Black Skies

9

Hermann wanted to avoid meeting Sigurdur Óli at work, where he managed a business supplying machinery and other equipment to the building industry. Instead, they agreed to talk at the cafe where they had met the day before with Patrekur. Sigurdur Óli understood the reasons for Hermann’s wariness but had no intention of treating him with kid gloves. If Hermann knew anything about the attack on Lína, he would get it out of him.

Her condition remained unchanged; she was still lying in a coma in intensive care and the doctors were not optimistic. Ebeneser had turned up, however. He had returned home that night, walking straight into the forensics team who were still at work in his house, and had become extremely distressed when he heard what had happened. They had taken him to the hospital where he was still sitting beside his wife. Finnur had gone to take his statement and learned that Ebbi worked as a guide in the highlands and had been out with a small group of French tourists at the Landmannalaugar hot springs. Another guide had taken charge of the party at Hótel Rangá in the evening and Ebbi had driven back to town. Finnur had his alibi checked and received immediate confirmation. Ebbi claimed that he had no idea why anyone would hurt Lína or who her attacker could possibly have been, but thought a burglar the most likely explanation. He was so distraught that the police decided to postpone his interview.

It was eleven fifteen when Hermann entered the cafe and took a seat beside Sigurdur Óli. They had agreed to meet at eleven.

‘Do you think I have nothing better to do than hang around waiting for you in cafes?’ Sigurdur Óli asked irritably, looking pointedly at his watch.

‘There was something I had to finish,’ Hermann said. ‘What do you want?’

‘The woman who’s trying to extort money from you came this close’ — Sigurdur Óli held up his pinched thumb and forefinger — ‘to dying last night. Even if she survives, she may never be more than a vegetable. Someone smashed her skull in.’

‘Was that the incident that was all over this morning’s papers?’

‘Yes.’

‘That was Lína? I just read the news. They didn’t mention any names. It said something about a debt collector.’

‘We have reason to believe it was a debt collector who beat her up.’

‘And?’

‘Are you acquainted with anyone like that?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you.’

‘You think I did this?’

‘I can’t think of anyone with a better motive.’

‘Hang on, this was yesterday evening, the same day I talked to you. You think I attacked her the very day I talked to you about sorting the matter out for us?’

Sigurdur Óli stared at him in silence. Earlier that morning he had taken his summer coat to the dry-cleaner’s; it may have been ruined yesterday evening when he fell into the bushes during the pursuit.

‘You know,’ he said, ‘it’s always better for a man in your situation to answer the question directly instead of trying to beat about the bush and twist people’s words. I couldn’t give a monkey’s what you believe I think or don’t think. I couldn’t care less about you and your wife or your sleazy sex lives. If you don’t want to be banged up right now just answer the question.’

Hermann straightened in his chair.

‘I haven’t laid a finger on her,’ he said. ‘I swear it.’

‘When were you last in contact with her?’

‘She rang me three days ago saying she wouldn’t wait any longer for the money. She threatened to circulate the photos. I begged her for more time. She said she’d give me two more days, but she wouldn’t talk to me again. I was to deliver the money to her house or else the photos would be posted on porn sites all over the world.’

‘So the material was supposed to be published yesterday, the day she was attacked?’

‘We didn’t set anyone on that bitch,’ Hermann said. ‘Anyway, how do you go about finding a debt collector? Do they advertise? I wouldn’t know where to begin.’

‘And you never spoke to Ebbi?’

‘No, only Lína.’

‘Do you know if you’re their only victims?’

‘No, I don’t. Though it seems unlikely, doesn’t it — that it should be just us?’

‘So you were supposed to go round to their house with the money, collect the photos and that would be the end of it?’

‘Yes, it wasn’t very sophisticated, but then they’re not very sophisticated people. They’re sick.’

‘But you weren’t intending to pay up?’

‘You were supposed to straighten it out,’ Hermann said. ‘Did you find any pictures at their place?’

Sigurdur Óli had attempted to conduct an unobtrusive search but the presence of the other officers had made it impossible to do a thorough job. He had found nothing, not even a camera.

‘You were at their place when the pictures were taken?’ he said.

‘Yes. It was about two years ago.’

‘Was that the only time?’

‘No, we went there twice.’

‘Yet they only started blackmailing you now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because your wife’s face is in the media and she has political ambitions?’

‘It’s the only explanation.’

‘Classy,’ Sigurdur Óli said. ‘What classy people.’

