Outrage

24

Formal questioning of Konrád and Nína began early the following morning.

Elínborg was in charge. Nína was brought first into the interview room where the detective was waiting. Her father would be questioned afterwards. The young woman appeared composed when she greeted Elínborg. She had been to the rape-trauma centre for tests and had been offered counselling.

‘Did you manage to sleep?’ asked Elínborg.

‘Yes, a bit. The first time for days,’ answered Nína, who was accompanied by her lawyer, a middle-aged man. ‘How about you? How did you sleep?’ she asked sarcastically. ‘My father didn’t do anything wrong, you know. He just came to help me. He’s innocent.’

‘I hope so,’ replied Elínborg. She did not add that she had indeed slept well, having taken a sleeping pill. She did so very rarely, and only as a last resort since she disliked using any kind of medication. But she had slept badly for several nights in a row and had been struggling to work on minimal rest. She knew that she could not go on like that, so when she lay down in bed she had placed a little tablet under her tongue — and slept blissfully until morning.

As before, Elínborg started by taking Nína through the events leading up to her encounter with Runólfur. Nína’s account was entirely consistent with what she had said previously. She spoke clearly and confidently, as if she was finally prepared to deal with everything that had happened, her present situation, and the court case that lay ahead. She seemed less depressed than the day before, as if the half-remembered nightmare, the denial and the fear had given way at last to a reality that had to be confronted.

‘When your father — Konrád — came to help you, as you said, how did he get into the flat?’ asked Elínborg.

‘I don’t know. I think the door was open, or unlocked. He just appeared.’

‘You didn’t let him in?’

‘No, I didn’t. I don’t think so. I don’t remember. I was caught up in this horrific experience. I’m sure he can tell you how he got in.’

Elínborg nodded. According to Konrád, the door had been ajar when he arrived. ‘Perhaps you’d got out of bed before he arrived, and opened it?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Maybe you intended to run away, and changed your mind when you got to the door?’

‘It’s possible. I remember I found my mobile and rang Dad.’

‘Do you think it was Runólfur who opened the door?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Nína, raising her voice. ‘I swear, I can hardly remember anything that happened. He’d drugged me — with a drug that affects the memory. What do you want me to say? I can’t remember anything!’

‘Do you think you might have managed to ring your father before Runólfur was dead? Perhaps your father defended you by attacking Runólfur?’

‘No.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘I told you: I woke up alone in the flat, and went into the other room, and there was Runólfur lying on the floor. That’s when I rang Dad. Why won’t you believe me? That’s all I remember. I must have attacked Runólfur and …’

‘There’s not much evidence of a struggle in the flat,’ Elínborg pointed out. ‘The murder was neat and tidy, so to speak — except for all the blood, of course. So you would have had to creep up on him and slash his throat quite skilfully. Do you think you’d have been capable of that?’

‘Maybe. If I’d had no alternative, if I’d had to defend myself. If I’d been drugged.’

‘But there was no blood on you, according to your mother.’

‘I don’t remember anything about that. I took a shower when we got home, although that’s not clear in my mind either.’

‘After you got to Runólfur’s place, did you see him drink anything — or take any pills?’

‘I seem to be saying the same thing over and over again. I don’t remember arriving there. I remember a little bit about walking home with him, and my next memory is of coming to in his bed.’

‘Did you give him Rohypnol before he died? So that it would be easier to kill him?’

Nína shook her head in confusion, as if she did not understand the question.

‘Did I give him …?’

‘We know that before he died he’d taken the same drug he used on you. The Rohypnol would have made him incapable of defending himself. So there’s something you’re not telling us. Something you’re still concealing. Maybe you’re covering for your father — or perhaps for someone else? But you’re still hiding behind your parents and playing games with us. I think you’re covering for your father. Am I right?’

‘I didn’t drug that man. I’m not covering for anyone.’

‘When you came out of the bedroom and saw Runólfur’s body you didn’t call the police. Why not?’

‘I told you.’

