Thóra was speechless. She remembered the references to the phone call to the residence that night, which had been thought to be a wrong number. The person who’d called, the anonymous young man, had been Bjarki. And there was a similar explanation for why so many drunk people had called on the weekends: they’d been trying to get in touch with Friðleifur and Margeir, but if someone else was on duty they simply said that they’d dialled the wrong number. ‘What did Bjarki want to discuss, other than Lísa’s condition?’
‘Friðleifur didn’t really know, but he said that Bjarki had made some vague mention of needing to give one of the residents a bit of a scare.’
‘Ragna?’ Thóra saw no real purpose in scaring Lísa, who had been comatose. ‘Did he think she was there that night?’
‘I have no idea. All I know is that he planned to come, and Friðleifur must have ended up arguing with him, which ended with Bjarki starting the fire. Maybe Friðleifur let it slip that there was some speculation about Lísa’s condition.’
Thóra flipped her phone open to call the police. ‘What were you doing here, and in those people’s garden in Mosfellsbær?’
‘I came here to double check that there was nothing left of the money that belonged to me and Friðleifur. We hid it in boxes in our duty room and I’ve never dared to look for it until now in case it attracted attention. Now I’m in such deep shit that I was hoping the box had escaped the damage and I could use the money to get out of the country.’ In other words, he was only worried about saving his own skin. ‘It probably got burnt, or it’s just gone, but I was so desperate that I had to check.’
‘And Mosfellsbær?’ Thóra began to dial the police. ‘What was that all about?’
‘That address was in one of the text messages and I thought whoever lived there might be sending them. I’ve been trying to get in touch with the man because it was a man who called, not a woman, but I haven’t managed to meet him. I’ve only seen a woman and a child in that house when I’ve been there.’
The police answered and after describing the situation briefly, Thóra asked them to send officers to the care home. Then she hung up. ‘What is NNI80 supposed to mean? What you wrote in the frost on the window?’
‘What? I wrote 08INN. It was in one of the texts and I hoped that the man would see it when he came home and realize I was there. The kid wasn’t supposed to see it.’
Of course the writing had been in reverse on the window – Margeir had written it on the outside, while the child had seen it from the inside. Obviously Tryggvi must have intended to write NNI8O or something similar, since everything he drew was in mirror image. Thóra sighed. But how would Jósteinn know about this, except from having seen Tryggvi’s drawings? And how would he have got to see those in the first place, and what exactly had he been up to? Perhaps Einvarður had scanned in the images and stored them on his laptop, even though that seemed a bit unlikely. ‘Do you know anything about a hit-and-run accident on Vesturlandsvegur Road, in which a young woman died? Could that have had anything to do with Bjarki?’
He shook his head firmly. ‘I don’t know anything about that. All this stuff about the residence is enough drama for me.’
He had a point. While they were waiting for the police, Thóra couldn’t help thinking that something was missing in all of this. Was Jakob’s claim to have seen an angel really just nonsense, and why had Jósteinn got the poor woman and her son involved in the case through this nasty little game of his? Even though it now looked like Jakob would almost certainly be released, these niggles were destroying the sense of triumph she should be experiencing. She should be overjoyed: it was probably merely a matter of time before Jakob would be allowed to go home; Matthew had just informed her over pizza that he’d accepted the job – everything seemed to be going as well as it could. And yet. She tried to shake off this negativity as she silently watched the flash of lights from the approaching patrol cars. The investigation had reached a reasonable outcome; you couldn’t always expect to tie up every loose end. Maybe that bastard Jósteinn would answer some of the questions that were still bothering her when they met the next day. She didn’t want the slightest doubt about Jakob’s innocence to ruin the case.
What was really bothering her was not being able to see the link between these two cases. On the surface they seemed unrelated, save for the fact that in each of them innocent victims had died – but she was sure they must be connected, or why would the text have directed Margeir to Berglind’s house? The phone call from Berglind that came as they drove away, following the police at a distance, confirmed it. ‘I know where I’ve seen these letters and numbers…’
CHAPTER 36
Saturday, 23 January 2010
Thóra and Matthew had been sitting with the man for nearly an hour, but he had not looked up once. As a result, it was impossible for Thóra to fathom Jósteinn’s reaction to her having found out about his computer activities; his averted face revealed nothing and everything he said was toneless. They were sitting as usual in the shabby living room at Sogn. Although it was quite spacious, being anywhere near this terrifying man always felt overwhelming. Although he didn’t say much, and most of what he said was fairly innocuous, it was impossible to ignore the disgusting details he dropped into the conversation every now and again like little reminders of his wickedness. It was precisely the unpredictability of their appearance that meant neither Matthew nor Thóra were able to arm themselves against them. Every time Jósteinn said something vile it startled them. Thóra was convinced that he was behaving this way because he knew he would probably never see her again – nor anyone else from now on, apart from those who lived and worked there.
‘We’re not here to discuss your compulsions, Jósteinn.’ Thóra moistened her dry lips. ‘You should speak to a doctor about them, or someone who can help you. We’re not interested in these things and we don’t have the expertise to work through them with you. If you can’t stick to the subject, then we’ll just have to get the information we need from the police.’
‘All right.’ Jósteinn ran his hand through his thin, greasy black hair. A comb had left light stripes where the scalp shone through. Thóra wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘all right’; all right, they could go to the police or all right, he would stop his sickening digressions? She decided to assume the latter.
‘Go over this again for me, just so that I’m clear on everything.’ Jósteinn had refused to allow them to record the conversation, and fearing that he wouldn’t open up, Thóra was limiting herself to only scribbling down the occasional word or two. ‘Just start at the beginning and repeat what it is you think Ari has done to you.’
Jósteinn looked up now and stared out of the window, and Thóra and Matthew automatically followed his gaze. There was nothing to see but snow, the abandoned greenhouse and the bare branches swaying in the wind. ‘He betrayed me. Maybe it’s not that surprising, but nevertheless, he did. It couldn’t have been anyone but him. He was the only one who knew about the pictures besides me.’
He let out a short, joyless laugh. ‘I thought lawyers were supposed to protect their clients’ interests, not run to the police with information.’ Without turning from the window, he asked: ‘What would you do if you had to defend a man and found there was more evidence against him?’