Reykjavik Nights

35

The man had already gone over his story twice with the police but had no objection to repeating it yet again. He spoke calmly and deliberately, with a good memory for detail. Erlendur could see why she had fallen for him. Not only was he pleasant and polite, but he was handsome as well, with a dark complexion, a fine head of black hair, neat hands and a friendly smile. He was dressed in a suit and tie, his hair fell sleek to his shoulders and he had a good set of sideburns. Erlendur had found his name, Ísidór, in the police files. When Erlendur phoned, the man had immediately invited him to his office. He ran a small business importing goods from America and had a selection of samples by his desk: candy, potato chips and other unfamiliar treats.

He asked if there had been any progress in the inquiry and Erlendur said no, that he was looking into it unofficially at the request of a relative. The man asked no further questions but seemed keen to discuss the case.

When they first met, Ísidór didn’t know Oddný was married. He had never seen her before that night at Rödull. They got talking and he bought her a drink. She explained that she had been out with work mates at another bar but had moved on to Rödull by herself. Before long she asked if he was married. He told her he was divorced and didn’t have any children. She said she didn’t have any children either, but he never thought to ask if she was married.

‘She didn’t look like she was,’ Ísidór said, smoothing his tie. ‘At least I didn’t get that impression.’

They had shared a taxi to his place in Breidholt. At the time he was having a small house built on the northern side of the hill and it was still unfinished, with painted concrete floors and a makeshift kitchen. They had slept together and arranged to see each other again.

‘As I explained to the police last year, it came as a nasty surprise when she told me she was married. It was our third date. She said we couldn’t go on seeing each other; she’d have to break it off. Of course I demanded to know why and then it came out. You can imagine how shocked I was. It was totally unexpected.’

‘Did she explain why she hadn’t told you to begin with?’

‘I think she was just using me to get back at him,’ said Ísidór. ‘Did he send you, by any chance?’

‘No, definitely not,’ said Erlendur. ‘Why did she want to get back at him?’

‘Unhappy marriage, I suppose.’

‘Did she discuss it with you at all?’

‘Yes, when she broke up with me. She said she was planning to leave him but couldn’t do it yet. She needed more time. Said it was too soon. She couldn’t just go from one man to the next. I talked to her later, after her husband found out. She told me he’d gone completely mental.’

‘That’s understandable, isn’t it?’

‘Maybe. He threatened her.’

‘Any idea how exactly?’

‘No, but I had the feeling she was afraid of him. Of course I told the police but they saw no reason to take action.’

‘You weren’t happy when she broke up with you,’ pointed out Erlendur.

‘No, I wanted... I believed she was in real danger and—’

The phone rang and he answered it, took down an order, then explained he was in a meeting and hung up.

‘Weren’t you the one who told her husband about the affair?’ asked Erlendur.

‘I wanted to help her,’ said Ísidór. ‘I thought I was acting in her best interest. That’s all.’

‘But hadn’t she asked you to keep the relationship secret?’

‘Not in as many words.’

‘Wouldn’t it have been better to err on the side of caution, though?’

‘Look, naturally I wasn’t happy, and I rang her a few times. Once her husband answered and wanted to know who I was. I told him the truth, that Oddný and I were having an affair.’

‘But she’d ended it by then. She’d stopped seeing you.’

‘I happen to believe it was against her will,’ said Ísidór.

‘You must have known how much trouble it would cause, telling him.’

‘Like I said, I thought I was helping her. She’d told me her marriage was on the rocks, but she didn’t dare do anything about it.’

‘She decided not to leave him.’

‘It was a big disappointment,’ said Ísidór.

‘Were you aware that he used to beat her up?’

Ísidór nodded.

‘That’s why she wanted to leave him. Before our brief affair.’

‘Do you think he could have harmed her?’

‘That’s for the police to find out,’ said Ísidór. ‘They have all this information but say they have no evidence against him. In my opinion they’re dragging their feet.’

‘A witness saw her speaking to an unknown man just before she left Thórskaffi. Any idea who it might have been?’

‘No,’ said Ísidór.

‘It wasn’t you?’

‘No. I was at home that evening. Had an early night. I didn’t hurt her; I tried to help her.’

‘What do you think happened?’

‘Ask her husband.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I was shocked when I heard she’d disappeared. I’m not saying he killed her or anything. It’s my belief the poor woman committed suicide and he was partly responsible. The police were quick to take that view, and I reckon they were right. But I gather there’s not much they can do about it.’

‘Did she seem suicidal?’

‘Well, unsurprisingly she was depressed about her situation, but it never occurred to me she’d go that far. No, I never got that sense. Not when she was with me.’

‘What about you? You weren’t happy when Oddný dumped you.’

‘That was three years before she disappeared,’ said Ísidór. ‘I had time to get over it. Let me point out that I’ve never been a suspect. You can check up on that for yourself.’

‘Are you married now?’

‘No,’ said Ísidór, ‘I’m not. I’ve... actually I’m living with someone, though I don’t quite see what that has to do with it.’

‘Did she give you an alibi? Your girlfriend?’

‘Give me...? She didn’t need to “give” me an alibi. We were together when Oddný went missing. I didn’t do anything to hurt Oddný. Believe me. Not a thing. All I did was bring home to her how shit her life was.’