Fear mixed with concern in Einar’s eyes. He knew he had been caught.
‘Rósa?’
‘Who is Carlotta?’
‘Carlotta?’
‘Yes, Carlotta.’
‘Er. There was a Carlotta on the dig in Greenland. An Italian girl. Actually, she was the one who found the wampum. Is that who you mean?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Oh.’
‘How long have you been sleeping with her?’
‘I haven’t been sleeping with her.’
‘Don’t lie to me, Einar. Not now.’
‘She and I did have a night together maybe. Just after she found the wampum. But that was over a year ago. And I’m really sorry.’
Rósa didn’t say anything. She couldn’t say anything.
‘It was a mistake. You know I’ve done that every now and then. But I’ve stopped now, I promise.’
The anger dried up Rósa’s tears.
Einar put his hand on Rósa’s shoulder. This time she didn’t brush it off.
‘Rósa? Have some champagne.’
‘How was Venice?’
‘Venice?’
‘Yes. You went to Venice last weekend. With Carlotta.’
‘Er...’
‘When I called you last weekend and you said you were marking essays, you were in Venice with another woman. A woman who you had been seeing for over a year.’
‘Actually, I was marking essays.’
‘Einar!’ Rósa screamed. She shook off his hand and walked over to the window, staring out at the couple of pedestrians in the street below.
She knew Einar slept with other women. He always had. At first she had hoped that he would stop once they were going out, and then once they were married, but he hadn’t. She pretended not to notice. She knew he loved her more than any of the others, she never doubted it for one minute. There had been one who had been serious — Eygló — and although Rósa hadn’t confronted Einar, she had confronted the other woman, who had backed off in shame.
But with that exception she was pretty certain none had ever lasted for more than a night or two.
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Einar had a whole string of steady girlfriends all over the world; maybe she was just one of many.
‘Damn you, Einar! Not now. Why now?’
‘Hey, look, Rósa, I’m so sorry.’
‘I want you to get rid of her,’ Rósa said.
‘Yes of course,’ Einar said in his conciliatory voice. ‘Of course I will.’
‘No, I mean it!’
‘And I mean it,’ Einar said. But he didn’t. She knew that. He knew that.
She turned to face him. ‘Einar, the reason I was crying earlier. Before I found out about Carlotta...’
‘Yes?’
‘I have breast cancer.’
Einar’s jaw loosened. He looked at Rósa with a mixture of horror and compassion. And love. Deep love. She could see it.
‘When did you find out? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Three days ago. And I’m telling you now.’
Einar sat, his eyes never leaving Rósa, his face a battlefield of emotions.
‘Einar, I’m going to ask you again. I want you to stop sleeping with Carlotta. And any other woman after her. Will you promise me that?
He closed his eyes. He looked up to the ceiling, then back at Rósa. His lower jaw wobbled. Rósa realized he was on the verge of tears himself. Rósa had never seen Einar cry.
‘Yes,’ he said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it. ‘Yes. I promise you, Rósa. I will not sleep with Carlotta again. Nor with any other woman.’ He swallowed. ‘Ever.’
Rósa looked at Magnus and Vigdís.
‘And I thought he kept that promise. Did he?’
Magnus didn’t answer.
‘Carlotta was here in Iceland, wasn’t she? She was found dead at Glaumbaer where Einar had been filming that day. It was on the TV news. I’m no fool.’
That was for sure. ‘So you think he had restarted the affair?’ Magnus asked.
‘Had he? You know; I don’t.’ She was still cool, but her blue eyes were piercing. There was anger there.
‘We don’t know for sure,’ said Magnus. He did know that Einar had a very awkward evening with his wife ahead of him.
‘Do you think my husband killed her?’ Rósa asked.
‘Why would he do that?’ said Magnus.
‘I have no idea,’ said Rósa. ‘And furthermore I find it impossible to think of my husband as a killer. An occasional scumbag, perhaps, but that’s different.’ Her eyes hardened. ‘Don’t play games with me, inspector. I know you have a job to do, but I have a marriage to protect. Tell me what you need to know and I will endeavour to answer. But don’t try to trick me into incriminating my husband.’
‘I won’t play games,’ said Magnus. ‘But I do need to know how much you knew about Carlotta, and about your husband’s relationship with her. Has Einar told you anything about a letter that was discovered in the Vatican archives last year, written by Christopher Columbus to his brother? Does he discuss his work with you?’
‘Oh, yes, he does. I’ve always been very interested in what he’s doing. In fact that’s how we met; we were students together. I loved archaeology, and I would have liked to stick with it, but one of us had to earn some real money and so I went to law school. So I know about the letter and the wampum that Carlotta found in Greenland. But I thought the guy who discovered the letter was called Federico. Federico Trapanese, I think?’
‘He may have discovered it, but it was Carlotta who told Einar about it. We think that’s what she wanted to speak to him about in Saudárkrókur.’
‘So you mean they weren’t having an affair?’
Magnus shrugged. He really didn’t want to mess with this woman’s marriage any more than he had to; there was no need to mention Einar’s trip to Nantucket with Carlotta. ‘As I said, we don’t know. Einar denies it.’
‘Of course he does.’
Magnus had one more question to ask. ‘As a lawyer, I am sure you will understand the reason for my next question. Where were you precisely last Monday night?’
‘I was in London seeing a client. I left on Sunday and came back late on Monday night.’
‘Can you give us details of your flights and hotel?’
‘By all means,’ said Rósa. She pulled out her phone, tapped it, scribbled flight numbers and a London hotel name down on her pad and tore off the sheet to give to Magnus.
Rósa hadn’t returned to Keflavík Airport until 10.30 p.m. on Monday night. If she had driven directly from Keflavík to Glaumbaer, she wouldn’t have arrived there until three or four in the morning.
On their way out, Rósa asked the receptionist to show Magnus and Vigdís the confirmed flight details and check-in confirmations on her computer and to print them out. It would take a day or so to check the London hotel; they would be unable to request the information from the hotel directly but would need to go through the British police. But Magnus was confident that the hotel would confirm that Rósa had stayed the night there.
Rósa hadn’t murdered Carlotta.
Twenty-Six
Magnus’s car was parked next to a low wall facing Borgartún. As he opened the door he saw a blonde woman walking along the pavement, a small boy attached to her left hand.
He stopped.
She looked up.
Her eyes met his. Grey eyes. Sad. Familiar. So familiar.
Ingileif.
‘Hi,’ said Magnus.
The sadness left the woman’s eyes to be replaced by confusion, and then a smile, the warm enthusiastic smile that Magnus knew so well.
‘Magnús! I didn’t realize you were back in Iceland?’