Voices

Voices Page 17

by Arnaldur Indridason

  Henry Wapshott hesitated.

  'Yes,' he said at last.

  'The note we found, 18.30, was that the time of your meeting?'

  'That was the day before he was found dead. We sat down in his room and had a short meeting.'

  'About what?'

  'About his records.'

  'What about his records?'

  'I wanted to know, I've wanted to know for a long time, whether he had any more. Whether the handful I know about, in my own collection and others', are the only copies in the world. For some reason he wouldn't answer. I asked him first in a letter that I wrote him several years ago, and it was one of the first things I asked when I met him.'

  'So, did he have any records for you?'

  'He refused to say.'

  'Did he know what his records were worth?'

  'I gave him a fairly clear picture.'

  'And how much are these records really worth?'

  Wapshott did not reply immediately.

  'When I met him the last time, he gave in,' he said. 'He wanted to talk about his records. I...'

  Wapshott hesitated again. He looked behind him and saw the two detectives who were guarding him.

  'I gave him half a million.'

  'Haifa million?'

  'Króna. As a down payment or—'

  'You told me we weren't talking about huge sums'

  Wapshott shrugged and Erlendur thought he detected a smile.

  'So that's another lie,' Erlendur said.

  'Yes.'

  'Down payment for what?'

  'The records he owned. If he had any'

  'And did you let him have the money the last time you met him without knowing if he had any records?'

  'Yes.'

  "Then what?'

  'Then he was killed.'

  'We didn't find any money on him.'

  'I don't know anything about that. I gave him half a million the day before he died.'

  Erlendur recalled asking Sigurdur Óli to check Gudlaugur's bank account. He must remember to ask him what he had found out.

  'Did you see the records in his room?'

  'No.'

  'Why should I believe that? You've lied about everything else. Why should I believe anything you say?'

  Wapshott shrugged.

  'So he had half a million on him when he was attacked?'

  'I don't know. All I know is that I gave him the money and then later he was killed.'

  'Why didn't you tell me about that money in the first place?'

  'I wanted to be left alone,' Wapshott said. 'I didn't want you to think I'd killed him for the money'

  'Did you?'

  'No.'

  They paused.

  'Are you going to charge me?' Wapshott asked.

  'I think you're still hiding something,' Erlendur said. 'I can hold you until the evening. Then we'll see.'

  'I could never have killed the choirboy. I worship him and still do. I've never heard such a beautiful voice from any boy.'

  Erlendur looked at Henry Wapshott.

  'Strange how alone you are in all this,' he said, before even realising it.

  'What do you mean?'

  'You're so alone in the world.'

  'I didn't kill him,' Wapshott said. 'I didn't kill him.'

  18

  Wapshott left the hotel accompanied by the two policemen, while Erlendur found out that Ösp, the girl who had discovered the body, was currently working on the fourth floor. He took the lift and when he arrived there he saw her loading a trolley with dirty laundry outside one of the rooms. She did not notice him until he walked up to her and said her name. She looked up and recognised him at once.

  'Oh, is it you again?' she said indifferently.

  She looked even more tired and depressed than when he had met her in the staff coffee room, and Erlendur thought to himself that Christmas was probably no season of joy in her life either. Before he knew it he had asked her.

  'Does Christmas get you down?'

  Instead of answering him she pushed the trolley to the next door, knocked and waited a moment before taking out her master key and opening the door. She called into the room in case someone was inside but had not heard her knocking, then went in and began cleaning, made the bed, picked up the towels from the bathroom floor, squirted cleaner on the mirror. Erlendur wandered into the room after her and watched her at work, and after a while she seemed to notice that he was still there with her.

  'You mustn't come into the room,' she said. 'It's private.'

  'You do room 312 on the floor below,' Erlendur said. 'A weird Brit was there. Henry Wapshott. Did you notice anything unusual in his room?'

  She gave him a look of not quite following what he meant.

