Sea of Stone

by Michael Ridpath

  ‘I got to Bjarnarhöfn twenty minutes before that. So that would have been about eleven-ten,’ Magnus said. ‘And I didn’t see Sylvía’s car, so if she left the farm, it would have been before then.’

  ‘And we know that Hallgrímur was alive at ten-twenty-five, because that’s when the phone records say that Ollie called him.’

  ‘So Sylvía could have killed him just after that and left by eleven o’clock. It would take her about twenty-five minutes to half an hour, I would think, to drive from the farm to the church here.’

  ‘So if she left a little before eleven, she could have got here at about eleven-fifteen?’

  ‘She could.’

  The two detectives stood in silence.

  ‘My grandmother can be quite stubborn,’ said Magnus. ‘Shall I talk to her? I think she might tell me what happened.’

  The hostility in Ingvar’s house was palpable. Björn answered the door. Sylvía was still in her place on the edge of the armchair knitting. And Gabrielle was pacing up and down, glaring.

  ‘Have you arrested him?’ she asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ said Emil. ‘He wasn’t at the clinic. But we will pick him up shortly.’

  ‘You are making a dreadful mistake, you know,’ said Gabrielle. ‘And I want some proper protection. This man you left me with doesn’t even have a gun. I don’t know how you can call yourselves policemen when you don’t carry guns. If this were France, at least he would be armed.’

  Magnus had sympathy with Gabrielle’s point of view, but kept quiet.

  ‘We do have firearms in the area,’ Emil said. ‘In the meantime, would you mind leaving us alone with Sylvía for a few minutes, please, Gabrielle? Björn will keep you company.’

  ‘Keep me company? Watch over me, more like,’ Gabrielle muttered. She turned to the young detective. ‘Come on. Let’s go outside. Have you got a cigarette?’ Björn reached inside his jacket pocket. ‘And don’t listen to her lies about my husband!’

  Emil and Magnus took their seats.

  ‘Poor woman,’ said Sylvía. ‘She can’t believe what she knows is true.’

  ‘Amma?’ Magnus said. ‘I have a question for you.’

  Sylvía put down her knitting for a moment. Magnus noticed she was working on the chest of a traditional lopi sweater. He wondered who it was for. Tóta, perhaps?

  ‘What is it, dear?’

  She used the word elskan, a word used by grandmothers all over Iceland through the centuries to speak to their grandchildren. Except Magnus could not remember his grandmother ever using it for him.

  All Magnus’s professional instincts were screaming at him not to do what he was about to do. In America, it would be fatal to a case not to warn a suspect of their rights. A confession wrought from a confused old lady without a lawyer or a warning would never stand up in court. In Iceland the rules were different and, of course, Magnus needed to clear his own name. But still the policeman in him felt that he was taking advantage of a vulnerable suspect.

  But he was also a son and a grandson. And he needed to find out the truth about his family.

  ‘Amma. Why were you late for church on Sunday?’

  Sylvía was silent for a moment. ‘Your grandfather was correct, Magnús, dear. You were the brightest one in the family. You and perhaps your mother. Ingvar always thought he was so clever, but I was never convinced.’

  ‘Amma?’

  Sylvía looked out of the window into the small back yard, where puffs of cigarette smoke were hovering over Gabrielle and the detective. She sighed.

  ‘I was… detained at the farmhouse.’

  ‘What happened, Amma?’

  Sylvía glanced at Magnus and at Emil, who had slid out a notebook.

  ‘The phone rang. I was in the bedroom; Hallgrímur was in the living room doing his Sudoku. I came through to answer it, but Hallgrímur had already picked it up. I could tell it was Óli. Hallgrímur glared at me. I knew he didn’t want me to hear, so I went back into the bedroom and picked up the phone in there.’

  Sylvía licked her lips, remembering. ‘Óli can scarcely speak Icelandic and neither Hallgrímur nor I speak much English, so the conversation was difficult. I think I heard someone prompting Óli in the background, an Icelander, but Hallgrímur didn’t seem to notice. Anyway, Óli said that he wanted to meet Hallgrímur immediately, or he would speak to the police about Ragnar’s murder and the murder of Benedikt from Hraun. He said he knew that Hallgrímur and Villi were involved in both murders. He wanted Hallgrímur to meet him along the cliffs at Hellnar.

