Someone to Watch Over Me

CHAPTER 31 Wednesday, 20 January 2010

The monitor was starting to flicker. It really was time to replace it, though Thóra was not at all keen on the idea, given how expensive everything had become. Ideally the useless hunk of junk would survive for however many months or years it took the króna to recover, but she couldn’t really rely on that happening. She could of course try to buy a used monitor, but she didn’t even know whether that kind of shop existed in Reykjavík. Unless she bought one from Jósteinn… No chance, she thought, shuddering; she would rather pay full price than negotiate a deal with someone who disgusted her. Her tolerance of him had diminished even further after she’d acquainted herself with the details of his crimes.

Thóra switched off the monitor and went to reception for a cup of coffee. She didn’t hurry, since it was only instant. Her eyes were dry after poring over the court documents and other files from Jósteinn’s case for far too long the night before. Eventually she’d stopped reading and gone to spend time with her family, including helping Sóley with an essay in English, which was supposed to be light-hearted and autobiographical. Her daughter was obviously extremely happy that they were currently all living together, because her list of family members and her descriptions of them filled several lines. Thóra also noted with interest that the cat had been named first. Sóley had then added that she had a dad every other weekend, but he now had a new wife, who was younger than her mum. Thóra decided to allow Sóley to write what she wanted, even though she was desperately tempted to convince her that the word ‘uglier’ meant younger in English. The essay continued in the same vein until the requisite two pages were filled. By that time, any interest Thóra might have had in perusing the verdict in Jósteinn’s case had dissolved, and for the remainder of the evening she allowed herself the luxury of not thinking for a single moment about either him or Jakob.

‘Isn’t there any coffee?’ Thóra stood by the kettle, with an empty cup and an equally empty Nescafé jar. ‘What am I supposed to do, drink tea? You could have let one of us know; I could have dropped into the shop this morning or last night.’

‘The coffee didn’t run out yesterday evening. I finished it this morning.’ Bella continued to stare at her monitor and the sound coming from the computer suggested that she was watching a video on YouTube. It was the monitor itself that made Thóra stop for a moment and bite her tongue. It was exactly like her old one, and the same age. Pleased with herself, she walked silently down the office hallway with her cup still in her hand, determined to replace her screen with her secretary’s after Bella had gone home. She was still smiling when she walked past the open door to Bragi’s office.

‘Plenty to do, I see.’ She nodded at the stacks of papers lying on either side of him. He was incredibly thorough about making copies and collecting files and could never be persuaded to throw anything away. Thóra’s suggestions about getting Bella to scan old documents and store them electronically so they wouldn’t need to worry about limited storage space always received the same response: he would consider it – but Thóra never found out what conclusion he’d come to. She never pestered him about it; the overwhelming likelihood that Bella would mess up the scanning made it difficult to insist on the idea.

‘It’s crazy busy in the divorce business. The crash has shaken more than the financial sector.’ He finished writing something before looking up. ‘But how’s your case going? I peeked into your office yesterday and found it empty.’

‘Oh.’ Thóra walked in and took a seat. ‘I was probably at the National Hospital. I had a very useful conversation there with both Jakob and a girl who lived at the residence for a while. I’ve even started a bit on the petition to reopen the case. It’s all coming together, slowly.’

‘How do you think it will go?’

‘Well, hopefully. I only need one last push to be able to demonstrate unequivocally that the evidence wasn’t dealt with correctly. I’m uncovering more and more information that was never taken into account. I really don’t understand why the case was rushed through court so fast. The defence was beyond pitiful – and not just because of the lawyer’s poor performance. But it’s all mounting up and it’s important that I don’t ruin things by putting too much in the report.’ She put her cup down on the desk. ‘I’d actually be much further along if I hadn’t started examining the case of the man who’s funding the bid for the petition. It turns out that the idiot who defended Jakob was also Jósteinn’s lawyer, and I suspect Jósteinn has a score to settle. And there’s more. It transpires that this lawyer is also related to one of the men who was killed in the fire. I’m sure he didn’t let Jakob know about that, much less the judge, although he claims he did. I sent an enquiry to the Supreme Court and they’ve assured me it never came up, either there or in the District Court. Jakob’s mother doesn’t recall it having been discussed with her either, as it should have been with his legal guardian.’

‘What luck.’ Then Bragi reached for Thóra’s cup and peered into it. ‘I was hoping you’d conjured up some coffee.’

Thóra shook her head. ‘Sorry. I’ll pick some up later; I’ve got to stop at the shops on the way home anyway.’ She got up to leave. ‘I was wondering whether you could do me one small favour.’

‘Certainly.’ Bragi spread out his arms to indicate that she should fire away. ‘What is it?’

‘I was wondering whether you know the person who prosecuted Jósteinn’s case; I remember he was about your age.’ She told Bragi his name and he said he knew the man well. ‘I wonder whether you’d be willing to call him and have a chat about it.’

