Voices de-5

by Arnaldur Indridason

  “Yes, apart from that. So his father finds him in his room upstairs and thinks he’s crawled home from school in that state.”

  “You visited the boy in hospital and asked if it was his father who assaulted him, and he made some reaction that convinced you it was.”

  “I must have misunderstood him,” Elinborg said, her head bowed. “I read something into his manner…”

  “But we have nothing to prove it was the mother. We have nothing to prove it wasn’t the father.”

  “I told him, the boy’s father, that I’d been to the hospital to talk to his wife and that we know nothing about her whereabouts on the day of the assault. He was surprised. As if it never occurred to him that she could escape from the hospital. He’s still convinced it was the boys in the school playground. He said the boy would tell us if his mother had assaulted him. He’s convinced of that.”

  “So why doesn’t the boy name her?”

  “He’s in a state of shock, poor thing. I don’t know.”

  “Love?” Erlendur said. “In spite of everything she’s done to him.”

  “Or fear,” Elinborg said. “Maybe a huge fear that she’ll do it again. Either way he might be keeping quiet to protect his mother. It’s impossible to say”

  “What do you want us to do? Should we drop the charges against the father?”

  “I’m going to talk to the State Prosecutor’s office and find out what they say”

  “Start with that. Tell me another thing, did you phone the woman who was with Stefania Egilsdottir at this hotel a few days before Gudlaugur was stabbed?”

  “Yes,” Elinborg said vacantly. “She asked her friend to vouch for her but when it came to the crunch she couldn’t go through with the lie.”

  “You mean lie for Stefania?”

  “She began by saying that they’d been sitting here, but she was very hesitant about it, and she was such a bad liar that when I said I had to bring her down to the station to make a statement she started crying over the phone. She told me how Stefania phoned her, they’re old friends from a music society, and asked her to say they were together at this hotel if she was asked. She said she refused, but Stefania appears to have some hold over her and she won’t tell me what it is.”

  “It was a poor lie from the start,” Erlendur said. “We both knew she let it slip out. I don’t know why she’s holding up the investigation like this unless she knows it’s her fault”

  “You mean that she killed her brother?”

  “Or she knows who did.”

  They lingered at their table for a while and talked about the boy, his father and mother and the difficult family circumstances, which prompted Elinborg to ask Erlendur once again what he was going to do for Christmas. He said he was going to be with Eva Lind.

  He told Elinborg about his discovery in the basement corridor and his suspicions that Osp’s brother was somehow involved, a delinquent with endless money problems. He thanked Elinborg for the invitation and told her to take off the rest of the time until Christmas.

  “There isn’t any time until Christmas” Elinborg smiled, and shrugged as if Christmas no longer mattered, what with all the cleaning and cookies and in-laws.

  “Will you get any Christmas presents?” she asked.

  “Maybe some socks,” Erlendur said. “Hopefully.”

  He hesitated before saying: “Don’t upset yourself about the boy’s father. These things always happen. We feel certain, convinced even, then something always comes along that erodes it.”

  Elinborg nodded.

  Erlendur followed her through the lobby and they exchanged farewells. He planned to go up to his room to pack. He’d had enough of the hotel. He was seriously beginning to miss his “hole with nothing in it”, his books, his armchair and even Eva Lind lying on the sofa.

  He was standing waiting for the lift when Osp surprised him.

  “I’ve found him,” she said.

  “Who?” Erlendur said. “Your brother?”

  “Come with me,” Osp said, heading for the stairs to the basement. Erlendur hesitated. The lift doors opened and he looked inside. He was on the trail of the murderer. Perhaps Osp’s brother had come to turn himself in at her urging: the lad with the chewing tobacco. Erlendur felt no excitement about it. None of the expectation or sense of triumph that accompanied solving a case. All he felt was fatigue and sadness because the case had stirred up all manner of associations with his own childhood, and he knew he had so much left to come to terms with in his own life that he had no idea where to begin. Most of all he wanted to forget about work and go home. Be with Eva Lind. Help her to get over the troubles she was dealing with. He wanted to stop thinking about others and start thinking about himself and his own people.

  “Are you coming?” Osp said in a low voice, standing on the stairs and waiting.

  “I’m coming,” Erlendur said.

  He followed her down the stairs and into the staff coffee room where he had first spoken to her. It was as squalid as ever. She locked the door behind them. Her brother was sitting at one of the tables and leaped to his feet when Erlendur walked in.

  “I didn’t do anything,” he said in a high-pitched voice. “Osp says you think I did it, but I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything to him!”

  He was wearing a dirty blue anorak with a rip on one shoulder that revealed the white lining. His jeans were black with grime and he was wearing scruffy black boots that could be laced up to the calves, but Erlendur saw no laces in them. His fingers were long and filthy, clutching a cigarette. He inhaled the smoke and blew it back out. His voice was agitated and he paced back and forth in the corner of the kitchen like a caged animal, cornered by a policeman who was poised to arrest him.

  Erlendur looked over his shoulder at Osp, who was standing by the door, then back at her brother.