Ebeneser was sitting at his wife’s bedside in intensive care when Sigurdur Óli turned up to interview him. Finnur, who was in charge of the investigation, had said he needed to talk to Ebeneser again, but when Sigurdur Óli offered to save him the effort, Finnur had accepted since he had far too much on his plate already. Ebeneser was a lean, vigorous-looking man of medium height, with a slightly weather-beaten face, sporting several days’ worth of beard. He was wearing thick-soled hiking boots as one would expect of a highland guide. He rose when Sigurdur Óli entered the room and greeted him with a dry handshake, avoiding eye contact. Lína was lying in bed, hooked up to all kinds of monitors and drips, her head swathed in bandages. The couple were both around thirty, perhaps a decade younger than Hermann and his wife, and appeared to be reasonably good-looking, though Sigurdur Óli found it hard to gauge with Lína in her current state. Could it have been their youth that had attracted Hermann and his wife?

‘Are you planning to leave town again?’ Sigurdur Óli asked, eyeing the man’s footwear once they were seated in the visitors’ lounge. Given the circumstances he had been prepared to treat Ebeneser with sympathy and understanding, but was not sure if he and his wife really deserved such consideration.

‘What? These? No, not for the moment. I just like wearing boots, even in town.’

‘We’ve received confirmation that you were on your way back from the highlands when your wife was attacked,’ Sigurdur Óli said.

‘I find it bizarre that you should think I did it,’ Ebeneser retorted.

‘Whether something’s bizarre or not has no bearing as far as we’re concerned. Were you and your wife seriously in debt?’

‘No more than most people. And we’re not married. We’re living together.’

‘Any children?’

‘No, none.’

‘Were you in debt to parties who might be prepared to resort to violent methods to recover their money? Like debt collectors, for example? Anyone like that?’

‘No,’ Ebeneser said.

‘So you’re not short of money?’

‘No.’

‘And you haven’t been involved with debt collectors before?’

‘No. I don’t know any debt collectors myself and I don’t know anyone who’s in contact with them. Wasn’t it just an ordinary burglar?’

‘Did he take anything?’

‘I gather he was interrupted by a cop.’

‘I’ve never come across a burglar who began by smashing up the house he was intending to burgle, then hit the owner over the head with a baseball bat,’ Sigurdur Óli said. ‘I suppose such a thing may have happened some time, some place, but I’m not aware of it.’

Ebeneser was silent.

‘Did anyone know you’d be out of town yesterday evening?’

‘Yes, lots of people. But they’re all people I know, who would never do anything like this, if that’s what you mean.’

‘And you don’t have money troubles?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. I should know.’

‘What about your sex life — is that good?’

Ebeneser had been sitting opposite him in the visitor’s lounge, legs crossed, swinging his free foot gently up and down, evincing little interest in Sigurdur Óli’s questions. But at this he stopped, sat up in his chair and leaned forward.

‘Our sex life?’

‘Your sexual relations with other people,’ Sigurdur Óli clarified.

Ebeneser stared at him. ‘What … are you joking?’

‘No.’

‘Sexual relations with other people?’

‘Let me spell it out for you: do you think that the attack on Lína can have had anything to do with the fact that you both have sex with other people?’

Ebeneser was flabbergasted. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he replied.

‘No, of course not,’ said Sigurdur Óli. ‘So you’ve never heard of swingers’ parties either?’

Ebeneser shook his head.

‘Where swinging is another word for wife-swapping.’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re on about,’ said Ebeneser.

‘So you and Lína have never taken part in wife-swapping?’

‘That’s disgusting,’ Ebeneser said. ‘We’ve never done anything like that. How dare you!’

‘I’ll make a deal with you,’ Sigurdur Óli said. ‘You give me the photos that you and Lína took of yourselves having sex with other people and I’ll try to pretend I never heard anything about it.’

Ebeneser did not respond.

‘Other people,’ Sigurdur Óli said, as if struck by a new idea. ‘Who were these other people? I only know of the one couple but of course you’ve been blackmailing people all over town, haven’t you?’

Ebeneser stared at him again.

‘Someone’s had enough of your shitty little games and meant to intimidate you with a debt collector. Is that it, Ebbi?’

Ebeneser decided not to put up with this any longer. He stood up.

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ he said and stormed out of the visitors’ lounge, back down the corridor to Lína’s room.

Sigurdur Óli watched him go. Ebeneser needed time to absorb how much he knew and to consider his offer. Sigurdur Óli smiled grimly to himself. He was a pretty experienced police officer but could not immediately recall having met such a consummate liar before — nor one more adept at getting himself into deep water.