  ‘It took a few minutes for Hallgrímur to understand what Óli was saying, but in the end he agreed to meet Óli at Hellnar. They hung up. I waited a couple of minutes and then went through to the living room.’

  Magnus and Emil listened closely, Emil scribbling in his notebook.

  ‘I think I must have made some noise at the end of the conversation, because Hallgrímur was staring at me when I came in. “Did you hear that?” he asked me.

  ‘I should have just said “no”, or said I had heard something but didn’t understand it. That had been my reaction our whole married life. But something snapped.’

  Sylvía’s speech was quickening and colour was appearing in her cheeks.

  ‘I mean, I had heard my husband virtually admit that he had been involved in murdering two people. I suspected it already – you’ve seen the postcard. I just couldn’t pretend I hadn’t heard what I had just heard. I was suddenly angry, so angry. I had let him get away with his wickedness for years. So I started yelling. I called him a murderer. I told him he was an evil, evil man and he would go to hell. I told him he had made our family evil – Villi, Ingvar, Óli. I told him God would judge him and he couldn’t hide from that.’

  Sylvía swallowed. ‘He was shocked at first, that I would stand up to him. I had never shouted at him like that. Of course I had been angry with him before, countless times, but always I used to say nothing. Then he said, “Don’t talk to me like that, you old cow.” And I told him I would go to the police and tell them everything he had done. “Don’t you dare!” he shouted. “If you go to the police, I will kill you too!”

  ‘I couldn’t stand being in the cottage with him a moment longer, so I stormed outside, slamming the door. I found myself going down towards the church. I just wanted to sit in there, to pray, to ask God what I should do.

  ‘I never turned to see whether he was following me, but he must have been because I had been in the church for less than a minute when he burst in, waving the broom. He started hitting me with it. A couple of years ago, that would have really hurt, but he was a very old man, nowhere near as strong as he used to be, whereas I…’ She gave a small smile. ‘I seem to be stronger than him now.’

  ‘What happened?’ said Magnus.

  ‘He hit me with the broom. I pushed him over, so he fell on the floor. And then I was overcome with rage. I jumped on him, grabbed his hair and banged his head on the floor. Several times. He was screaming, there was a crack, and then he went quiet.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘He was dead. I didn’t know what to do. I fled. I got in my car and drove away. To church. I thought if I got to the church in Stykkishólmur, maybe I could say that I had been there for the whole service. But when I crept in, I knocked over some hymn books and everyone saw me. And when I was sitting there in the pew, thinking, I realized that I must have left my fingerprints all over everything. But somehow you didn’t seem to notice,’ Sylvía said to Emil.

  ‘Because your grandson did such a good job of messing up the crime scene afterwards,’ said Emil.

  ‘Why did you do that, dear?’

  Magnus was about to explain about how he was covering for Ollie, but caught himself at the last minute. That was an offence he did not want to admit to. ‘I was looking for evidence,’ he lied lamely.

  Emil snorted.

  ‘So, I killed your grandfather, Magnús. I know it was a sin, and I have repented and asked for God’s forgiveness. He w
as an evil man. It was God’s will that he should die a nasty death, and I suppose it was God’s will that I should bring that about.’

  She smiled at Magnus. ‘I’m glad you escaped him. He ruined his family, our children. They always did what he wanted. He drove poor Margrét to drink, and stopped her going to America with Ragnar. Villi and Ingvar wanted to get away from him, but they couldn’t. Hallgrímur seemed to have some hold over Villi, I don’t know what. And although Ingvar tried to keep his distance, he couldn’t manage it. Hallgrímur could always bend him to do his will. It might have been Ingvar who killed Benedikt and Ragnar, but you can be absolutely sure that Hallgrímur put the idea in his head, some story about family loyalty, revenge for past deaths, a feud. You heard that schoolteacher, Benedikt’s son, talking about how his own grandfather had been killed by Hallgrímur’s father, and then how Benedikt had pushed Hallgrímur’s father off a cliff on his horse. I think all that was true. And that would be enough for Hallgrímur to fire up his sons to take revenge.’

  Sylvía shook her head. ‘And I watched it. I watched it all and did nothing.’