‘Was it to conceal what your father had done?’

‘No. There’s nothing to conceal. He didn’t do anything.’

‘But …’

‘You can’t think that Dad killed him,’ Nína protested anxiously. ‘Dad could never do a thing like that. Never. You don’t know him, what he’s been through, ever since he was a boy.’

‘You mean the polio?’

Nína nodded. Elínborg remained silent.

‘I shouldn’t have rung him,’ said Nína. ‘If I’d known he would be a suspect, I never would have.’

‘So can you explain to me more clearly why you and your father didn’t call the police?’

‘I was ashamed,’ Nína said. ‘Ashamed of being there. Of having gone there, having no memory of it, and waking up naked in a strange bed. Of being raped. I knew at once what he’d done to me. I felt … I felt humiliated. I didn’t want anyone to know. It was just so disgusting. I saw the condom on the floor, imagined what people might say. What if I’d come on to him? Was it somehow all my fault? Had I brought this on myself, brought it on my family? When I saw him dead on the floor, I think I went mad for a moment. I don’t know that I can describe it any better than that. I was scared — scared of what I had seen, and scared of the shame. I could hardly force myself to tell my own father what I was doing there, alone and naked with a complete stranger. How could I tell the police?’

‘There’s no shame in being raped. It’s the rapist who is shamed,’ said Elínborg.

‘I understand them better now,’ mumbled Nína. ‘God, how well I understand them.’

‘Them?’

‘The victims. I think I appreciate now what they go through. You hear about these rapes but there are so many horrors on the news that you tune them out, including the rapes. Now I know that behind every news story about rape there’s a revolting experience like mine. They’re women like me, women who’ve suffered horrific violence. And those men! What kind of beasts are they? I …’

‘What?’

‘I know I shouldn’t be saying this, and especially not to you. Especially not here, in this place. But I don’t care. When I think of what he did to me, it just makes me so angry. How he treated me. Drugged me and then raped me!’

‘What is it that you’re trying to say?’

‘And the sentences they’re given! It’s an outrage. The legal system doesn’t punish the bastards — it pats them on the back.’ Nína took a deep breath. ‘Sometimes …’ She struggled to suppress her tears. ‘There are times when I’d like to remember cutting his throat.’

About an hour later it was Konrád’s turn. Like his daughter, he was calm to start with, sitting in the interview room with his lawyer. He was tired, remarking that he had not slept at all. His wife had taken on the unenviable task of telling their son in San Francisco about the misfortunes that had overtaken his family. Konrád was worried about his daughter.

‘How is Nína?’ were the first words out of his mouth.

‘She’s not happy, of course,’ said Elínborg. ‘We want to get this over with as quickly as possible.’

‘I don’t understand how you could possibly think I was involved in the man’s death. I know I said that I would rather it had been me and not my daughter that killed him. But any father in my position would say that. I imagine you’d say the same yourself.’

‘This isn’t about me,’ Elínborg replied.

‘I hope you’re not taking what I said as some kind of confession.’

‘Why didn’t you call the police when you saw what had happened at Runólfur’s home?’

‘It was a mistake,’ said Konrád. ‘I know that. We could never have gone on concealing the truth. We realised that almost at once. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but put yourself in our shoes. I felt that Nína had been through enough, and I thought it would be all right so long as you — the police — didn’t know about her. They’d met at a bar that evening. She hadn’t told anyone where she was or who she was with. I did my best to take all her things away but I missed the shawl.’

‘Can we discuss how you got into Runólfur’s flat? I’m not clear about that.’

‘I simply walked in. The door was not quite closed. Nína probably opened the door — she was expecting me. We might have talked about it on the phone as I made my way over — how I was to get in. I’m not quite sure.’

‘She doesn’t remember, either.’

‘Well, the state she was in — and I wasn’t much better myself. I had the impression he’d been burning something, that man. I noticed a smell like that.’

‘Burning?’

‘Or … do you know if he had any paraffin around the place?’

