The Darkness Knows

49

Bernhard had a clean record. Apparently he’d never had a run-in with the law. From what Konrád had been able to find out online or from ringing old contacts, the man was also divorced and childless: he had married late, at around forty, but the marriage hadn’t lasted. He had bought the terraced house with his wife and he had held on to it after they split up. The scrapyard had come into his possession some time before he married but, judging from his public tax returns, it wasn’t making much of a profit.

Konrád had been mulling over his options and decided he needed to dig up more information on the man before involving Marta or giving Bernhard another opportunity to show him the door. It didn’t concern him that the man might get wind of the fact that questions were being asked about him in connection with Sigurvin or Vilmar. If he had a guilty conscience, with any luck he would lose his nerve and make a mistake, inadvertently giving himself away.

It occurred to Konrád to go and visit Bernhard’s ex-wife, whose name was Jóhanna, and after a bit of detective work he discovered that she was now living in a council flat in Efra-Breidholt, a downmarket suburb on the eastern edge of the city. He drove up there and parked in front of a large block of flats that was badly in need of maintenance. The blue paint had weathered to grey, streaks of rust ran down the walls from the windows and balcony railings, and the window frames looked battered.

The door to the staircase wasn’t locked, so Konrád walked straight in and climbed up to the first floor where he pressed a bell. Hearing no sound of ringing from inside, he pressed the bell again. Then, since it was obviously broken, he tried knocking. He waited a good while, then knocked again and this time heard a rustling sound on the other side of the door. Someone coughed, then the door opened at last.

An obese, rather seedy-looking woman stood there staring at him. She was in her fifties, her hair stuck up in tufts, and she was regarding him with a look of perplexity, as if she had never expected another visit in her life.

‘Good afternoon,’ Konrád said.

‘Who are you?’ the woman asked bluntly.

‘My name’s Konrád. I’m trying to find out some information about your ex-husband, Bernhard.’

‘Bernhard?’

‘Yes.’

‘Find out what...?’

‘Information.’

‘What... what kind of information? What do you mean?’

Konrád got the impression he’d woken her up. ‘You were married, weren’t you? You and Bernhard?’

‘Who did you say you were?’ Jóhanna asked, her voice slurring a little.

‘I’d like to ask you a couple of questions about your ex-husband, if that’s all right,’ Konrád said. He found himself feeling sorry for this shabby-looking woman and wished he could do something to help her, though he didn’t know what. ‘It’s about an accident that happened several years ago on Lindargata,’ he added. ‘A pedestrian was knocked down.’

‘Eh?’ said the woman. ‘What accident?’

‘A young man died after being hit by a car. I’m working for his sister. Could I maybe talk to you for a minute?’

‘Does Bernhard know you’re here?’

‘Bernhard? No.’

Jóhanna stared at him. ‘Have you met him?’

‘He won’t talk to me,’ Konrád said.

Jóhanna wavered. ‘Come in,’ she said at last, turning and going back inside the flat, leaving the door open for him to follow. Konrád slipped through and closed it behind him.

‘Excuse the mess,’ Jóhanna said.

She picked up a few things in a desultory way, as if that would achieve anything, but it was an empty gesture. It was one of the most chaotic and squalid flats Konrád had ever seen — despite all his years in the police, during which he’d been inside plenty of dumps. The place was littered with clothes and other possessions, cardboard boxes and newspapers, bits of furniture and kitchen utensils, dirty plates, saucepans coated with cooking residues, used glasses and empty wine bottles. A sour fug filled the air. As Konrád took in the chaos, he thought of Bernhard. If slovenliness had been one of the reasons for their divorce, it was hard to see who had been more to blame.

He could hardly bring himself to enter the cluttered room and, besides, he didn’t want to disturb the poor woman any more than necessary, so he paused in the doorway.

‘I never seem to have time to tidy up,’ Jóhanna said, looking helplessly around the room.

‘No,’ Konrád said, groping for something to say. ‘It tends to get left to last.’

‘We’re not friends, you know, Bernhard and me.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know how I put up with him all those years. I told him. Often. But he never listened. Never listened to a word I said. He was depressed. I reckon that must have been it. You couldn’t get a word out of him for days on end, but if you did something he didn’t like, he’d fly into such a violent sulk that he wouldn’t talk to you for days — weeks, even. Who would put up with that kind of behaviour for long? No one. No one would put up with it.’

‘Did he drink?’

‘Yes, that too. Oh, yes. But then he went into rehab and I don’t think he’s touched a drop since.’

‘Did he used to hang out in bars a lot?’

‘No, not much, except to watch the football. He didn’t want to fork out for the sports channels. He was crazy about football; he just didn’t want to pay for it. So... yes, he used to go out to watch matches. It gave him an excuse to drink too. I thought maybe you were from social services. You aren’t, are you?’

‘No, I’m here about the accident I mentioned.’

‘Oh, yes, the accident, of course.’