  ‘Was Ingvar angry about the loan?’ Emil asked.

  ‘Oh, Hallgrímur told me all about the loan,’ Sylvía said. ‘He thought that was very funny. That Ingvar believed he was going to inherit all that money and he was actually going to get nothing.’

  ‘Yet Ingvar still did what Hallgrímur told him?’ Emil asked.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Sylvía said. ‘That’s how he controlled Ingvar, don’t you see? That’s how he controlled all his children. Playing with them. Dangling something in front of them and snatching it away. Ingvar may be sixty, but he would still do anything for his father’s approval. The tougher Hallgrímur was on him, the more desperate Ingvar was for praise. Kolbeinn was like that too. And Margrét. And Hallgrímur knew it too. He loved it.’

  ‘What about Kolbeinn?’ Magnus asked.

  ‘Kolbeinn is a good man,’ Sylvía said. ‘And not too bright. He just did what his father told him, but I don’t think he knew what his father and brothers were up to. Neither did Aníta. You know, her grandmother sent me a message once: to open my eyes and see what was in front of me. I listened to that message. Aníta’s grandmother was a wise woman.’

  ‘Was? Is she dead now?’ Emil asked.

  ‘Oh, she’s been dead at least forty years,’ Sylvía said. Emil frowned, and wrote down her words anyway. ‘Ingvar shouldn’t have shot Aníta. I am surprised Villi allowed that. Villi and Aníta…’

  ‘Yes?’ said Magnus.

  Sylvía hesitated. ‘Villi and Aníta liked each other. Villi will have been angry at Ingvar for shooting her, I am sure.’

  ‘Why did you start the fire in the cottage?’ Emil asked.

  ‘I wanted to destroy the evidence. I knew that there would be letters from Villi to Hallgrímur, perhaps from Ingvar too. And you police have all these scientific methods. But I also wanted to destroy Hallgrímur. I wanted to get rid of his things, of his possessions, of him. He was an evil man. He’s in hell now, I know he is.’

  ‘And your memory?’ asked Emil. ‘You are not suffering from Alzheimer’s?’

  ‘Yes, I think I am beginning to. And when I came back to Bjarnarhöfn from the church at Stykkishólmur, I was confused. I couldn’t believe what I had done, and I didn’t understand why no one was arresting me. Then I saw everyone was treating me like a muddled old lady, not like a murderer, so I played up the confusion.’

  ‘You don’t sound confused now,’ said Emil.

  ‘I’m not,’ said Sylvía.

  Emil showed her his notes. ‘In that case, if I take you to the station and type them up into a statement, will you sign it?’

  Sylvía nodded.

  ‘Thank you. Now will you follow me, please?’

  Sylvía hesitated. ‘I have one question before we go.’

  ‘Yes?’ said Emil.

  ‘Are you allowed chickens in jail?’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  THEY HAD JUST squeezed into Emil’s car, leaving Detective Björn with Gabrielle, when Emil’s phone rang.

  ‘Yes… Yes… Let me think. I’ll call you back.’ Emil put down his phone and turned to Magnus. ‘Ingvar wasn’t with the old farmer. He had been there this morning, but the farmer can’t say when.’ Emil frowned. ‘I wonder where he’s gone.’

  ‘He doesn’t know that we know Villi’s death wasn’t suicide?’ Magnus asked.

  ‘He shouldn’t do,’ said Emil.

  ‘Which means he is probably still hoping he’s in the clear.’

  ‘So he could be coming back to the clinic?’ Emil said.

  ‘Why don’t you give him a call?’ said Magnus. ‘Tell him you want a second opinion about Villi. Tell him to meet you at Swine Lake. He’ll be bound to come. Then there will be plenty of people around to arrest him.’

  Emil grinned. ‘Not a bad idea.’ He turned to Sylvía. ‘I’m sorry, but I am going to have to take you back into the house with the other detective for a few minutes.’

  ‘I hope you catch him,’ said Sylvía.

  Emil hurried Sylvía back into the house.

  ‘You drive,’ he said to Magnus as he returned to the car. ‘I’ve got some calls to make.’

  Magnus switched seats and drove Emil’s car out of town towards the Berserkjahraun and Swine Lake.

  Emil’s first call was to Ingvar. The doctor answered after the second ring. The conversation was brief and matter-of-fact.