  'Like a bloodstained knife, for example?' Erlendur said and tried to smile.

  'No,' Ösp said. She stopped to think. Then she asked: 'What knife? Did he kill Santa?'

  'I don't quite remember how you put it the last time we spoke, but you said some of the guests grope you. I thought you were talking about sexual harassment. Was he one of them?'

  'No, I only saw him once.'

  'And was there nothing that—'

  'He went ballistic,' she said. 'When I went into the room.'

  'Ballistic?'

  'I disturbed him and he threw me out. I went to check what was going on and it turned out he'd made a special request at reception not to have his room tidied. No one told me anything. None of this bloody crew ever says a word to us. So I walked in on him and when he saw me he totally lost it. Went for me, the old sod. As if I have any say at this hotel. He should have gone for the hotel manager.'

  'He is a little mysterious.'

  'He's a creep.'

  'I mean that Wapshott.'

  'Yes, both of them.'

  'So you didn't notice anything unusual in his room?'

  'It was a real mess, but that's nothing unusual.'

  Ösp stopped working, stood still for a moment and looked pensively at Erlendur.

  'Are you getting anywhere? With Santa?'

  'A little,' Erlendur said. 'Why?'

  'This is a weird hotel,' Ösp said, lowering her voice and looking out into the corridor.

  'Weird?' Erlendur had a sudden feeling that she was not quite so self-confident. 'Are you afraid of something? Something here at the hotel?'

  Ösp did not answer.

  'Are you frightened of losing your job?'

  She looked at Erlendur.

  'Yeah right, this is the sort of job you don't want to lose.'

  'So what is it?'

  Ösp hesitated, then seemed to make a decision. As if what she wanted to say was not worth bothering about any longer.

  'They steal from the kitchen,' she said. 'Everything they can. I don't think they've had to go shopping for years.'

  'Steal?'

  'Everything that's not bolted to the floor.'

  'Who are they?'

  'Don't say I told you. The head chef. Him for starters.'

  'How do you know?'

  'Gulli told me. He knew everything that went on at this hotel'

  Erlendur recalled when he stole the ox tongue from the buffet and the head chef saw him and chided him. Remembered his tone of indignation.

  'When did he tell you this?'

  'A couple of months ago.'

  'So what? Did it worry him? Was he going to tell someone? Why did he tell you? I thought you didn't know him.'

  'I didn't know him.' Ösp paused. 'They were having a go at me in the kitchen,' she continued. 'Talking dirty. "How you feeling down there?" and that sort of thing. All the pathetic crap morons like that come up with. Gulli heard it and talked to me. Told me not to worry. He said they were all thieves and he could get them caught if he wanted.'

  'Did he threaten to get them caught?'

  'He didn't threaten anything,' Ösp said. 'He just said it to cheer me up.'

  'What do they steal?' Erlendur asked. 'Did he mention anything in particular?'


  'He said the manager knew but didn't do anything, he's on the take too. He buys black market stuff. For the bars. Gulli told me that too. The head waiter's in on it with him.'

  'Gudlaugur told you that?'

  'Then they pocket the difference.'

  'Why didn't you tell me this when I first talked to you?'

  'Is it relevant?'

  'It might be.'

  Ösp shrugged.

  'I didn't know and I wasn't quite myself after I found him. Gudlaugur. With the condom. And the knife wounds'

  'Did you see any money in his room?'

  'Money?'

  'He'd recently been paid some money but I don't know whether he had it on him when he was attacked.'

  'I didn't see a penny.'

  'No,' Erlendur said. 'You didn't take the money? When you found him?'

  Ösp stopped working and threw her hands down by her sides.

  'Do you mean, did I steal it?'

  'These things happen.'

  'You think I—'

  'Did you take it?'

  'No.'

  'You had the chance.'

  'So did the person who killed him.'

  'That's true,' Erlendur said.

  'I didn't see a penny.'

