The Darkness Knows

22

The following day, Marta paid Linda a visit — accompanied by another officer — to question her about why she had gone to see Hjaltalín in hospital. At first Linda wouldn’t admit to having been there, but when pressed she said she’d wanted to keep her visit secret for obvious reasons, which was why she’d been trying to hide. She’d heard that Hjaltalín had been admitted to the oncology ward and wasn’t expected to live, and had simply wanted to grab this last chance to ask him if he’d killed Sigurvin. That was all. She’d thought Hjaltalín would tell the truth on his deathbed. When it turned out he had nothing new to say, she had soon left. She’d been aware there were security cameras everywhere and had done her best to avoid them but clearly hadn’t succeeded.

Linda begged Marta to ensure that news of her visit to the hospital wasn’t leaked to the press.

Afterwards, Marta rang Konrád and gave him a brief report of their encounter.

‘Was that all?’

‘That was all.’

‘Do you believe her?’

‘Hard to say.’

‘Are you having her phone records checked?’

‘Yes. I’ll send you the information as soon as it comes in, which shouldn’t be long. It would be good if you could talk to her as well. You’re our link to the case.’

‘Plus, I was the one who tracked her down, don’t forget.’

‘Yeah, yeah, don’t start getting all up yourself.’

Impatient as ever, Konrád paid his own visit to Linda that evening. She lived in a modern detached house in the suburb of Grafarholt on the eastern edge of the city. The front garden was largely paved over, with a flower bed around the edge. In the middle was a leafless bush, which looked rather melancholy in the autumnal darkness and drizzle. Linda answered the door herself. She didn’t show any surprise at seeing Konrád. Although it was a long time since they had last met, she recognised him at once and was in no doubt about why he was there. It was as if she’d been expecting him and no one else.

‘Is this about my visit to the hospital?’ she asked, before he even had time to say hello.

Konrád nodded.

‘I heard you’d retired.’

‘I have,’ Konrád said, ‘but there are some things you can’t let go of so easily.’

Linda looked at him. ‘No, I suppose not,’ she said. ‘Come in.’

The house was homely and welcoming, with beautiful objects arranged on the surfaces and paintings hung on the walls. From the windows, the city could be glimpsed in the distance, blazing with light through the drizzle, and closer at hand was the illuminated golf course. He wondered if she played golf, given that the course was so conveniently close by, and asked her.

‘No, I don’t,’ she said. ‘My husband does. He’s in Scotland,’ she added, as if to explain his absence. ‘On business.’

She’d got remarried fairly recently to a man who ran a small import company based in Kópavogur. She herself was a pharmacist. Before that she had lived alone for many years with her and Sigurvin’s daughter. The daughter had later studied technology in Denmark before moving back to Iceland, and was now married with two children of her own. Following his disappearance, Sigurvin’s share in his business had been sold for a considerable profit, providing mother and daughter with a tidy sum of money that Linda had invested wisely. Her daughter had been able to use the legacy to pay off her study loan and put down a deposit on a flat, and there had still been enough left over for mother and daughter to live in comfort, with no financial worries.

‘I gather golf’s a popular sport with couples,’ Konrád said, without actually meaning to pry into the state of her marriage.

‘Not in our case,’ Linda replied. ‘I’ve never had the slightest interest myself but Teitur’s crazy about it.’

She offered him coffee or another drink of some kind and he accepted a ginger beer. They sat down in the sitting room, each determined not to make the encounter any more awkward than necessary. Linda was in her fifties, blonde, with pretty features in an oval face, her slightly plump figure dressed in a comfortable at-home outfit of loose trousers and shirt, and no jewellery of any kind.

‘Your friend came to see me earlier today,’ Linda said, sipping her ginger beer, to which she had added a splash of vodka. Konrád had declined, saying he was driving.

‘Marta, yes.’

‘She can’t have been satisfied with the answers she got if she’s sent you along.’

‘As a matter of fact, I’m here on private business,’ Konrád said.

He proceeded to explain about Herdís and the mystery of her brother Villi’s death.