  ‘He said he’d do it,’ Emil said to Magnus with a grin.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘I don’t know. But he said he’d be at Swine Lake in fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  Next was Baldur. Magnus could only hear Emil’s side of the conversation. It was clear there was some initial prevarication from the inspector, but then he seemed to understand Emil’s plan and go along with it.

  Then Emil called Rúnar to tell him the plan and arrange for one of the few policemen still available to come to Ingvar’s house and escort Sylvía back to the station.

  They passed the small hill of Helgafell and accelerated over the long stretch of fast road towards the Berserkjahraun. Bjarnarhöfn Fell was clearly visible ahead. A lone car passed them in the other direction. Magnus thought he recognized the driver, if not the vehicle, and twisted around to look.

  ‘Who was that?’ asked Emil.

  ‘No one,’ said Magnus, turning his attention back to the road ahead. But if he hadn’t known she was in America, Magnus would have sworn he had just seen Ingileif.

  Tóta lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, Dikta blaring in her ears from her iPod. She wished Uncle Villi would come back. She even wished Amma was here so they could watch Iceland Idol together. And most of all she hoped that her dad would call from the hospital with news about her mum.

  She felt alone. Alone and scared. Tears welled up in her eyes.

  She had been so angry with her mother after Afi had been murdered, angry with the lot of them. It seemed to her that she was the only one who really cared that he had died; even Amma didn’t seem too bothered, unless perhaps the shock of it had tipped her over into old-biddy confusion. It had been good for Tóta to have her grandmother to look after.

  But then her mum had been shot too. The idea that her mum might die scared the hell out of Tóta. And made her feel guilty. She and her mum had been so close when they were younger; all those horse rides they took together. Tóta used to think that her mum was beautiful; now she was embarrassed by her mother’s long hair at her age. It made her look like a hippy. Mum had shown interest in the boys that Tóta had started to go out with, but Tóta had kept her away from them. They were her business, not her mother’s.

  But now that she was in hospital, Tóta wanted her mummy back. Whole and in one piece.

  Then her cousin Magnus and the fat detective had arrived, asking questions about Amma. Something was up, and Tóta didn’t know what. But couldn’t they just have stopped and rung the Na
tional Hospital like the constable with the moustache had promised to do? And hadn’t.

  She felt as much as heard the door bang downstairs, the music coming through her earphones was so loud. She ripped them off and ran to her window. She was expecting Uncle Villi, but it was Ingvar’s BMW downstairs. He ought to know how to get in touch with a hospital!

  She made her way along the landing and down the stairs. She heard banging, the sound of a cupboard door opening and closing. The noise came from just outside the kitchen.

  The gun cupboard.

  She stopped on the stairs. Craned her neck down so that she could see along the hallway.

  Uncle Ingvar was standing by the open gun cupboard with his back to her. He was breaking open Dad’s shotgun and loading it with a couple of cartridges.

  Someone had taken the rifle from that very cupboard before and used it to shoot her mother. Could it have been Uncle Ingvar?’

  Maybe. Tóta didn’t know. But she did know that Ingvar wasn’t taking the shotgun in such a hurry because he had a sudden desire to shoot ptarmigan.

  She crept back upstairs to her room. Picked up her phone and dialled 112.

  She told the woman who answered what she had seen. The police would be there in a few minutes.

  She put down her phone. There was a creak just outside her bedroom. There, in the doorway, was her uncle, carrying the shotgun. And pointing it straight at her.

  Magnus was passing the turn-off to the Kerlingin Pass and the road to Reykjavík when Emil’s radio sprang to life. It was Rúnar’s voice.

  ‘Emergency call received from Bjarnarhöfn. The girl Tóta has reported seeing Ingvar taking a shotgun out of the gun cupboard there. Is anyone nearby?’

  Emil snatched the mic. ‘Emil here. We are on the D54 going through the Berserkjahraun. Heading over there now.’ He put the mic down. ‘Bjarnarhöfn! Now!’

  As the radio chattered with other officers acknowledging the call, Magnus sped past the track to Swine Lake and turned on to the dirt road through the lava field for Bjarnarhöfn. Most of the police officers at Swine Lake, including the Viking Squad, were on their way.