  'No, all right.'

  Ösp went back to her cleaning. Sprayed disinfectant into the toilet bowl and scrubbed it with the brush, acting as if Erlendur wasn't there. He watched her working for a little while, then thanked her.

  'What do you mean, you disturbed him?' he said, stopping at the door. 'Henry Wapshott. You could hardly have got very far into his room if you called out first the way you did here.'

  'He didn't hear me.'

  'What was he doing?'

  'I don't know if I can ...'

  'It won't go any further.'

  'He was watching TV,' Ösp said.

  'He wouldn't want that to get around,' Erlendur whispered conspiratorially.

  'Or, you know, a video,' Ösp said. 'It was porn. Disgusting.'

  'Do they show porn films at the hotel?'

  'Not that sort of film, they're banned everywhere.'

  'What sort of film?'

  'It was child pornography. I told the manager.'

  'Child pornography? What sort of child pornography?'

  'What sort? Do you want me to describe it?'

  'What day was this?'

  'Fucking pervert!'

  'When was it?'

  'The day I found Gulli.'

  'What did the manager do?'

  'Nothing,' Ösp said. 'Told me to keep my mouth shut about it.'

  'Do you know who Gudlaugur was?'

  'What do you mean, the doorman? He was the doorman. Was he something else?'

  'Yes, when he was little. He was a choirboy and had a very good voice. I've heard his records'

  'A choirboy?'

  'A child star, really. Then somehow everything went wrong in his life. He grew up and it was over.'

  'I didn't know that.'

  'No, no one knew about Gudlaugur any more,' Erlendur said.

  They fell silent, deep in their own thoughts. Some minutes passed.

  'Does Christmas get you down?' Erlendur asked again. It was as if he had found a soul mate.

  She turned towards him.

  'Christmas is for happy people.'

  Erlendur looked at Ösp and a hint of a wry smile moved across his face.

  'You'd get on with my daughter,' he said, and took out his mobile phone.

  Sigurdur Óli was surprised when Erlendur told him about the money that had probably been in Gudlaugur's room. They discussed the need to verify Wapshott's claim that he had been roaming the record markets at the time the murder was committed. Sigurdur Óli was standing in front of Wapshott's cell when Erlendur phoned him, and he described the conditions under which his saliva sample had been taken.

  The cell he was in had housed many poor unfortunates, the whole spectrum from wretched tramps to thugs and murderers, and they had covered the walls and scratched the paint with remarks about their miserable stay in custody.

  In the cell was a toilet bowl and a bed, bolted to the floor. On top of it was a thin mattress and a hard pillow. There were no windows in the cell, but high above the prisoner was a strong fluorescent light that was never switched off, making it difficult for the occupants to tell whether it was day or night.

  Henry Wapshott stood rigid against the wall, facing the heavy steel door. Two warders held him. Elínborg and Sigurdur Óli were also in the cell with a warrant ordering the test to be made, and Valgerdur was there too, cotton bud in hand, ready to take the sample.

  Wapshott stared at her as if she were the devil incarnate, who had arrived to drag him down into eternal hell fire. His eyes were popping out of his head, he arched himself as far away from her as he could, and no matter how they tried, they could not make him open his mouth.

  Eventually they laid him on the floor and held his nose until he had to give in and gasp for breath. Valgerdur seized the chance and rammed the cotton wool bud into his mouth, wiped it around until he retched, then whipped it back out of him and hurried from the cell.

  19

  When Erlendur went back down to the lobby on his way to the kitchen he saw Marion Briem standing at the reception desk in a shabby coat, wearing a hat and fidgeting. He noticed how badly his old boss had aged in the years since they had last met, but still had the same watchful and inquisitive eyes, and never wasted time on formalities.

  'You look awful,' Marion said, sitting down. 'What's getting you down?' A cigarillo appeared from somewhere in the coat and a box of matches with it.

 

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