‘Are you suggesting he was some kind of spy? Eyvindur did say his father was a Nazi.’
‘We have no proof that he was spying,’ Flóvent corrected her. ‘Did Eyvindur imply that he was? Did he see Felix taking photographs on his trips, for example? Or expressing an interest in troop movements or military instillations?’
‘No, I don’t remember anything like that, but...’
‘Yes?’
‘It’s so strange you should mention spying because Felix... Eyvindur told me once that he thought Felix only wanted to be his friend so he could spy on him.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Apparently, Felix was always asking Eyvindur about his father, insisted on going round to his house to play every time, and seemed very curious about his family — downright nosy in fact. Eyvindur found it very odd.’
There was a knock at the laundry door. A British soldier appeared and smiled at Vera, simultaneously casting a suspicious glance at Flóvent and Thorson. Returning his smile, Vera put down the washing and began to tell the man that they were from the police, but soon faltered as her English wasn’t up to the task. Thorson chipped in, explaining that they had come to see Vera in connection with Eyvindur’s death. The man turned out to be Billy Wiggins, Vera’s boyfriend, a rather stocky British sergeant of around thirty, with red hair and a ruddy complexion, who was clearly none too pleased to find his girlfriend in the company of other men so late in the evening.
‘You all right, love?’ he asked Vera. She nodded. He walked over and took her in his arms and they kissed. The news of Eyvindur’s death didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. Flóvent caught Thorson’s eye, then asked Vera to step outside with him. When Billy made to follow, Thorson blocked his path, saying that he’d like to ask him a few questions; it would only take a minute. Billy looked set to push past him, but Thorson was firm, repeating that he didn’t want any trouble but he had a few questions. When Billy continued to ignore him, Thorson informed him that he would have to accompany him to police headquarters. The sergeant gave in and Thorson began asking him about his relationship with Vera and whether he had ever met Eyvindur.
‘What’s it to you?’ asked Billy Wiggins, with an uneasy glance out of the door to where Flóvent and Vera stood talking. ‘Why don’t you leave me alone?’
‘Did you know him, sergeant?’
‘No, I never met him. Never laid eyes on the man.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Sure? Of course I’m sure. What do you take me for? You don’t think I had anything to do with his... with his death?’
‘I didn’t say that. Are you concerned about that?’
‘About what?’
‘About being implicated in the murder?’
‘No, I’m not. Because I didn’t do anything to the bloke. Vera’s a great girl and... and we get on well together. She’d made up her mind to leave him ages ago. She was just waiting for the right moment.’
‘How did you meet Vera?’
‘How? At Hótel Ísland. She was out having fun.’
‘Was she there with Eyvindur?’
‘No,’ said Billy with an ugly laugh, raising his eyebrows at Thorson’s naivety. ‘He wasn’t there.’
Flóvent was standing outside, watching the washing fluttering in the evening breeze. Vera had taken out another cigarette. She inhaled, her eyes on the door of the laundry where Thorson was talking to Billy.
‘So you can’t imagine why Eyvindur would have gone to see Felix after all these years?’ Flóvent asked.
‘No, I... nothing comes to mind.’
‘Could it have been something to do with his sales trips? Or their school days? Something he wanted to ask him about? Had they started meeting up again? Renewed their friendship?’
‘I simply can’t help you,’ said Vera, blowing on the glowing tip of her cigarette. ‘Eyvindur sometimes talked about Felix, but he never had anything good to say about him. Only that when they were boys he’d suddenly dropped him and refused to have anything more to do with him. Eyvindur felt used. That’s how he talked about Felix. He said it hadn’t been a real friendship after all.’
‘It’s possible Felix was no longer allowed to see him,’ said Flóvent. ‘To associate with him. That’s the sort of home he was from. His father was very strict, I’d imagine. A snob.’
‘Yes, anyway, Eyvindur was still wondering about it. About what really happened.’
‘Did he ever mention taking part in any experiments at his school?’ asked Flóvent.
‘What kind of experiments?’
‘I’m not entirely sure,’ said Flóvent. ‘I just wondered if he’d said anything. A series of tests — to do with his health, perhaps. Or his development.’
‘No, I don’t remember him talking about that. Though he did once mention a school nurse, whose name I’ve forgotten. He showed me a picture of her. Felix was in it too.’
Flóvent took out the school pamphlet from Eyvindur’s flat and showed it to her. Vera confirmed that it was the same picture. She held it up to the light from the laundry door and peered at it.
‘I wonder if it could have been him?’ she mused, as if to herself.
‘Who?’
‘Him,’ she said, pointing to the boy standing next to Eyvindur and Felix in the photo. ‘I have a feeling he was the one Eyvindur was talking about. I can’t remember his name but he had a similar story to tell.’
‘A similar story? How do you mean?’
‘It was like he’d experienced the same thing,’ said Vera. ‘Eyvindur ran into him one day and they started talking about Felix and it was exactly the same story. Felix had gone out of his way to get to know the boy at school and was close friends with him for a while, spent a lot of time with him. Then he suddenly dropped him, never spoke to him again.’
‘Do you think that could have been why Eyvindur went to see Felix?’ asked Flóvent. ‘To ask what was going on?’
‘I suppose it’s possible.’ said Vera. ‘I just don’t know. Haven’t the foggiest. He was always... always trying to sort something out, always saying that things were about to get better. He claimed he was about to come into a load of money. I gave up on him in the end. Couldn’t take it any more.’
‘Where was this money supposed to come from?’
‘He never said. I expect it was all talk, as usual.’
34
Brynhildur Hólm told Flóvent she had hardly slept a wink, but then she’d never had to spend a night in prison before. He could tell she was badly shaken by the experience. She complained bitterly about being locked up, protesting that such treatment was quite uncalled for. She had demonstrated a willingness to cooperate with the police: there was nothing to be gained from throwing her in jail. Flóvent explained, as he had the night before, that she had admitted to aiding and abetting a man suspected of a serious crime and that it would be irresponsible of the police to allow her to remain at large. There was a risk she might destroy evidence, and she might well continue to assist the suspect.
The plan was to isolate Felix and force him to give himself up, or at least smoke him out of his hiding place. A formal warrant had been issued for his arrest and members of the public were being urged to inform the police if they had any information about his movements over the past week. His photograph had been published in the papers and circulated to police stations up and down the country, as well as to the military police.
At midday, Flóvent sat down with Brynhildur Hólm in the interview room at the prison. She had been officially detained in custody for several days. Flóvent brought out the papers he had discovered under the wardrobe in Rudolf’s surgery and spread them on the table. Her expression didn’t change. Flóvent began by remarking that so far none of the people involved in the case had told him more than a fraction of the truth, it seemed to him. And that what he had been told was implausible at best. All the facts had been twisted with the express purpose of misleading the police.