  “You must trust your sister to come here like this.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” he said. “She told me you were cool and just wanted some information.”

  “I need to know about your relationship with Gudlaugur,” Erlendur said.

  “I didn’t stab him,” he said.

  Erlendur sized him up. He was halfway between adolescence and adulthood, peculiarly childlike but with a hardened expression that displayed anger and bitterness towards something that Erlendur could not even begin to imagine.

  “No one is suggesting you did,” Erlendur said reassuringly, trying to calm him down. “How did you know Gudlaugur? What relationship did you have?”

  He looked at his sister but Osp just stood by the door and said nothing.

  “I did him favours sometimes and he paid me for it,” he said.

  “And how did you know each other? Have you known him for a long time?”

  “He knew I was Osp’s brother. He thought it was funny that we’re brother and sister, like everyone does.”

  “Why?”

  “My name’s Reynir.”

  “So? What’s funny about that?”

  “Osp and Reynir. Aspen and Rowan. Brother and sister. Mum and Dad’s little joke. Like they’re into forestry”

  “What about Gudlaugur?”

  “I first saw him here when I came to meet Osp. About half a year ago.”

  “And?”

  “He knew who I was. Osp had told him a bit about me. She sometimes let me sleep at the hotel. On his corridor.”

  Erlendur turned to Osp.

  “You cleaned that alcove very carefully,” he said.

  Osp gave him a blank look and did not reply. He turned back to Reynir.

  “He knew who you were. You slept on the corridor in front of his room. What then?”

  “He owed me money. Said he would pay.”

  “Why did he owe you money?”

  “Because I did him favours sometimes and—”

  “Did you know he was gay?”

  “Isn’t that obvious?”

  And the condom?”

  “We always used condoms. He was
paranoid. He said he didn’t take chances. Said he didn’t know if I was infected or not. I’m not infected,” he said emphatically and looked at his sister.

  And you chew tobacco.”

  He looked at Erlendur in surprise.

  “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “That’s not the point. Do you chew tobacco?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you with him the day he was stabbed?”

  “Yes. He asked me to see him because he was going to pay me.”

  “How did he get hold of you?”

  Reynir took a mobile phone out of his pocket and showed it to Erlendur.

  “When I arrived he was putting on his Santa suit,” he said. “He said he had to rush off to the Christmas party, paid me what he owed, looked at his watch and saw he had time for a quickie.”

  “Did he have a lot of money in his room?”

  “Not that I knew of. I just saw what he paid me. But he said he was expecting a load of money.”

  “Where from?”

  “I don’t know. He said he was sitting on a goldmine.”

  “What did he mean by that?”

  “It was something he was going to sell. I don’t know what it was. He didn’t tell me. Just said he was expecting loads of money, or a lot of money, he never said loads. He never talked like that. Always spoke polite and used classy words. He was always really courteous. A good bloke. Never did me any harm. Always paid. I know loads of worse people than him. Sometimes he just wanted to talk to me. He was lonely, or at least he said he was. Told me I was his only friend.”

  “Did he tell you anything about his past?”

  “No.”

  “Nothing about being a child star once?”

  “No. A child star? At what?”

  “Did you see a knife in his room that could have come from the hotel kitchen?”

  “Yes, I saw a knife in there but I don’t know where it came from. When I went to see him he was picking away at his Santa suit. He said he had to get a new one for next Christmas”

  “And he didn’t have any money besides what he paid you?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Did you rob him?”

  “No.”

  “Did you take half a million that was in his room?”

  “Haifa million? Did he have half a million?!”

  “I’m told you always need money. It’s obvious how you get it. There are people you owe money. They’ve threatened your family…”

  Reynir glared at his sister.

  “Don’t look at her, look at me. Gudlaugur had money in his room. More than he owed you. Maybe he’d sold part of his goldmine. You saw the money. You wanted more. You did things for him that you thought you ought to be paid more for. He refused, you argued, you grabbed the knife and tried to stab him, but he held you off until you managed to sink the knife into his chest and kill him. You took the money…”

  “You tosser,” Reynir hissed. “What fucking bollocks!”

  “ … and since then you’ve been smoking hash and shooting up or whatever it is you—”

  “You fucking creep!” Reynir shouted.

  “Go on with the story,” Osp called out. “Tell him what you told me. Tell him everything!”

  “Everything about what?” Erlendur said.

  “He asked me if I’d give him one before he went up to the Christmas party,” Reynir said. “He said he didn’t have much time but had money and he’d pay me well. But when we were starting that woman burst in on us.”

  “That woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “What woman?”

  “The one who caught us.”

  “Tell him,” Erlendur heard Osp say behind his back “Tell him who it was!”

  “What woman are you talking about?”

  “We forgot to lock the door and suddenly the door opened and she burst in on us.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know who it was. Some woman.”

  “And what happened?”

  “I don’t know. I buggered off. She shouted something at him and I legged it.”

  “Why didn’t you give us this information straight away?”