‘Paraffin?’

‘You didn’t find any paraffin there?’

‘No. Nothing like that.’

‘Didn’t anyone notice a smell? A sort of paraffin smell?’

‘We didn’t find any paraffin,’ said Elínborg. ‘There was nothing of that sort in the flat.’

‘Well, there was a smell of paraffin when I got there,’ said Konrád.

‘There was nothing to indicate that he’d been burning anything except for some tea-light candles, that was all. What did you and your daughter do with the knife?’

‘What knife?’

‘The one your daughter used to kill Runólfur.’

‘She didn’t have any knife when I arrived. I gave no thought to it. She must have got rid of it somehow, during all the commotion.’

‘How do you shave? What do you use? An electric shaver? Safety razor? Straight razor?’

‘I use a safety razor.’

‘Do you own a straight razor?’

‘No.’

‘Have you ever owned one?’

Konrád thought about it.

‘We’ve got a warrant to search your home,’ said Elínborg. ‘And your daughter’s.’

‘I’ve never owned a straight razor,’ said Konrád. ‘I don’t even know how to use one. Is that what was used to kill him? A razor?’

‘There’s another thing that puzzles us,’ said Elínborg. ‘Your daughter, Nína, claims to have attacked Runólfur, although she has no memory of doing so. She says it’s the only possible explanation. So far as she knows, the two of them were alone in the flat. Do you think she could subdue a man like Runólfur on her own? Especially if he’d drugged her, and she was incapacitated?’

Konrád considered the question. ‘I’m well aware of the state she was in,’ he said.

‘She might have been capable of it, if she was in fact fully conscious and acted quickly and quietly, and took Runólfur by surprise,’ said Elínborg. ‘But first she would have had to get hold of the weapon. She had to be prepared.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Was she?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Was she prepared, when she went home with Runólfur?’

‘How could she have been prepared? She didn’t know the man. What are you talking about?’

‘I’m talking about premeditated murder,’ said Elínborg. ‘I’m saying your daughter went there with the express intention of killing Runólfur. I want to find out why. What was her motive? Who did she get to be her accomplice?’

‘I have never heard such a load of nonsense,’ said Konrád. ‘Surely you don’t mean that seriously?’

‘Runólfur didn’t just lie down and die,’ said Elínborg. ‘We can also consider the events from a different viewpoint. We haven’t disclosed the fact that Runólfur himself had ingested Rohypnol shortly before he died. And I don’t think he took it of his own accord. Someone must have compelled him. Or slipped it to him, just as he drugged your daughter.’

‘He took the stuff himself?’

‘We found traces in his mouth. He took a considerable quantity. That puts a different light on the story you and your daughter are telling, don’t you think?’

‘What are you getting at?’

‘Someone forced him to swallow the pills.’

‘Not me.’

‘If your daughter’s telling the truth, I can’t see how she would have been able to do it. And there aren’t a lot of other candidates. I think you took revenge for his rape of your daughter. To me it looks like a classic payback killing. Nína managed to phone you and ask for help. You hurried over to Thingholt, and she opened the door for you. Perhaps Runólfur was asleep by then. When you saw what had happened, what he had done to her, you went wild. You gave him a taste of his own medicine, and then you slashed his throat — in front of your daughter.’

‘That’s ridiculous. It wasn’t me!’ Konrád exclaimed.

‘So who was it?’

‘It wasn’t me, and it wasn’t Nína,’ he said. ‘I know she could never hurt anyone. She’s simply not like that — even if he’d drugged her and she wasn’t herself.’

‘You shouldn’t underestimate what people will do in self-defence.’

‘She didn’t do it.’

‘Well, someone made him swallow the pills.’

‘Then it must have been someone else. Some other person there, in the flat with them.’ Konrád leaned forward over the table between Elínborg and him. ‘Nína couldn’t do it. And I didn’t do it, I know that. So there’s only one other possibility. There must have been someone else there with Runólfur. Someone other than my daughter!’