice rasping and assertive.

‘This is…’ Tómas said, before he was interrupted.

‘Ari Thór Arason. I know,’ Addi said, finishing his sentence for him.

‘Have we met?’ Ari Thór asked, immediately on the defensive. He didn’t recall having encountered this man before, and he was a figure he could hardly have forgotten. He looked closer to seventy than sixty, tall and rangy, with a narrow face, his veins and bones prominent, eyes large and protruding from his face. He was wearing a thick seaman’s jersey, and holding a cigarette that smouldered between his fingers, a long, thin brand that had been fashionable several decades earlier.

‘Don’t think so,’ he drawled in reply. ‘But don’t get upset, my boy, everyone in town knows who you are. How’s Kristín?’ Addi grinned, baring yellow teeth.

‘You’re not going to ask us in?’ Tómas managed to ask, before Ari Thór had a chance to respond to such an over-familiar question. He did his best to stay calm, to stem the anger welling up inside him. How could this criminal dare to ask about Kristín? Was this some kind of subtle threat?

‘In you go.’

The flat was reasonably tidy, apart from the brimming ashtrays on practically every surface. The stench of tobacco was almost
overwhelming. Ari Thór’s was immediately reminded of his late grandmother’s flat, where had been brought up after the deaths of his parents. The old lady had been strongly against both tobacco and alcohol, so there had been no ashtrays or the lingering smell of stale smoke, but something about the place sparked his memory. The living room had presumably been furnished by Addi’s mother, someone of the same generation as Ari Thór’s grandmother. There was no indication that Addi had made any attempt to put his own stamp on the place after his mother had died, living instead in her shadow.

‘You want to sit down?’ he said gruffly, drawing on his cigarette.

‘Thanks but no thanks,’ Tómas said. ‘We’re in a hurry.’

Ari Thór kept quiet, standing next to Tómas, and feeling his hostility growing by the minute, increasing with every second that passed.

‘I reckon you know, or at least you can guess, which police officer was attacked,’ Tómas continued. Herjólfur’s name still had not been released to the media.

‘Of course. You didn’t come here to tell me that.’

Addi sat down in an old wine-red armchair.

‘You know the house, where it took place?’

‘Should I know it?’ Addi asked, an almost playful tone to his voice.

‘The old place up by…’

‘Yeah, yeah. I know,’ Addi interrupted.

‘We suspect that Herjólfur was investigating some narcotics business going on there,’ Tómas said formally. ‘Know anything about it?’

‘You’ve got a nerve, cousin. Asking me if I’m selling dope and shooting bloody coppers.’

‘Come on, Addi,’ Tómas snapped.

‘One damned conviction and you’re a criminal for ever more.’

‘More than one conviction,’ Tómas said.

‘And what the hell am I supposed to say? Give you some bullshit? Drop my mates in it?’

‘Someone tried to murder a police officer,’ Tómas said firmly. ‘I’m not accusing you of having anything to do with it, but if you know anything about this, it’s as well to say so. Trying to protect whoever was behind this isn’t going to help anyone. You can expect this crime to be dealt with rigorously, just so you know.’

Addi puffed his cigarette in silence.

‘I’m just an old guy. You know that, Tómas, and you know I wouldn’t shoot anyone, not even a cop…’ he said, and his voice faded away.

‘Do you know who could have done it?’

‘Who knows? Eh? I’m not responsible for all the local dope heads.’

‘Has the building been used for that kind of activity?’

‘Could have been.’

‘Yes or no?’

‘Yeah, yeah. As far as I know. OK?’

‘What went on there?’

‘Just business. People stash gear there, someone else picks it up. Understand? It was a good place to choose, since you guys can’t be bothered to drive out of town any more. That’s right, isn’t it?’

Tómas left the question hanging unanswered. Ari Thór knew that there was truth behind what the man was telling them, and he seemed convincing.

‘You have anything to do with these people? These guys and their … business?’

‘No, cousin. This…’ He pointed his cigarette towards Tómas. ‘This is the closest I’ve come to any dope since I moved back home.’

‘Was anyone there that night?’

Ari Thór was still taking care to keep quiet.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Addi muttered. ‘But it’s not as if I know everything that goes on around here.’

‘Who else would it be worth speaking to? Someone who’s been involved with the, you know, the practical side of the business recently?’

Addi laughed.

‘Cousin Tómas,’ he said. ‘I don’t have a clue.’

‘Don’t let the old boy upset you,’ Tómas said when they had left Addi and were back in the car. ‘He’s always been like that.’

Ari Thór’s voice was a little shaky when he spoke. ‘No chance of that.’

