The Shadow District

48

It wasn’t easy for Konrád to persuade Benjamín to meet him behind the National Theatre. Benjamín flatly refused at first, protesting that he didn’t have time for such nonsense and insisting that Konrád leave him and his family alone. Meeting behind the theatre was an absurd idea. He had no interest in Konrád’s melodramatic attempts to smear his family. What happened in the past belonged in the past. Rósamunda’s murder had been solved by the police seventy years ago; her killer had been caught, so he saw absolutely no reason to waste his time on wild conjectures and rumours.

Konrád countered that the matter concerned not only Rósamunda’s case but some new evidence that had come to light regarding Thorson’s recent demise. He reiterated that he would wait for Benjamín behind the theatre. There were a few details he wanted to run by him. If Benjamín didn’t show up, it would make no difference; the matter would progress to the next level, though Konrád’s part in it was finished.

‘Have you notified the police?’ asked Benjamín, after a weighty pause.

‘I’ve shared some of my findings,’ said Konrád, ‘but I’ve yet to give them my final report.’

At this, Benjamín retorted that he wanted nothing more to do with him and hung up. Konrád put his phone away. He sat in his car, peering into the doorway where Rósamunda had been found alone, discarded, back in the days when the world had been at war and the theatre had been an army depot. He was parked on Lindargata, a stone’s throw from Skuggasund. The streets were quiet. A black cat slunk across the road and darted into a nearby garden. A pair of lovers walked hand in hand along the pavement and disappeared in the direction of Arnarhóll.

Konrád got out of his car, walked over to the theatre and gazed up its obsidian-dashed walls, studying the decorative features designed to resemble pillars of columnar basalt, with their allusions to the country’s geology and centuries-old folklore. Within these thick, dark walls human dramas were staged for public entertainment; sorrow and joy were doled out in equal measure, just as they were in life itself. The difference being that when the curtain fell the performance was over and the audiences could go home. Whereas in the real world the drama never ended.

Three quarters of an hour later, Konrád decided to call it a day and head home, having given up all hope that Benjamín would put in an appearance. He opened the car door and was about to ease himself into the driver’s seat when he noticed a figure standing motionless on the corner of Skuggasund, head turned in his direction.

‘Benjamín?’ Konrád called.

The man crossed the road towards him and Konrád saw that it was indeed Benjamín. So Konrád had at least succeeded in whetting his curiosity.

‘Why did you ask me to come down here?’ asked Benjamín. ‘What’s all this in aid of?’

‘Thank you for coming.’

‘You didn’t exactly give me much choice.’

‘Do you find yourself drawn here at times? Because of what happened?’

‘I sometimes go to the theatre, if that’s what you’re asking. Apart from that I have no reason to come here.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘I can’t imagine why I should. I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate. What happened here had absolutely nothing to do with me or my family.’

‘Yet you came anyway.’

Benjamín didn’t reply to this.

The theatre was illuminated by small floodlights that threw strange shapes on the walls as in a shadow play.

‘I grew up around here,’ said Konrád conversationally. ‘In these streets. Among these buildings. It was here that I first heard about Rósamunda. About her being found in that doorway over there. The incident affected me directly, so maybe that’s why I can’t let it go. You see, a seance was held at my house for Rósamunda’s parents. Disinterring bodies was in fashion at the time and phoney mediums saw a chance to get in on the act, though that’s another story. I don’t know how or why, but this particular medium told my father that alongside Rósamunda he’d sensed another girl, whose spirit could find no rest. Then, the other day, I learnt about the existence of a second girl, called Hrund, from an old neighbour of mine from the Shadow District. If I believed in seances, which I don’t, I’d have thought the girl the medium mentioned must have been this Hrund.’

‘You said you had new evidence,’ said Benjamín impatiently. ‘Is that it? Is that all? A seance? Paranormal claptrap?’

Konrád smiled. ‘You told me you hadn’t met Thorson at the nursing home. I believe he went there after discovering that your father had been in the north when Hrund went missing. The news struck him as significant; he must have regretted that he didn’t make that discovery at the time. That’s why he urgently wanted to go and see your father and try to establish the truth.’

‘You said something new had come to light. What’s new about any of this? Don’t tell me you dragged me all the way down here just for that?’

‘Did you visit Thorson after he went to see your father?’

‘No.’

‘Did he tell you he was going to have the case reopened? Alert the press? Bring it to the attention of the public?’

‘I never spoke to the man,’ said Benjamín.

‘What if I tell you that we have CCTV recordings from two locations close to Thorson’s home, both of which show you in the area at the time of his death?’

