Black Skies (23 page)

It was over, finished.

He took another swig from the bottle, almost draining it. He would have to get more.

He wanted to talk to the policeman again, to unburden himself. Not to run away. This time he would try not to run away.

36

THERE WAS NO
answer from Ebeneser when Sigurdur Óli rang the bell, then rapped on his door. He tried calling his name, to no avail, though Ebeneser’s jeep was parked in front of the house and Sigurdur Óli felt instinctively that he was at home. Next he tried the windows, peering first into the kitchen, which needed tidying, then going round the back of the house to the sitting-room window and squinting inside. Only after straining his eyes could he make out a man’s leg, then a head under a blanket. He banged on the windowpane till it rattled and saw Ebeneser stir, only to turn onto his side. The coffee table was littered with bottles and beer cans: Ebbi had been drowning his sorrows.

Sigurdur Óli banged on the glass again and shouted at Ebeneser, who regained consciousness by slow degrees. He struggled to work out where the noise was coming from but eventually he caught sight of the obnoxious policeman outside the window and sat up on the sofa. Sigurdur Óli went round to wait at the door of the house. Nothing happened. He lost patience, assuming that Ebeneser must have fallen asleep again, and started ringing the bell and thumping on the door.

After a considerable delay Ebeneser appeared, looking extremely rough.

‘What’s all this noise in aid of?’ he asked huskily.

‘Do you mind if I come in for a minute?’ said Sigurdur Óli. ‘It won’t take long.’

Ebeneser screwed up his eyes against the sunlight which was still bright, though it was getting late. He glanced at his watch, then back at Sigurdur Óli before inviting him in. Sigurdur Óli followed him into the sitting room where they both sat down.

‘Just look at this mess,’ Ebeneser remarked. ‘I haven’t …’ He searched for something to say that would justify the disorder and his own dishevelled state, but finding nothing satisfactory, he gave up the attempt. ‘I saw on the news that you’ve caught him,’ he said instead.

‘Yes, we’ve arrested the assailant,’ said Sigurdur Óli. ‘He gave us a motive but we can’t be certain what’s true and what’s not at this stage. That’s why I’m after additional information.’

‘What motive?’

‘The motive for his attack on Lína,’ Sigurdur Óli explained.

‘Oh. Who is he?’ Ebeneser was still half asleep.

‘His name’s Thórarinn. We know it was him who attacked her.’

‘She didn’t know anyone called Thórarinn,’ said Ebbi, picking up a can and giving it a hopeful shake. It was empty.

‘No, they didn’t know each other.’

Sigurdur Óli did not want to disclose too much about the investigation at this stage, so he gave him a brief summary of the latest developments, describing the circumstances in which Toggi had been located and stressing that, now that questioning was under way, it would be a good time to go over a few details. Ebeneser did not appear to be listening.

‘Perhaps you need more time to wake up,’ prompted Sigurdur Óli.

‘No,’ Ebbi replied. ‘It’s all right.’

‘It won’t take a moment,’ said Sigurdur Óli, hoping this was not too wide of the mark.

Ebeneser looked tired and haggard; his air of heavy numbness went beyond a simple hangover. It occurred to Sigurdur Óli that he might have been mistaken; that Lína’s death might in fact have had a much more serious impact on Ebbi than he had imagined, so he resolved to be polite and tactful, though neither was his forte. And it did not help that he had taken a dislike to the man, being unable to forget what Patrekur had said about Ebbi and Lína’s demented threats of exposure in the gutter press and on the Internet.

‘So what was his motive?’ asked Ebeneser. ‘The man you’re holding, I mean.’

‘A drugs debt,’ answered Sigurdur Óli. ‘I’ve been informed by other sources that you do drugs – that you and Lína were regular users – so, in our view, a drugs debt doesn’t seem implausible.’

Ebeneser eyed Sigurdur Óli.

‘We didn’t owe anyone,’ he said at last.

‘Thórarinn both deals and collects debts, though he’s managed to avoid any trouble with the law. He’s careful to keep a low profile and works as a van driver. What motive could a guy like that have for attacking Lína unless you owed him money? You tell me.’

Ebeneser sat in silence, mulling over the question.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I … Lína and I were recreational users, if I’m being honest, but we both worked hard and had the money for it. I don’t know this Thórarinn at all and I don’t believe Lína did either. I couldn’t say why he attacked her.’