‘That should be fine. About what aspects, specifically?’

‘The files don’t state clearly enough how the police got hold of the photographs that Jósteinn’s conviction seems largely to be based on. As I understand it, the police received an anonymous tip-off about where to find them while Jósteinn was in custody. His apartment had been searched before that but no photos had been found. I think it’s likely that the police or prosecutor knew or suspected who the source was, although nothing was said about it during the trial or the verdict. Jósteinn’s a real loner, which makes it unlikely that he had an accomplice or a friend who knew about them.’

‘So who do you think tipped them off?’

‘I have no idea, but I’m curious about how little attention Ari, Jósteinn’s lawyer, paid to this detail of the case; he could at least have mentioned the doubt that must have existed about whether the photographs were actually Jósteinn’s. Jósteinn isn’t in any of the pictures, although his fingerprints were found on several of them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying he’s not guilty, I’m simply wondering whether this flaw in the defence is the reason Jósteinn’s got it in for his former lawyer – who also ended up as his supervisor, in fact.’ She started towards the door. ‘It’s not a crucial detail; I’d just feel happier knowing what the man’s up to.’

‘No problem. I’ll see whether I can find anything out.’ Bragi pulled a telephone book from one of his desk drawers, but it was stuffed in so tightly that he had huge difficulty getting it out.

‘Have you never thought of using ja.is?’ asked Thóra from the doorway. He shook his head and opened the thick, battered book.

The report was now four pages long and although Thóra could easily have added more information, it would be counterproductive to make it too comprehensive or include too many minor details. That would draw attention away from the main points of the case, which were that the defence lawyer had omitted to mention that he was related to one of the victims, and that a sex crime had been committed at the residence, which the perpetrator had had every reason to hide. It was also important to clearly convey how many people had regularly visited the place, most of them in the middle of the night – the same time of day the fire had been started – and some of them in an intoxicated state. These facts were relevant to the original investigation and therefore should have been taken into consideration; if they had been, they might very well have persuaded the judge to reach a different conclusion concerning who started the fire, or even to send the case back for further investigation. The only thing Thóra needed before submitting the petition was the full name of the person who had raped Lísa.

Thóra wondered whether she should call the police to check whether they’d got the name yet. It would hardly be much of a surprise, given that Thóra had all but handed them a description of the man, along with a photo, on a silver platter. Her visit to Ragna the previous evening had gone very well. After explaining to the girl what she was looking for, she’d sat down at her bedside and gone through the photos on the Facebook page. Matthew watched the girl’s eye movements and interpreted her reactions. She said no to one face after another until Thóra clicked on a photo of Margeir, Friðleifur and a young man who appeared to be absolutely paralytic – like most of the visitors, in fact. Ragna blinked again and again, which made it hard for Matthew to work out whether she meant yes or no, but she appeared to be very affected by the image. She then shut her eyes tightly and Thóra had to ask her three times whether this third man was the person who’d raped her, each time in a more gentle voice. Eventually the girl opened her eyes, stared at the screen and blinked once. Yes. Then she’d closed them and kept them closed until Thóra and Matthew said goodbye. Before they did, Thóra had told her slowly that she was going to go straight to the police station, and promised her that this man would get what was coming to him. It wouldn’t matter if he denied it, since a DNA sample existed that could confirm his guilt regarding Lísa. Ragna would doubtless need to answer some questions from the police, but the burden of her secret abuse would finally be lifted from her shoulders. Before they left the hospital Thóra had let the duty nurse know what had happened and asked her to keep an eye on Ragna in view of the agitated state that she must now be in.

They’d gone straight from the National Hospital to the police station, and for the third time that day Thóra opened her laptop and logged onto the Facebook page. Unfortunately the officer with whom she’d been in contact regarding the case was otherwise engaged. They either had to come back later or speak to his assistant. She chose the latter option. She felt that she had to report her discovery immediately; the crimes that the bastard in the photo had committed had been hushed up for far too long. As a result she had to tell the story from beginning to end, though she got the impression that the man had already heard some of the details. She was slightly relieved by this, since it meant that the case was at least on the police’s agenda, even though Ragna had responded negatively when Thóra asked whether the police had spoken to her. Nevertheless, the officer did his best not to give anything away, having no doubt studied and practised the technique of letting an interviewee speak uninterrupted in the hope that he or she would say more than he intended. Of course in this case, it was a pointless tactic; Thóra had no desire whatsoever to hide anything from the police. It wasn’t until they came to Thóra’s second visit to Ragna that the police officer’s poker face slipped, in the moment when she showed him the photo of the man Ragna had indicated was guilty. Luckily, the photo had a caption: Good times – Margeir, Friðleifur and Bjarki. Bjarki’s appearance gave no indication that he was a pervert; he looked like a perfectly normal young man, albeit a drunk one. Often the worst of human nature can hide behind the mask of ordinariness.