Addi’s innocent mention of Kristín’s name had infuriated him. If there was one thing Ari Thór was afraid of, it was his own temper, especially if there was even a hint of threat towards his family. He hoped that he had read too much into Addi’s comments, but couldn’t stop himself from fearing the worst.

I’ve just had breakfast, or what they call breakfast.

Rye bread with butter and some fruit, served on the usual plastic trays. I wasn’t even going to bother going to the canteen, but the nurse made me go.

It’ll do you good, she said.

These days there seem to be plenty of things that will do me good.

I let her have her way. Couldn’t be bothered to argue with her. The first morning I got breakfast in bed, but that’s not on offer any longer.

It seems I don’t try hard enough to mix with the others, with the other … well … patients. I’ve never been exactly shy, but I don’t care to get to know them. I don’t want to be part of the group, be one of them. I don’t belong here. The one I’ve talked to the most is the nurse, even though I don’t like her.

I have never been shy, but there has always been a fear, tucked away at the back of my mind. Maybe it’s that fear that’s starting to surface now, fighting its way out. There has always been a timidity in me, for as far back as I can remember. There are, of course, reasons for it, more than one, I’m sure.

Kristín was exhausted. The little boy was finally asleep, his afternoon nap taking place later than usual. Everything was happening at once. After the call-out in the middle of the night, Ari Thór had come home quickly to give her the terrible news. It was such a shock, and so difficult to take in that she found it hard to believe.

Her first reaction was to offer to help.

‘Is there anything I can do? I can go up to the hospital now if the babysitter’s free,’ she said, every inch the doctor ready for an emergency.

‘Thanks, but I think he’ll be sent south to Reykjavík as soon as possible. He may have gone already.’

She wanted to ask him about the victim’s injuries, to try and assess his chances of survival, but couldn’t bring herself to delve into the details of this particular tragedy.

She realised immediately that Ari Thór was the one who should have been on duty, not Herjólfur. But she carefully said nothing, seeing that he was already badly shaken.

The thought that she could have lost him set her conscience nagging at her, and not least in connection with the new doctor who had recently joined the staff at the hospital in Akureyri. He was seven years older than she was, divorced and recently moved back to Iceland from Sweden, where he had studied and worked. He was tall and elegant, extremely clever, as well as patient and thoughtful; in some ways similar to Ari Thór and in other ways his opposite. Ari Thór could sometimes be awkwardly reckless and self-absorbed, sharp-tongued and prone to dark moods. He remained caught up in
the past, having never properly come to terms with the loss of his parents, and for some reason these wounds refused to heal. He was equally caught up in present problems, destined, it seemed, to be stuck in a rut. Not getting the promotion to inspector had been a bitter disappointment and he wasn’t sure whether to stay or leave, so Kristín had taken the decision for them both. She liked Siglufjördur and living there while working at the hospital in Akureyri suited her. It wasn’t far now that the new tunnel was open.

It was such a lovely town, she had to admit, despite her earlier scepticism. She revelled in the long, bright days of summer, the wonderful scent of the sea, the cold but utterly fresh air that filled her with renewed energy every day, even in winter. She actually even liked the rain and the wind, like today; it made her feel alive. To be honest, she probably even preferred the winter months to the brief summer, the warmth of the darkness that engulfed the town – and also the fact that now, with the new tunnel, she could drive into neighbouring Hédinsfjördur, an abandoned fjord, with relative ease. In winter, she could enjoy almost total darkness there, on fine nights looking up to the astonishingly clear, starlit skies and, when she was lucky, the mesmerising northern lights. But Siglufjördur wasn’t where she was going to stay and she had pretty much made up her mind to continue her studies abroad in two or three years, once the boy was a little older.

The question was whether or not Ari Thór would be going with them; and whether or not she
wanted
him to go with them. The other question was whether a long, hard look would find any real future in this relationship. She had pushed all these questions to the back of her mind for a long time now, with the same doubts lurking on the edges of her consciousness, far enough away to be ignored. That is, until this doctor had appeared from Sweden. Kristín had spent a lot of time working with him once her maternity leave had come to an end and she had begun shifts at the hospital on a part-time basis. They had formed an immediate friendship. In fact, it was disturbing just how well they got on together. They seemed to have
interests and opinions that dovetailed neatly. They went to lunch together and took their coffee breaks at the same time and, although neither of them overstepped any marks, she felt comfortable with this man. Strictly speaking, no written or unwritten relationship rules had been broken, nothing had happened she needed to be ashamed of, but she knew she was standing on the edge of a precipice and it wasn’t somewhere she could stay for long.