‘Marta mentioned a new witness,’ Linda said. ‘I wasn’t aware. But people have said so many things over the years. There have been so many claims by so-called witnesses.’

‘The difference is that this guy’s story rings true,’ Konrád said.

‘I don’t doubt it.’

‘Also, the police asked for my help after they arrested Hjaltalín and I regard that deal as still valid.’ He smiled.

‘All right, what do you want to know?’

‘Why did you go to see Hjaltalín?’

‘I’ve already told your friend. I went to ask if he had anything he wanted to get off his chest before he died. He didn’t. And that was that. I only stayed with him a few minutes.’

‘You wanted to know if he’d killed Sigurvin?’

‘Isn’t that obvious?’

‘And he denied it, as always.’

‘Yes.’

‘Wasn’t he surprised to see you?’

‘Surprised? Maybe. A bit. I suppose it was... well... it was a bit unexpected.’

‘You went to a lot of trouble to avoid being recognised.’

‘You can hardly be surprised about that, in the circumstances.’

‘Of course not,’ Konrád said. ‘I’m far more surprised by the fact you went to see him at all.’

‘Well, I was just seized by this... this need. I don’t know what it was. I needed to see him before... before...’

‘Did you have any other contact with him before he died? Before visiting him in hospital?’

‘No, none.’

‘You never heard from him?’

‘No. Then one day I learnt that he was dying.’

‘As you’re well aware, and as Marta no doubt reminded you, Hjaltalín didn’t have a confirmed alibi for the evening of Sigurvin’s disappearance. He claimed to have been with a woman whose name he couldn’t reveal because she was married and he wasn’t prepared to expose her. He stuck to that story all these years, right up until he died. I went to see him after Sigurvin was found in the ice and he was still protesting his innocence, still trotting out the same feeble alibi. To tell the truth, I almost began to believe him.’

Linda took another sip of ginger beer.

‘It wasn’t until I saw the CCTV footage from the hospital that it dawned on me,’ Konrád went on. ‘It had never occurred to me before and I can understand why. Because it’s not immediately obvious.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t believe you suddenly felt an overwhelming need to go and talk to him on his deathbed,’ Konrád said. ‘I don’t believe you were looking for answers at all.’

‘Oh?’

‘No, I think it’s more complicated than that.’

Linda took another sip of her drink. Apart from that, she was perfectly composed. But then, Konrád remembered, she’d always had an air of calm self-possession.

‘What are you implying?’ she asked.

‘Hjaltalín received a few calls on his mobile while he was in hospital, and made a few himself. But two of the calls he made went through the hospital telephone system. Maybe his battery had run out of juice or he suspected his phone was being tapped by the police. But he obviously didn’t have the same concerns about the hospital phone. Or perhaps he was so desperate to get in touch with you that he took the risk. One of the calls was to his sister in America. The other was to this house.’

Linda didn’t react.

‘That was the day before you went to see him.’

She remained silent.

‘It was Hjaltalín who got in touch with you, wasn’t it?’ Konrád persisted. ‘It was the first time in thirty years that you’d heard from him. He said he was dying and wanted to see you.’

Linda regarded him impassively.

‘Hjaltalín was a born liar but he wasn’t lying about one thing,’ Konrád said. ‘He was with a married woman that evening after all, and now I find it a bit easier to understand why he never admitted who it was — regardless of what happened.’

He saw that Linda’s eyes had filled with tears. But she didn’t move, just sat very erect in the armchair, trying to give the impression that Konrád’s words hadn’t got to her.

‘You’d already moved out of Sigurvin’s place by the time he went missing. But you weren’t formally divorced, were you? You were still married.’

Linda nodded, her lips a tight line.

‘We thought of you as divorced, so it never occurred to us that you were a married woman. Besides, you were with your sister that evening. I had to look it up. But I couldn’t find any confirmation of that. I don’t think your sister was asked to corroborate your alibi because no one ever suspected you of any wrongdoing. But then the inquiry was pretty chaotic during those first few days.’

Konrád leant forwards.

‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ he said. ‘You were the married woman — the woman whose identity Hjaltalín would never reveal.’