As Jónatan listened to Flóvent it gradually dawned on him what the police were really after when they came round to his digs and why he had been brought to their offices.
‘Am I under arrest?’ he asked, aghast.
‘Is there any reason why you think you should be?’ asked Thorson.
‘Are you... Do you actually believe I harmed them, both of them? That I... that I... killed them?’
‘Did you?’ asked Flóvent.
His astonishment was unmistakable but something about his manner struck a false note.
‘No,’ Jónatan burst out, the spittle frothing from his mouth. ‘Are you mad?’
‘Did you persuade Hrund to lie about being attacked by one of the hidden people, to cover up what you did to her?’
‘Lie about the hidden people?’
‘Did you repeat the game with Rósamunda when you moved down here to Reykjavík?’
‘No!’
‘Did you force yourself on both girls?’
‘Force myself? No! You’ve got it all wrong. It’s... I can’t believe you’re serious. I don’t believe it. This is... This is crazy,’ said Jónatan, rising from his chair. ‘I have to go home. I need to get on with my thesis and I... I’ve got a lot to do. I’m far too busy for this.’
He rushed towards the door but Thorson blocked his way, seized his arm and led him back to the chair where he pushed him down again. Jónatan offered no resistance.
‘I’m afraid you can’t go home yet,’ said Thorson calmly. ‘Not until we’ve had a chance to talk some more.’
32
Frank Ruddy listened to the approaching footsteps. Two men, he thought, in a hurry by the sound of it. They halted outside his cell and he heard the jingling of keys. He was lying on a mattress, smoking and reading a pornographic comic. Propping himself up on his elbow, he listened to the jingling. He was expecting to be released any minute; he’d wasted enough time in the slammer. Last time he checked, there was no law against assuming a false name and lying to Icelandic girls. He shouldn’t have to spend days locked up for that kind of crap. The police said they were checking his criminal record in the States. Well, good luck to them. They wouldn’t find a thing. They said he was still a suspect in the killing of the girl he and Ingiborg had found. A lame excuse. They had nothing on him.
He was on his feet by the time the door opened and the prison guard appeared — with Thorson.
‘You?’ Frank exclaimed.
‘We’d like to ask you to do us a favour.’
‘Favour? How about you do me a favour and let me out of here? How long am I going to be stuck in this hole?’
‘Come take a ride with me,’ said Thorson. ‘And we’ll see.’
Frank stared at him for a beat without answering. The last thing he wanted was to do that son of a bitch Thorson any favours, but on the other hand the monotony was driving him nuts. He wouldn’t mind going for a ride in a car, even though he had no idea what it was about.
‘I’ve run out of smokes,’ he said, eyeing the guard.
‘We can pick some up on the way,’ said Thorson.
‘What kind of a drive?’
‘There’s something I want you to do for me.’
Frank’s curiosity was roused. ‘I didn’t touch that girl. I only found her. That’s no crime.’
‘No, you’re right,’ said Thorson. ‘That’s no crime.’
‘So, what do you want me to do?’
‘Come on, it really won’t take any time at all.’
Frank followed him out along the passage. The guard closed the cell door and turned to watch them leave.
‘Is it about that girl I was with?’ asked Frank as Thorson opened the passenger door for him. ‘About Ingiborg?’
‘No.’
They drove off towards the centre of town.
‘She’s claiming I got her pregnant,’ Frank added after a lengthy pause.
Thorson swung the jeep into Hverfisgata and headed for the National Theatre. ‘And did you?’ he asked.
‘No, there’s no way she’s pinning it on me,’ said Frank. ‘How do I know how many other guys she’s been screwing?’
‘I don’t believe she’s been seeing any other men,’ said Thorson. ‘She strikes me as a very honest young woman who thought she’d found an equally honourable man. Looks to me like she got that wrong.’
‘Have you talked to her?’
‘Briefly. The worst part for her is the lies. The shabby way you treated her. I don’t suppose she was expecting much when she told you about the baby. She just felt you ought to know, and I think she wanted your advice — in spite of everything.’
‘I gave her advice all right.’
Thorson parked a short way from the barricade of sandbags in front of the theatre. He didn’t anticipate any trouble from Frank but needed to keep him in a cooperative mood, so, curbing his anger, he left off the handcuffs and did his best to keep him sweet. There were no other police in sight.
‘What are we doing here?’ asked Frank.
‘Come on,’ said Thorson. ‘We’re going round the back.’
Frank baulked. ‘Why?’
‘Relax, I’m not planning any surprises. I’m not trying to pin anything on you. I just want you to do me a small favour.’
‘What favour?’
‘Come with me.’
Mystified, Frank followed him round the back of the building to the doorway where he and Ingiborg had found the dead girl. Thorson asked him to position himself where he had been standing that evening. Frank did as he was told. Thorson had brought along a torch which he now flashed several times in the direction of Skuggasund. After a short delay, a figure appeared on the corner of Lindargata and Skuggasund, tall, round-shouldered, smoking a cigarette. His outline was clearly discernible in the darkness, silhouetted against the faint glow of a street light further down Skuggasund. There was another lamp post on Lindargata, a few yards from the corner, but it was still broken, as it had been on the evening the girl’s body turned up.
‘Is that the man you saw across the street?’ asked Thorson.
Frank looked over at the figure for a while. ‘If I say it’s him, will you let me out of jail?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If I play along?’
‘Don’t say what you think I want to hear,’ said Thorson angrily. ‘This isn’t about playing along with me. Tell me what you think you remember.’
Frank shook his head.
‘I’m not bargaining with you,’ said Thorson. ‘Tell me if you think it’s the same man you saw standing on the corner that night. I’m not cutting you a deal here. Was that where he was standing when you saw him?’
Frank looked across the road. ‘Yeah, he was standing there.’
‘And?’
‘The light’s poor,’ said Frank, ‘and I was in a hurry of course, but I reckon it’s the same guy.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’
‘Take a good look and try to remember what you saw.’
Frank did as Thorson ordered and studied the figure on the corner for a minute or two. ‘I can’t be a hundred per cent sure it’s the guy I saw,’ he said eventually. ‘I can’t swear to it. But it’s possible.’
‘OK,’ said Thorson. ‘I’m going to ask you to look away, just for a second.’