‘CCTV? What are you talking about?’ asked Benjamín after a moment’s silence.

‘You hurried away across the school playground after your visit to Thorson,’ said Konrád. ‘And you passed the entrance to the bank on your way to his place, though naturally you weren’t in such a hurry at that stage. The timing fits. You must have gone to see him at lunchtime. Somehow you managed to trick him. To allay his suspicions. Perhaps you pretended to leave. Left the door on the latch and crept back in after he’d gone for a rest. Somehow, I don’t know exactly how, you managed to catch him unawares —’

‘This is absolute bullshit,’ protested Benjamín.

‘You were careful to park some distance from his building. Had you already decided what you were going to do before you knocked on his door?’

‘That’s it,’ snapped Benjamín. ‘I have nothing more to say to you.’

‘Your grandfather made a favourite of Hólmbert and left the family business to him, over all his other children. Did he know about his son? Did he know what kind of monster he was?’

‘My father isn’t a monster,’ objected Benjamín. ‘He’s a desperately ill man who has a right to die in peace.’

‘Unlike Thorson, you mean?’

Benjamín stared wildly at him.

‘Are you aware of what your father did?’ said Konrád. ‘Do you know his story? You must do. Or you’d never have gone round to see Thorson in the first place.’

‘This is a waste of time,’ said Benjamín and, spinning on his heel, stormed off towards Skuggasund. Konrád remained where he was, watching him go. He had been toying with a theory that he wanted to try out on Benjamín. He didn’t know if it was true, but he wanted to test it on the one man who might be able to confirm it.

‘I don’t believe it was necessarily your father who was the monster,’ he called after Benjamín.

The other man didn’t break his stride.

‘Did you hear me? I don’t believe your father was the monster.’

He saw Benjamín slow down and finally come to a halt on the far side of Lindargata. He stood motionless for a while, hands thrust into his coat pockets, head a little bowed, as if he were deep in thought. Konrád studied his figure from behind and tried to imagine the struggle that must be going on inside him. Finally Benjamín’s shoulders sagged in defeat and slowly, reluctantly, he turned.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I believe your father may have been an innocent pawn in all this,’ said Konrád.

‘What... why... what makes you think that?’

‘He’s not the only possible suspect,’ said Konrád. ‘He may have been an accessory to the crime since he knew what had happened, but I’m not convinced he was the one who dumped Rósamunda here.’

Benjamín retraced his steps towards him.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Family secrets. About your father. And your grandfather. The police didn’t know they’d been travelling together up north when Hrund vanished. That information was never revealed. Thorson only found out about it recently. Nor did it ever come out that Rósamunda was frightened of your house. Had Thorson known that at the time, the case would have turned out very differently. I’m guessing he urgently wanted to find out the truth and bring it to the attention of the police before it was too late for him. That’s why he went to see your father. And that’s why you went to see Thorson.’

‘You can’t... you’ve got no... no...’

‘Oh, I’ve got enough,’ said Konrád. ‘Enough to implicate you in Thorson’s murder and enough to reopen the old inquiry into Rósamunda’s death.’

‘You can’t...’

‘Of course I can. It’s over, and you know it. What you did may not have come naturally to you, but you did it all the same, and you need to confess. For your own sake.’

‘I... we...’

Benjamín gazed imploringly at Konrád, as if begging for his understanding. Konrád saw that he was no longer angry. His defiance was waning, giving way beneath the crushing weight of his guilt. He was overwhelmed by the repercussions of what he had done — the fallout from the act he had tried to justify and bury so deep in his consciousness that it seemed almost to belong to someone else.

‘Tell me what happened,’ said Konrád. ‘You didn’t have to shoulder this burden. You did it out of a sense of loyalty to your family. I can understand that. I can understand what motivated you, but you went too far. You simply went too far.’

‘But the old man was going to expose the whole thing.’

‘I know.’

‘I couldn’t allow it. Just couldn’t. I couldn’t... perhaps if it had only been my grandfather... but my father was... my father was no better... I caught the old man in my father’s room and threw him out... He started going on about Rósamunda and claiming that Dad had... I didn’t know what to do...’

Benjamín was incapable of continuing. For a long time he just stood there, eyes lowered, until finally he drew an envelope from his pocket and held it out to Konrád. ‘I found this in his flat and didn’t dare leave it behind.’

Konrád took the letter. It was addressed to Thorson. Reading it, he saw that it was from Thorson’s old colleague Flóvent. It included the information that Hólmbert had been the police’s main informant in the case against Jónatan.

‘I didn’t dare leave it behind,’ repeated Benjamín. ‘After I’d... I’d... what I’d done...’