Reykjavik Nights

32

It transpired that the police had seen no reason to interview a childhood friend of Oddný’s called Ingunn. She was a housewife and mother of four, who lived in one of the new terraced houses in Breidholt, where the urban sprawl had spread with alarming speed in recent years. Whichever way you looked, everything was new — streets, buildings, gardens. Many of the sites had yet to be finished and wooden boards, some with mats on them, had been laid in front of entrances in an effort to keep the dirt from being trampled indoors. Only the cars parked outside were old, as many of those building new homes had been forced either to sell their vehicles to pay for the construction or to exchange them for rusty old wrecks that were reluctant to start in the mornings. One of these was puttering out of Ingunn’s street as Erlendur arrived; it stalled, coughed into life again and disappeared round the corner in a cloud of blue smoke.

He had called ahead and Ingunn was waiting for him with freshly made coffee and slices of home-made sponge cake. Her children were out playing on the construction sites and her husband was at work. Erlendur could see photos of them all in the sitting room.

‘So you’re still looking for Oddný,’ she said, pouring coffee into cups. ‘I suppose you’ve left no stone unturned.’

‘That’s right,’ said Erlendur. ‘The case isn’t closed. But the police haven’t interviewed you before, have they?’

‘No, I... they haven’t, and I really don’t know if I can help you much. I’ve never actually spoken to the police before. My husband’s been pushing me to get in touch with you but... there’s been enough gossip about poor Oddný already.’

Erlendur had introduced himself as a police officer who was looking into the incident on his own initiative, making it clear that he had nothing to do with the formal investigation. Ingunn was satisfied and asked no further questions. In fact, she seemed completely devoid of curiosity. She had a quiet manner and spoke so softly that it was hard to hear her. She and Oddný had grown up on the same street and kept in touch all those years. They had attended the same sixth-form college, but unlike Oddný, Ingunn had completed her schooling and taken her final exams. But by then she was in a relationship and pregnant, so instead of going on to the university she had stayed at home and supported her husband during his further education. He was a doctor.

‘I always wanted to study Icelandic,’ she said, with a faint smile.

‘Do you know why Oddný dropped out of college after two years?’ asked Erlendur.

‘I wasn’t surprised,’ said Ingunn. ‘She wasn’t really interested in studying, and she needed the money. She spent all her time at parties. Didn’t revise. So she failed her exams, left college and never regretted it. She was very industrious — worked all the time — but studying just wasn’t for her. She was still living with her parents too and wanted to make her contribution, which was only natural as her family was poor. They’d never had much money.’

‘Then a few years later she got married.’

‘That’s right, to Gústaf.’

‘Were there any other men before him?’

‘Oh, yes, she’d been out with a few people, but nothing serious until Gústaf came on the scene. They quickly moved in together.’

‘But had no children?’

‘No, she was sad about that. She’d always dreamt of having children. But it didn’t happen, unfortunately. She used to talk to me about it sometimes.’

‘Do you know what the problem was?’

‘No, not exactly. She was... he didn’t like her discussing it. I remember she touched on the subject once when we were all out together, and he got incredibly angry. That wasn’t like him, at least as far as we were aware. I suppose it’s not really surprising — it must have been a sensitive issue for him.’

‘She cheated on him once.’

‘Yes, she did.’

‘And was seen talking to an unknown man at Thórskaffi just before she vanished.’

‘Yes, I read about that.’

‘Do you know anything about the man?’

‘No.’

‘Or about any other similar incidents?’

‘You mean other men in her life? No. She didn’t necessarily know the man in Thórskaffi, did she?’

‘No, that’s true,’ said Erlendur. ‘He’s never come forward and we know nothing about him. The artist’s impression didn’t help much. We can’t even be sure he’s connected to the case. When was the last time you saw Oddný?’

‘The week before she disappeared, at the sewing circle she and I set up with some other friends. We’ve been meeting up for about ten years. She was her usual cheerful, lively self. She gave me a lift home and... that was the last time I saw her.’

‘Why did your husband want you to talk to the police?’

‘What?’

‘You mentioned earlier that your husband had been encouraging you to contact us. Then you said there’d been enough gossip already.’

Ingunn frowned as if she did not like discussing her friend’s affairs. So far she had answered tentatively, wary of his questions, careful to avoid being led into saying more than she intended.

‘I don’t know if it’s relevant,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Just a comment she made. About six months before she disappeared. But she never referred to it again and the one time I raised it with her, she changed the subject. But... I don’t know if it’ll make any difference and, like I said, there’s been more than enough gossip about her and Gústaf, and her affair. I had to promise never to tell. She was so ashamed; she couldn’t bear for it to get around. I kept meaning to contact the detectives in charge of the inquiry and my husband has... I just couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone. For her sake, you understand. She was so hurt and angry and crushed by the experience. Angry with him, and with herself for not having done anything about it.’

‘What did she tell you?’

‘I keep trying not to read too much into it. I don’t know if it has any bearing on what happened but...’

‘What?’

‘Gústaf... he was violent. Used to abuse and humiliate her. Mostly it was verbal, but he raised his hand to her at least twice.’

‘Oh?’

‘Perhaps I should have come to you,’ said Ingunn. ‘My husband... I told him and he wanted me to get in contact. It’s been preying on my mind...’

‘You don’t think there’s any chance she took her own life?’

‘That was my first thought. Horrible though that would be, it’s worse to think she might have been murdered.’

‘Her husband claimed he was at a Lions Club meeting when she was at Thórskaffi.’

‘I haven’t been in touch with him at all since it happened,’ Ingunn said. ‘He held a memorial service for her recently, to mark a year since she went missing, but I couldn’t bring myself to go.’

‘He hasn’t altered his statement.’

‘No, of course not, why would he?’

‘But you believe she was frightened of him?’

‘She didn’t say that, but judging from the way she talked about him, the way he treated her, she probably had good reason to be. But I had to promise I wouldn’t tell anyone. She was so afraid the news would get out. She couldn’t bear it.’

‘One more thing. Do you know if she was acquainted with a man called Hannibal?’

‘Hannibal? No, not that I remember. Who’s he?’

‘Just one of the names that cropped up in the course of the investigation. Probably not important. Oddný never mentioned anyone by that name?’

‘No.’

‘Do you think her husband could have been involved in her disappearance?’

‘I really couldn’t say. Oddný confided in me, and I promised never to repeat it. Now I’ve broken my promise. She wanted to leave him, but he wouldn’t let her. He told her so.’

‘Do you think that’s why she had the affair?’

Ingunn nodded.

‘I think so. Oddný told me she should have left him as soon as it started.’