‘People aren’t robots. Those are perfectly natural reactions to a crisis like this.’ Thóra was happy to finally find someone apart from his mother who actually believed in Jakob’s innocence. Others had generally been willing to consider the possibility, but Thóra could see in their eyes that they didn’t think her investigation would lead anywhere. Linda appeared to feel otherwise. ‘One of the things I’ve discovered is that a girl who lived there was expecting a baby. Lísa. Were you aware of that?’
The woman blushed suddenly. ‘Yes. But not until afterwards. It was revealed by the autopsy, and because of my position I was summoned to a meeting at the Regional Office, where we went over it. It took me completely by surprise.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘It didn’t occur to me that the disaster might be connected to it, at that point. Everything was focused on trying to discover who the arsonist was and stopping them from doing it again. A lot of emphasis was also placed on keeping it from the media.’
‘Did you suspect anyone in particular?’
‘God, no. It’s such a terrible thing to do that you don’t want to point the finger at anyone. I’m still convinced that there’s no way an employee could have done it.’ Linda’s blush deepened. ‘The only possible person I could think of turned out to be innocent when they compared his DNA to the foetus.’
‘Who was that?’
‘A young man who worked mainly on the night shift. The one who died in the fire. Friðleifur.’
‘Oh, really? It’s my understanding that he was an all-round good guy. Is that not right?’
The woman placed her palms flat on the table. ‘He was all right, but he was far from a model employee. I never particu-larly liked him, or the other guy who worked the shift with him; I had my doubts that they were doing their job properly. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but that’s just how it was.’
‘Did you catch them doing something wrong?’
‘No, I can’t say I did; if I had caught them, they would have been fired. I worked at the weekend on occasion, and more than once I found the place in a suspicious condition – beer cans lying about, that kind of thing, which suggested that one or both of them had been drinking at work. They turned out to be completely sober, both times, and had excuses that the director accepted, though I disagreed with her. Who’d be gullible enough to believe that they kept finding the cans littered around the garden and decided to clear them up? Not me, that’s for sure. Then there were huge supplies of intralipid, an IV medicine that’s given when oral nutrition is insufficient, which went missing, along with the butterfly needles and tubes used to administer it. On two occasions I found empty bags in the wastepaper basket in the duty room, which they couldn’t explain; they said they must have already been there when they came to work, but I simply didn’t believe it. No more empty bags or needles were ever found, but the supplies continued to dwindle mysteriously. I felt Glódís didn’t deal with the problem effectively; she wanted to give herself more time to get to the bottom of it, which of course never happened. And people were hardly queuing up to replace them if they had to let them go, which was no doubt a factor in her deciding to turn a blind eye.’
‘Do you think they were into drugs, or were selling them there at night?’
‘Well, I’m no expert in recreational drug use, but I can’t see how IV drips would be involved. But they clearly shouldn’t have been anywhere near the stuff, much less setting up needles, preparing mixtures or anything like that.’
‘Wasn’t it stored in a locked cabinet?’
‘No; that was one of the things that needed sorting out. We were still waiting for a refrigerator that was specially designed for storing that type of drug. The drug could be stored at room temperature, but it was better to keep it in cold storage. While we were waiting for lockable storage it was kept in a little fridge in a room next to Glódís’s office. We kept a stock of needles and other medical supplies there, stuff we had to have quick access to. The room was locked, of course, but the night watchmen had master keys to all the doors.’
‘I understand Friðleifur’s sister and a friend paid him a visit very early one morning. Was this a frequent occurrence?’
Linda scowled. ‘No, I don’t think so. That sounds typical of him, though.’
It was clear that Thóra would have to contact Friðleifur’s sister and the other night watchman, who hadn’t answered any of her calls. ‘There’s something else I’m extremely keen to find out: the name of the girl who lived in Apartment 06. She’d been admitted to hospital shortly before the fire. I’d like to be able to speak to her, in case she has any information.’
‘Oh, God.’ The woman sighed. ‘I might have to disappoint you there. You may not know enough about her condition; she’s got what’s called “locked-in syndrome” and her communication is extremely limited.’
‘It’s my understanding that she can convey messages with her eyes. Isn’t that right?’
‘Not everyone is capable of communicating that way. I hope I’m not insulting you.’
Thóra shook her head. ‘Could you explain this “locked-in syndrome”?’
‘It’s one of the worst afflictions imaginable, to my mind. It’s a brain-stem injury that severs contact with all the muscles controlling voluntary movements, except those that move the eyes. There’s actually an even worse version, in which you lose control of your eyes as well. It’s sometimes likened to being buried alive and it’s very different from a coma, because the person affected is still conscious. In other words, the lower part of the brain is damaged, while the upper part is fine.’
‘What about the nerve endings? Can these people feel anything?’
‘Yes, often, as in this case. The girl’s name is Ragna Sölvadóttir; she ended up like this after falling from a great height several years ago, and she has no hope of recovering. Usually the syndrome is the result of a stroke or accident, sometimes other causes, but luckily it’s rare. I don’t know what’s happened to her, but I imagine she’s been moved to another residence or a similar institution. She can’t just go home while she waits for a place to open up, and her parents have moved out of Iceland. In search of work, I believe.’
Thóra couldn’t think of much to say. The thought of this syndrome sent chills up her spine, but she pushed it out of her mind. Was there any possibility that the person who had impregnated Lísa had also made a move on this girl, who was in a similar condition? Perhaps she could get a description of the man, which might allow them to track him down. ‘You don’t know whether something in Apartment 02 was connected to a hose, a hose that could be described as short, specifically? That was Natan’s apartment. Forgive the odd nature of the question, but I can’t really explain it any better since I received the information in a rather cryptic message.’
Linda shook her head. ‘I can’t remember anything like that. If this is related to the fire in any way, then I would doubt the information, because Natan couldn’t have been involved. If he was, I’d be flabbergasted.’