‘All right,’ said Sigurdur Óli. ‘Say it’s not drugs, say it’s something else. What could it be? What else were you and Lína up to apart from taking drugs and blackmailing people?’

Ebeneser did not answer.

‘It’s obvious that you got on the wrong side of somebody. Who could it have been?’

Still nothing.

‘What are you scared of? Or should I say who are you scared of? Were you trying to blackmail someone else?’

‘Those pictures,’ said Ebeneser, after long reflection. ‘We hadn’t done anything like that before. Lína wanted to try it, to see what would happen. If it worked, we’d make a bit of money; if it didn’t, there’d be no harm done. I’m not trying to shift the blame on to her but the fact is that it was her idea and she was much more gung-ho than me. In the end, though, we didn’t make any use of the photos until the other day, when Lína saw her on TV.’

‘Hermann’s wife?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you sent them the photo?’ prompted Sigurdur Óli. This was the first time Ebeneser had admitted their involvement in blackmail.

‘Yes. Lína said she was going to be a big deal in politics, so she wanted to try it – just for a laugh.’

‘For a laugh? You’ve ruined the lives of two families! Lína got killed!’

Sigurdur Óli had spoken harshly, in anger, and realised too late that it was not his place to lose his temper. Finnur had warned him that there was no way he could remain detached.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said more gently. ‘But aren’t you just trying to pass the buck?’

‘Not at all,’ replied Ebeneser. ‘Lína was always coming up with wild ideas.’

‘What kind of ideas? Blackmail?’

‘No, just all kinds of insane ideas. But she never followed them through, except this one time.’

‘You’d know, would you?’

‘Yes, I’d know.’

‘You didn’t mind her sleeping with other men?’

‘It’s the way we wanted it,’ said Ebeneser. ‘She wasn’t bothered if I slept with other women. That’s just the way it was.’

‘And the wife-swapping?’

‘We’ve been doing that since we were at college. That’s when it started – when we got together. Somehow we just carried on.’

‘Did she tell you about the men she slept with?’

‘Sometimes, yes. Usually, I think.’

‘Did she sleep with anyone at work?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘Did you go with her on those corporate trips to the highlands?’

‘Usually. Lína persuaded her company to hire me to organise them. They knew I was a guide and arranged that sort of excursion, so when Lína said I could take care of the whole thing for them, they jumped at the chance. They were very satisfied with the results – the tours were a big success.’

‘Did you know the people who went?’

‘No, never.’

‘Were they bankers? Engineers? Foreign investors?’

‘Yes, that sort of type. Quite a few foreigners.’

‘I gather there was an accident,’ Sigurdur Óli said. ‘Someone went missing and wasn’t found for months. Do you recall anything about that?’

‘Lína mentioned it – I don’t remember exactly what she said. But it didn’t happen on one of my trips.’

‘Did she know the people involved?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘So she didn’t sleep with them?’

Ebeneser did not answer, offended by the tenor of the question. In Sigurdur Óli’s opinion it was a perfectly valid point: Lína had
had
no qualms about jumping into bed with Patrekur, and she and Ebbi did not exactly have a normal marriage. At least not his idea of a normal marriage.

‘I want the photos,’ he said.

‘What photos?’

‘Of you two with Hermann and his wife. Do you have them here?’

Ebeneser considered this, then got up and went into the kitchen, off which a small utility room opened. Sigurdur Óli sat and waited. After a short interval Ebeneser returned with an envelope which he handed over.

‘Is that all of them?’ asked Sigurdur Óli.

‘Yes.’

‘You haven’t got them on your computer?’

‘No. We printed these four out in order to send one to them, to show them we meant business. We were never going to circulate them. It was just a joke.’

Ebeneser seemed to have run out of explanations. His discomfort was obvious. He glanced round the room.

‘God, it’s such a bloody mess in here,’ he said with a sigh.

‘Are you still going to deny that you’re broke?’ asked Sigurdur Óli.

Ebeneser shook his head, his face a picture of defeat. Sigurdur Óli thought he was going to burst into tears.

‘We’re up shit creek,’ he confessed. ‘This house, the car. Everything’s on a hundred per cent loan; we’re mortgaged to the hilt. We owe money everywhere. For the drugs too.’

‘Who supplies your drugs?’

‘I’d rather not say.’

‘You may have to.’

‘Well, I’m not going to.’