She liked this guy, the doctor, there was no question about that. But was she in love with him? Hardly. But was she in love with Ari Thór? Or had it just been a deep-seated affection for him that had resulted in the birth of their wonderful boy? And could she do this to her son, break up the family, if it could be avoided?

Ari Thór hadn’t done anything wrong, not exactly. He had become a good father, warm and conscientious. It was clear that he would make every effort to ensure that his son would grow up in a happy environment.

It had clearly never occurred to him that Kristín had thoughts of leaving. It was, however, an option she had been considering at length in the last few weeks, weighing up the pros and cons with cool detachment.

The arrival of the doctor had brought her dilemma to the surface. Of course he was part of the problem, to an extent; maybe she wanted to find out if it was a relationship that could work. She felt that she was in with a chance with this man, and a good chance at that. Or maybe she was making more out of this than was really there?

She was determined not to make any move in that direction, not unless she had ended the relationship with Ari Thór first. If she was going to jump off this particular precipice, then there would be no parachute. Being unfaithful to Ari Thór was not something she could contemplate. It simply wasn’t in her nature to cheat; unlike him.

He had been unfaithful to her with that local tart, Ugla. Just a kiss, he had said, but that was more than enough. She could see the guilt in his eyes when he begged her forgiveness. She knew him too well.

She hardly dared to imagine Ari Thór’s reaction if she left him and immediately started a relationship with another man. Would he be able to control his rage? In all honesty, she wasn’t sure that he could. There was some dark thread running through his character that was best avoided: he was quick to anger and capable of almost pathological jealousy. With time, could she help him overcome this basic fault in his character?

It wasn’t that she felt unsafe around him and the thought that he might do her harm was out of the question. If she was in any danger, then he was there to protect her and would undoubtedly go to any extreme necessary.

But there were those
secrets
of his. After all these years, he had never told her the truth about his father’s disappearance, and he had to know more about that than he had ever admitted. He clearly didn’t trust her completely. She knew that this preyed on his mind, sometimes he would call out to his father in his sleep, in a voice so heart-achingly desperate…

Kristín was still some way from making up her mind and the past weeks had been difficult ones, keeping her awake at night as she tried to put her thoughts and feelings in some kind of order, weighing up the advantages and disadvantages in credit and debit columns, but unable to reach a conclusion.

The assault on Herjólfur had opened her eyes to just how short life could be, and how crucial it was to take the right decisions. If she was going to leave Ari Thór, then she would have to make her move, and soon.

Ari Thór and Tómas were still at the police station, and it was approaching dinnertime. The phone had rung without respite all day, and Tómas handled most of the media calls in his usual clipped, formal manner.

Tómas switched on the police station’s small television set. The evening news bulletin was devoted almost entirely to the shooting in Siglufjördur.

‘You’d best get yourself off home soon,’ Tómas said. ‘I’ll keep watch for a while and we’ll go to the scene in the morning. Our forensic colleagues tell me that they don’t have all that much left to do. Have you been inside that house before?’

Ari Thór shook his head and reached for a slice of pizza. Tómas had gone down to the town hall square to his favourite pizza place and brought back a couple of hot ones.

‘You can’t beat a Siglufjördur pizza,’ he said, tomato sauce streaked across his chin.

Ari Thór felt a twinge of conscience at not having been home to see Kristín since the morning. It wasn’t far, but he hoped she would understand.

‘I’ll take a couple of slices home for Kristín if there’s any left over.’

‘Of course. Help yourself. How’s the little one?’

‘Fine,’ he said before realising that Tómas had been fishing for a more extensive answer. ‘He’s like a tank, crawling everywhere, and he’s doing his best to stand up. He’s not talking, just burbles and laughs. I’m trying to explain to him that Christmas is coming, and I’ve bought far too many presents for him.’

Tómas broke into a smile. ‘I ought to meet the lad while I’m here.’

‘Definitely.’

‘My wife has knitted him a jumper, and hopefully it will fit. We were going to send it before Christmas. A shame that I was in such a hurry to get here I didn’t get a chance to bring it with me.’

‘She knitted him a jumper? That’s too much, Tómas. Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it. Not that I had much to do with it, never having knitted a thing,’ he said with a smile. ‘We need to arrange to have you for dinner when there’s an opportunity. When are you likely to be in the south next?’

‘We don’t have any plans, but Kristín’s parents are moving home from Norway next summer and I expect the three of us will be down to see them often enough.’

‘And how have you and Herjólfur been managing, considering there are only two of you?’