But now it was the police’s job to find out who this Bjarki was; the name was too common for Thóra to be able to locate him herself. She’d checked to see whether he belonged to the Facebook group; he didn’t, but it was possible to see who had uploaded the photo – a woman who was listed under her full name. Although Thóra had this information, she decided to leave it to the police to contact the woman; there was no point Thóra calling her if it meant that she might ruin the investigation, which would now surely shift into top gear.

Bragi appeared in the doorway. ‘I spoke to the prosecutor but I didn’t get much out of him. The police were given the photos during the last stages of the investigation and there was no clue to the sender’s identity on the envelope. It was covered in fingerprints, since it had gone through the postal system, but none of the prints were in the police database. So no one knows who sent the pictures, although it’s clear that it wasn’t Jósteinn, both because he had no reason to strengthen the case against himself and because he was in custody when they were posted. His mother knew nothing about it. Apparently she came across as extremely unsympathetic in court. In fact the prosecutor thought she’d have had no hesitation in sending the photos herself, since she scarcely seemed to care about her son at all – and probably would have admitted as much. When she testified, it left most people feeling distinctly uneasy. Jósteinn is clearly the product of an abnormal upbringing – if you can call complete indifference an upbringing.’

‘But did this guy know anything about Jósteinn’s relationship with his lawyer; whether they had any conflicts or disputes while the case was being prosecuted?’

‘He said it was impossible to tell. Jósteinn showed no reaction in court; he always stared at his lap and said little or nothing. In fact, he said that he noticed that they never appeared to communicate.’

Thóra thanked him, but sat there thinking for some time after he left, announcing that he could no longer bear the lack of caffeine and had to pop out for a coffee. Maybe Jósteinn’s support of Jakob was nothing more than an act of decency. Nonetheless, she couldn’t shake her conviction that all was not as it seemed when it came to his role in this whole affair. She stood up and walked over to the window in the hope that some fresh air would revive her. The traffic below the window passed by slowly. There seemed to have been an accident; two cars had stopped in one lane and the drivers were bent over their bumpers, apparently in search of dents. One of the drivers looked like he was at the end of his tether. The incessant honking of horns reminded Thóra of modern music: first there was some kind of melody, but then it became increasingly discordant until the noise became the continuous rumble of a cacophonous symphony. Thóra almost didn’t hear her phone ring over the noise coming from the street.

‘Hello,’ she said, after reaching across the table in her haste to answer it before it stopped.

‘Hi,’ said Matthew, sounding unusually tense. ‘Have you looked at the news online?’

‘No, not since this morning. What’s up?’

‘They’ve identified the man found in Nauthólsvík. The one with Margeir’s phone.’

Thóra pressed the receiver closer to her ear. ‘And it’s definitely Margeir?’ She inched round the desk to her chair with some difficulty as the short phone cord inhibited her movement.

‘No.’ Matthew hesitated slightly, probably looking for the name on the screen. ‘He was called Bjarki – Bjarki Emil Jónasson.’

‘Bjarki?’ Thóra sat down and logged onto the Internet. ‘Are you kidding?’

‘No. Of course not. What kind of a joke would that be?’

Thóra didn’t reply, but continued to search for the news. Then she said, ‘It must be the same Bjarki that Ragna identified. It can’t be a coincidence.’

‘That’s why I called.’

Thóra thanked him somewhat distractedly as she read the article. There was little more to learn from it; it stated only that the deceased had been identified and along with his name it gave his age, and the information that he had been unmarried and childless.

The phone rang again and Thóra lifted the receiver without taking her eyes off the screen. ‘What?’ She thought it was Matthew, calling to add something.

‘Er… hello, my name is Lárus and I’m calling from Telecom. Is this Thóra Guðmundsdóttir?’

‘I’m sorry, I was expecting someone else. Yes, this is Thóra.’

‘I’m calling about a request to find the IP address for some text messages sent through our network.’

‘Of course, I’d forgotten about that. Did you find it?’ She looked at the screen and focused on the call. Was she really about to learn who had been sending all the messages? She didn’t expect the information to tell her much; the sender had probably used an Internet café, or the library, or somewhere like that .

‘Yes, we found it, and I was wondering whether I could send you the number by e-mail. It’s easier that way.’

‘Absolutely.’ Thóra gave him her address. ‘Then how do I find out where this IP address is located?’

‘I was going to put that in my message, but in fact the computer’s registered in the public sector.’

‘What?’ The first thing that crossed Thóra’s mind was the same thought she’d had initially – that someone in the police department or the prosecutor’s office was behind all this. ‘Can you be a little more specific?’

‘Yes, sorry – the computer is registered with the Ministry of Justice.’