‘Has he been threatening you?’

‘We’ve got several dealers who supply us but none of them has
threatened
us. That’s bullshit. And I don’t know anyone called Thórarinn. I’ve never bought from him. I don’t know what he means by talking about a debt. We don’t owe him anything.’

‘He’s known as Toggi.’

‘Never heard of him.’

‘No idea why he might have attacked Lína?’

‘No, none.’

‘You must excuse these questions,’ said Sigurdur Óli, ‘but somehow we have to get to the bottom of this. Do you know if Lína ever slept with anyone for money?’

The question had no effect on Ebeneser. He had taken offence before when asked about the couple’s sex lives but now he was utterly indifferent. Sigurdur Óli wondered what sort of relationship they had had, what it was based on.

‘If she did, she never told me. That’s all I can say.’

‘Would you have minded?’

‘Lína was a very unusual woman,’ replied Ebeneser.

‘Who might it have been, if she had done? Someone from her office?’

Ebeneser shrugged. ‘Actually, she did mention one thing, in connection with the business of that bloke – the one who’d been on a trip with us.’

‘You mean the banker? The one who went missing?’

Ebeneser picked up another beer can, shook it and heard the sloshing of liquid inside. He drained it, then crushed the can in his hand. It crackled loudly.

‘Apparently they were operating some kind of moneymaking scheme.’

‘Scheme?’

‘Those blokes were on the make,’ Ebeneser said. ‘The ones on the trip with him. Lína said something about it.’

‘When?’

‘Just the other day.’

‘What did she say?’

‘You know, that they had an incredible nerve to attempt something like that.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know. A banking deal. Lína didn’t get it completely but it was some kind of scheme and she thought they were unbelievable.’

‘In what way?’

‘Just how cool they were. That was the gist of it. What an incredible nerve they had.’

37

SIGURDUR ÓLI DID
not open the envelope. Unsure what to do with it when he got back to Hverfisgata, he put it away in a drawer. For all he knew, Ebeneser might have been lying when he claimed not to have any copies. Anyway, in view of the way it had developed Sigurdur Óli no longer felt that the pictures were of any relevance to the case. Ebbi had done his best to play down the matter, to give the impression that the blackmail was just a game of bluff which Lína had indulged in on the off chance that it might pay. If not, they would have abandoned the attempt, or so Ebbi would have him believe.

He was preoccupied with these thoughts when the phone on his desk began to ring.

‘Yup?’ he answered.

‘I didn’t …’

‘Hello?’

There was a rustling, followed by a bump at the other end of the line.

‘What?’ said Sigurdur Óli. ‘Who is this?’

There was no answer. ‘Andrés?’ Sigurdur Óli had thought he recognised the voice.

‘I said … didn’t …’ The voice was slurred and thick; the words almost incomprehensible. ‘I didn’t tell you …’

He did not finish the sentence. Sigurdur Óli could hear him breathing.

‘Andrés? Is that you? Tell me what?’

‘… know … know all about … about the old bastard …’

‘What do you mean? What are you trying to say?’

‘Was it you? That I talked to in … in the graveyard?’

‘Yes. Why did you run away? In fact, where are you? Can I come and get you?’

‘Where am I? Who cares? Who gives a toss? No one. No one gave a toss. And now … got him … got the bastard …’

‘Who?’ asked Sigurdur Óli. ‘Got who?’

Sigurdur Óli waited. There was just static for a long time, then Andrés carried on speaking abruptly, as if he had pulled himself together.

‘… and … got him! I was going to tell you when we met. I was going to tell you that I’ve got him. And he won’t get away. You needn’t worry about him getting away. I made … made a mask … and he didn’t like that at all … wasn’t pleased to see me at all. He wasn’t pleased to see me again after all these years, I can tell you. He wasn’t pleased to see little Andy. Oh no. No, he wasn’t.’

‘Where are you, Andrés?’ asked Sigurdur Óli firmly, taking note of the number that flashed up on-screen as he did so and typing it into the online telephone directory. Andrés’s name and address appeared. ‘I can help you,’ said Sigurdur Óli. ‘Let me help you, Andrés. Are you at home?’

‘But I could take him,’ Andrés continued, oblivious. ‘I … I thought it might be difficult but he’s just an old man. A feeble old bastard …’

‘Are you talking about Rögnvaldur? Is it Rögnvaldur you’ve got? Andrés!’