  “I avoid the cops. There’s all kinds of people after me and if they know I’m talking to the cops they’ll think I’m grassing and they’ll get me for it”

  “Who was this woman who caught you? What did she look like?”

  “I didn’t really notice. I buggered off. He was mortified. Pushed me away and shouted and totally lost it. He seemed to be terrified of her. Scared shitless.”

  “What did he shout?” Erlendur asked.

  “Steffi.”

  “What?”

  “Steffi. That was all I heard. Steffi. He called her Steffi and he was scared shitless of her.”

  32

  She was standing outside the door to his room with her back to him. Erlendur stopped and watched her for a moment, and saw how she had changed since the first time he saw her, storming into the hotel with her father. Now she was just a tired and weary middle-aged woman who still lived with her crippled father in the house that had always been her home. For reasons unknown to him, this woman had come to the hotel and murdered her brother.

  It was as if she sensed his presence in the corridor, because suddenly she turned round and looked at him. He could not decipher her thoughts from the expression on her face. All he knew was that she was the person he had been looking for since he first went to the hotel and saw Santa sitting in a pool of his own blood.

  She stood still by the door and said nothing until he was standing right next to her.

  “There’s something I have to tell you,” she said. “If it makes any difference.”

  Erlendur thought she had come to see him concerning the lie about her friend and felt the time had come to tell him the truth. He opened the door and she walked in ahead of him, went to the window and watched the snow.

  “They forecast it wouldn’t snow this Christmas,” she said

  “Are you ever called Steffi for short?” he asked.

  “When I was small,” she said, still looking out of the window.

  “Did you brother call you Steffi?”

  “Yes, he did,” she said. “Always. And I always called him Gulli. Why do you ask?”

  “Why were you at this hotel five days before your brother’s death?”

  Stefania gave a deep sigh.

  “I know I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

  “Why did you come?”

  “It was to do with his records. We thought we were entitled to some of them. We knew he had quite a few copies, probably all the ones that didn’t sell when they came out, and we wanted a share if he was planning to sell.”

  “How did he acquire the copies?”

  “Dad had them and kept them at home in Hafnarfjordur, and when Gudlaugur moved out he took the boxes with him. He said they belonged to him. To him alone.”

  “How did you know he was planning to sell them?”

  Stefania hesitated.

  “I also lied about Henry Wapshott,” she said. “I do know him. Not very well, but I should have told you about him. Didn’t he tell you he met us?”

  “No,” Erlendur said. “He has a number of problems. Is anything true that you’ve told me up to now?”

  She did not answer him.

  “Why should I believe what you’re telling me now?”

  Stefania watched the snow falling to earth and was remote, as if she had vanished back into a life she led long ago when she knew no lies and everything was the truth, fresh and pure.

  “Stefania?” Erlendur said.

  “They didn’t argue about his singing,” she said suddenly. “When Dad fell down the stairs. It wasn’t about singing. Hurt’s the last and the biggest lie.”

  “You mean when they had a fight on the landing?”

  “Do you know what the kids called him at school?”

  “I believe I do,” Erlendur said.
r />   “They called him The Little Princess.”

  “Because he sang in the choir and was a sissy and—”

  “Because they caught him wearing one of Mum’s dresses,” Stefania interrupted him.

  She turned away from the window.

  “It was after she died. He missed her terribly, especially when he wasn’t a choirboy any more but just a normal boy with a normal voice. Dad didn’t know, but I did. When Dad was out he sometimes put on Mum’s jewellery and sometimes he tried on her dresses, stood in front of the mirror, even put on make-up. And once, it was in the summer, some boys walked past the house and saw him. Some were in his class. They peeped in through the living-room window. They used to do that sometimes because we were considered odd. They started to laugh and jeer, mercilessly. After that he was considered an absolute freak at school. The kids started calling him The Little Princess.”

  Stefania paused.

  “I thought he just missed Mum,” she continued. “That it was his way of getting close to her, wearing her clothes and putting on her jewellery. I didn’t think he had unnatural urges. But it turned out otherwise.”

  “Unnatural urges?” Erlendur said. “Is that how you regard it? Your brother was a homosexual. Haven’t you been able to forgive him for that? Is that why you had no contact with him for all those years?”

  “He was very young when our father caught him with a boy. I knew he had his friend in his room, I thought they were doing their homework together. Dad came home unexpectedly to look for something and when he walked into Gudlaugur’s room he saw them doing something abominable. He wouldn’t tell me what it was. When I came out the other boy was running down the stairs, Dad and Gulli were on the landing shouting at each other, and I saw Gulli give him a shove. He lost his balance, fell down the stairs and never stood up again.”

  Stefania turned back to the window and watched the Christmas snow gliding to earth. Erlendur said nothing, wondering what she thought about when she disappeared within herself like now, but he could not imagine it. He thought he gained some kind of answer when she broke the silence.

  “I never mattered,” she said. “Everything I did was a secondary consideration. I’m not saying that from self-pity, I think I stopped that ages ago. More to try to understand and explain why I never had any contact with him after that awful day. Sometimes I think I gloated over the way everything turned out. Can you imagine that?”