‘It’s working out, but only just, we get some assistance from the station along the coast in Ólafsfjördur,’ Ari Thór replied.

He had missed his talks with Tómas, realising that he probably had only two good friends now, Kristín and Tómas. After moving to Siglufjördur he had more or less lost contact with his old friends in Reykjavík, and he hadn’t really made any in Siglufjördur, except for Tómas. Of course there was Ugla, who still lived in the town, but they hadn’t spoken for years. She had shown him the door when she had found out he already had a girlfriend, and now he wouldn’t dare even look at her, knowing how Kristín would react.

Tómas glanced at a desk on which there was nothing but a computer and a keyboard.

‘Nobody’s taken Hlynur’s place yet, I see,’ he said heavily.

‘No. Not yet.’

Hlynur, along with with Ari Thór and Tómas, had been Siglufjördur’s police force, until he had taken his own life in the middle of a difficult murder investigation. Ari Thór knew that Tómas had never recovered fully from the shock, and still blamed himself to some extent for what had happened. Ari Thór also felt he deserved some of the blame for not having made an effort to connect with his
colleague when there was obviously something troubling him, but then again Ari Thór had been the new boy in town and most of his focus had been on settling in.

Tómas’s mobile phone rang a moment later and Ari Thór could see from his expression that something had happened.

It was a short conversation and as soon as it was over, Tómas hurried over to the computer.

‘Come here, will you, Ari Thór?’ He spoke gruffly, worry etched on his brow.

Ari Thór was in no state to be on duty. The multitude of concerns that were spinning in his mind, his illness, his confusion about the case, meant that any energy he had left was fast running out and fatigue was gaining the upper hand. There was little he could do and he had to keep going.

‘What is it?’ he sighed, wiping his brow and making his way over to his old friend.

‘Look at this,’ Tómas said, his finger pointing at the computer screen. ‘We’ve been sent the list of numbers Herjólfur called before he was assaulted, as well as the numbers from which he was called. Sit down and look them up. You’re quicker than I am.’

Tómas stood up and let Ari Thór sit at the computer. ‘Start with this one. That’s the last number to call Herjólfur’s phone.’

Ari Thór searched without success. ‘It’s an unregistered number.’

‘In that case we’ll ask for more information,’ Tómas said. ‘Other numbers called, that sort of thing.’

‘I’ll send a request,’ Ari Thór said wearily. The rain pounded at the window, hammering a staccato beat that matched his growing headache. The station was hot and a long night beckoned. Ari Thór knew Kristín would not be pleased. Her recent detachment was unsettling, but he hadn’t had the courage to investigate its cause.

He continued to search through the most recent calls. Most were innocuous, a few calls to Herjólfur’s wife, some to Ari Thór’s own number, and one call to a restaurant in Reykjavík.

‘He was going to take his wife off to Reykjavík,’ Ari Thór
explained. ‘He mentioned it because he wanted to be sure I’d be well enough to be back on duty. The trip was supposed to be a surprise for her. She probably doesn’t know about it, Helena. Maybe I should have told her…’ Ari Thór said more to himself than to Tómas. ‘But this one is worth looking into.’

‘What’s that?’

Tómas came over to see for himself.

‘Gunnar Gunnarsson, the mayor.’

‘He called Herjólfur?’ Tómas asked, squinting at the screen.

‘No. Herjólfur called him, two days ago.’

‘There has to be a reasonable explanation,’ Tómas said, cautious as usual.

‘Late in the evening,’ Ari Thór said.

‘What?’

‘He called him at just about ten in the evening. That’s a strange time to call a town official.’

Tómas nodded. ‘I agree. Maybe we should go and knock on his door. Best to do it now rather than waiting until tomorrow, wouldn’t you say?’

Ari Thór shrugged. He still felt a need to prove himself to Tómas.

‘Suits me,’ he said, against his own better judgement. He was so very, very tired. Most of all he wanted to go home, climb into bed, and deal with everything later; the case, Tómas’s demands, Kristín’s recent behaviour.

‘Email about that unregistered number first,’ Tómas decided. ‘Then we’ll go for a drive before I let you go home and get some sleep. You look like you could certainly do with it.’

Ari Thór was uncomfortably warm, but refreshing volleys of raindrops against the misted glass of the station windows offered some potential respite. This was his job, and he had to do it, but his instincts told him that this was not going to be a straightforward visit, and that something dark was simmering at the heart of Siglufjördur. Someone had tried to murder a police officer in cold blood. They were in uncharted territory, nothing like this had ever
happened. There was no way of knowing whether or when the assailant would strike again and Ari Thór was frightened.