‘I understand you were with him at the time.’

The woman was staring vacantly at the mounds of rubbish.

‘Would you like me to talk to social services for you?’ Konrád asked after a while. He had the feeling that Jóhanna wasn’t quite with it. ‘Do you need help?’

‘What? Oh, no, I can manage fine. I just need to tidy up a bit.’

‘Were you surprised when Bernhard went into rehab?’

‘Not given the way he used to hit the bottle. But the decision did come a bit out of the blue.’

‘His decision to dry out?’

‘Yes, it was all very sudden.’

‘Bernhard says he doesn’t know anything about an accident,’ Konrád said, ‘and he didn’t get in touch with the police at the time, when they were appealing for witnesses. But he was spotted in the area that night. He claims you were with him.’

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t know anything about an accident?’

‘No.’

‘Has Bernhard lived alone since then? Since your divorce?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you have any contact with him?’

‘No. None. I’ve hardly seen him... since... After all, we’ve got nothing to say to each other. We didn’t have any kids.’

‘Did he ever talk to you about his time in the Scouts?’

‘The Scouts? No. He sometimes went on call-outs but...’

‘Call-outs?’

‘When they rang.’

‘Who?’

‘Those search and rescue people...’

‘Was he in a search and rescue team?’

‘Yes, but then he quit.’

‘What about Sigurvin? Did Bernhard ever mention a man by that name?’

‘Sigurvin?’

‘The name’s been in the news. His body was found recently on Langjökull.’

Jóhanna couldn’t have looked more astonished if Konrád had slapped her across the face.

‘Him...? Did Bernhard know him?’

‘They were in the Scouts together as boys,’ Konrád said. ‘Briefly.’

‘Really? I never knew that.’

‘Bernhard never mentioned it to you?’

‘No. How strange. I never had a clue.’

‘Was Bernhard comfortably off when you were married?’

‘Comfortably off?’

‘Did he have enough money?’

‘He was unbelievably stingy. That was one problem. But no, he didn’t have much at all. I mean, he had that scrapyard but business was so-so. He used to repair cars too. All cash in hand, of course. He did quite well out of that — much better than from selling parts.’

Jóhanna had been gazing unseeingly at a pile of clothes on the floor, but now she raised her eyes to Konrád with a questioning look. ‘Was he involved?’

‘In what?’

‘Sigurvin and all that?’

Konrád shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘Why did you ask me if he was comfortably off? Where was Bernhard supposed to lay his hands on any kind of money?’

‘It’s just a routine question,’ Konrád said to pacify her.

‘Excuse the mess,’ the woman said again after a pause. ‘I need to tidy up in here. It’s just... I never seem to find the time.’

‘Maybe I could come and chat to you another day,’ Konrád said. He didn’t want to linger too long in the woman’s flat. She needed time to process this unexpected visit and then maybe something would come back to her that might be of use to Konrád.

‘Does Bernhard have many friends?’ he asked, preparing to leave.

‘No, he hardly had any friends worth the name. Just a handful of people who came to our wedding, but then we didn’t have a ceremony. We just got married in front of a magistrate. And his family’s very small. The only time he ever got together with anyone was when he went to a school reunion and met up with his old classmates. I had a few friends myself but he wasn’t interested in getting to know them.’

Konrád began backing away in the direction of the door. Jóhanna noticed his eagerness to leave.

‘You don’t want to ask about the girlfriend?’ she said.

‘What girlfriend?’

‘His, of course.’

‘Did Bernhard have an affair?’

‘I always suspected him of it,’ Jóhanna said.

‘Really?’

‘I asked him about it. Loads of times. But he always denied it.’

‘Why did you think he was cheating on you?’

‘A woman knows,’ Jóhanna said. ‘It’s just an instinct.’

‘Did he drop any hints?’

‘No, he never said anything. But there was always something weighing on him that I couldn’t understand. He was always so down, always so mean to me.’

‘You asked him about it?’

‘Yes, I did. He just told me to shut up. So I abandoned the struggle and left him. He was useless. Bloody useless.’

‘You have no idea who he was seeing?’

‘There were always bitches ringing him. He claimed it was business, to do with the scrapyard. But I reckon it all started after that reunion.’

‘Do you know who they were?’

‘No, he didn’t introduce them to me, of course. Maybe you don’t believe me?’

‘Sure I do,’ Konrád said. ‘These things happen.’

‘These things? What do you mean?’

‘People cheat on their partners,’ Konrád said.

‘Yes, it... she was... one time some cow rang his mobile and hung up the moment I answered, but I... but he had a number display, you know, so I typed the number into the computer. I asked him who the bitch was. He just claimed it was about selling spare parts.’

‘Can you remember her name?’

‘Her name?’

‘The woman who rang Bernhard.’

‘No. I used to... I remembered it once... It was... what was she called? Something out of the Bible. I do remember that. A Bible name.’