Gunna and Bjössi talked over the case on the way to the hospital, where they sat themselves at Skari’s bedside. The patient glared at them with undisguised loathing.
“What’s this? Two of you?” He slurred through his broken jaw. “What’s going on?”
“Just the usual, Skari. Time for you to tell us what really happened,” Bjössi said lightly.
“Coincidence, you could call it,” Gunna added. “Long Ommi does a runner and not long afterwards you get a beating. I’d say that’s too much of a coincidence.”
Skari glared back at them. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ah, but you do, Skari, you do,” Bjössi said. “You know perfectly well what we’re after. The fictional big Polish bloke who gave you a bit of a hiding hasn’t been found, and he won’t be, because he doesn’t exist. We reckon Ommi did all this. But why?”
“Get lost. Find that Polish bastard,” Skari said in a flat voice.
“No, Skari. I’m sure there wasn’t a Polish bloke,” Bjössi said. “We’ve been through CCTV from every angle we can get hold of and there’s nobody anywhere who looks like your description of this chap. But there is a glimpse of Long Ommi.”
“Haven’t seen Ommi. Not since you put him away.”
“Why did Ommi come all the way out to Keflavík to give you a good hiding? There has to be a reason. And what’s more interesting is why you’re so determined not to identify him. Come on, Skari, what’s the story?”
“We have all the evidence we need to place Ommi a few hundred metres from where you were in Keflavík that day. No doubt about it,” Gunna said. “In a little place like this, it would be odd if you two didn’t run into each other. So why would Ommi want to come and see his old friend Skari? Could it be because he believes you tipped us off to where he was a few years ago?”
“Don’t be stupid.” Skari grimaced as fingers of pain shot through his jaw and up into the side of his head. “Ommi’d never…”
“Ommi’d never what, Skari?” Bjössi probed.
“Ommi wouldn’t—I never knew where he was hiding … wherever it was that you caught him,” he said slowly.
Bjössi stood up and walked over to the window to look outside. Although he pretended to be bored and uninterested, Gunna knew that he was listening to every word. “So where was he hiding?”
“I don’t know!”
“All right. Let’s backtrack.” Gunna said firmly as Skari glared back at her. “You and Ommi. What were you up to ten years ago?”
“Shit. I can’t remember. Having a good time. Getting pissed.”
“Come on, Skari. You know better than that,” Bjössi admonished, without looking round. “You and Ommi were dealing on behalf of someone. When Ommi was put away after killing that lad, you got a bit frightened and decided crime wasn’t for you any more. Something like that?”
“Don’t talk shit.”
“Don’t tell me your Erla was the one who made you see sense.”
“Yeah. That’s it.”
“Ah, isn’t that sweet? Ain’t love grand?” Bjössi sneered.
“Bjartmar Arnarson,” Gunna said suddenly, watching the patient’s face for a reaction that she was inwardly delighted to see. “Does the name mean anything to you, Skari?”
“Who?”
“Ah, now I know you’re bullshitting me. You know perfectly well who Bjartmar Arnarson is. You and Skari were both working for him in some capacity or other at the end of the nineties. Remember Blacklights?”
“Yeah …” Skari answered slowly. “You mean the guy who owned the place?”
“That’s him. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“I was on the door. So?” Skari said, eyes wide with confusion. “So was Ommi. Bjartmar was there as well. So was the lad who had his brains scrambled when your mate Ommi gave him a beating in the car park out the back. Did you maybe have something to do with it as well? Is that what happened?”
“I was out the front. Didn’t see anything,” Skari said quickly. “The coppers took a statement off me then.”
“I know,” Gunna said. “I’ve read your statement and all the other statements. I’m wondering how it all ties up so neatly and why Ommi admitted it quite so quickly and quietly. Not like him, you’ll have to agree.”
“Dunno. You’ll have to ask him,” Skari replied, retreating into his taciturn persona.
“I will,” Gunna said. “Don’t you worry.”
“You’ll have to catch him first.”
“Ah, but I’ll be having a long talk with Ommi this afternoon, and there’s plenty I’ll be asking him about, including Blacklights.”
“You’ve caught him?” Skari yelped, almost sitting up in spite of the pain in his broken ribs.
But Gunna was already on her feet and Bjössi looked at Skari with a grin, tapping the side of his nose.
Outside the hospital Bjössi tapped a filterless Camel from its packet and lit up with relief. He proffered the packet, but Gunna shook her head. She unwrapped a stick of chewing gum and popped it in her cheek.
“Given up, have you? What’s that about? Is this Steini’s influence?” Bjössi asked.
“Hell, no,” Gunna groaned. “This is Laufey Oddbjörg’s doing.”
“How so?” he asked, exhaling a plume of harsh smoke.
“My daughter,” Gunna said with a shake of her head. “One morning she says, ‘Mum, when are you going to stop smoking?’”
“‘Don’t know, hadn’t thought about it,’ I said. “All right,” says Laufey. “‘Maybe I’ll start if you don’t give up.’ So I had to stop and think for a minute.”
“Got a mind of her own, hasn’t she?” Bjössi observed. “I wonder where she gets that from? How old is she now?”
“Fifteen going on twenty, I reckon. Bright as you like, but hard work.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” Bjössi decided. “Give her my kindest regards, won’t you? Is she going to college?”
“So she says. Psychology’s what she has her sights set on at the moment, but it could be something else by next week. A few months ago she wanted to be a vet, but that seems to have dropped off the radar at the moment. How about yours?”
“Same as ever. The lad just wants to take cars apart all day long. That’s all he’s interested in, it seems, apart from girls, obviously.”
“Goes without saying if he’s your son, Bjössi. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep an eye on Skari. I’ll be back to have more words with him once we’ve given Ommi the third degree. Can I haul you in on that?”
“Pleasure, as always,” Bjössi said. “What was the case you were asking him about? What was it Long Ommi did?”
“Don’t you remember? Damn, I was on sick leave just then,” Gunna said, and the old feeling of loss came hurtling back.
“Of course. It was just after Raggi died, wasn’t it? Hard to believe it was that long ago.”
“Almost ten years,” Gunna said bleakly, and shook herself.
“It was a fight, wasn’t it? A young man got a hell of a beating and died of his injuries without regaining consciousness. There were only a few scared witnesses, who wouldn’t say much. Ommi fessed up, nice as pie, if I remember correctly. It was one of old Thorfinnur’s last cases before he retired.”
“Rumour has it that it wasn’t Ommi, though.”
Bjössi looked suddenly surprised. “Really? I just remember the petty crime rate went down quite sharply as soon as he was out of circulation.”
“By all accounts, Ommi was too co-operative: hands up and ‘it’s a fair cop’ sort of thing. I’ve been hearing whispers that he took the rap for someone else in return for being well looked after,” Gunna said grimly. “And I’d love to know who he’s been standing in for.”
“WANT THE GOOD news, chief?” Helgi grinned with unaccustomed joy.