The Absolution

by Yrsa Sigurdardottir

  Erla looked up and stared at him, her eyes bloodshot. ‘Why, for fuck’s sake? What would be the point of getting himself admitted on false grounds? If they were in cahoots, I can’t see what that would have achieved. Especially if he was planning to take the rap anyway. Plots don’t come any stupider than that. Besides, you seem to be forgetting that he died. He must have had something wrong with him if the hospital says the cause of death was heart failure. Unless you believe Ásta was capable of swapping bodies. Or of killing him herself.’ She shook her head.

  Huldar took back his phone and stuck it in his pocket. ‘I haven’t got any answers yet but maybe I can get her to talk. She knows she’s on our radar. She may be starting to panic. If we put pressure on her, she’ll keep having to tell more and more lies until in the end she trips herself up. I’m the ideal person to go after her because she can’t stand me – it’ll make it harder for her to concentrate on making stuff up. Best-case scenario, I’ll get answers to some questions; worst, I’ll see what makes her jumpy. That often tells its own story. For example, it’ll be interesting to see how she reacts when she hears that we’ve actually arrested a man for the murders. If she’s Mördur’s accomplice, that should at least get a reaction out of her.’

  Erla considered this for so long that Huldar was afraid she’d fallen asleep with her eyes open, but finally she gave a weary sigh and told him to go ahead. Before he could stand up, she added: ‘I forgot to mention another piece of the puzzle that’s just fallen into place. That idiot Kári knocked on my door earlier to tell me that hearing about Laufhildur this morning jogged his memory and now he knows what caused his déjà vu in the car park where we found Stella. Twenty years ago he was on duty when Laufhildur tried to kill herself in the exact same spot. The reason there was nothing about it on the police database or anywhere else is that he never got round to finishing the report afterwards; it slipped his mind. His words, not mine. That’s why there’s no paperwork. All he can remember is the horrific scene when they arrived and how traumatised the girl from the shop was after hearing the shot and finding Laufhildur. Apparently there was a suicide note but of course he’s forgotten what it said apart from the fact that it was very long and made for depressing reading. Which is fuck-all help. They’re scouring the basement for the case files but I don’t believe the old sod filled out a single form. He’s a fucking waste of space. I thought he was just burnt out but it sounds like he’s always been totally incompetent.’

  Huldar was less interested in Kári’s ineptitude than in what he’d told Erla, presumably in the expectation of praise. He guessed she’d torn a strip off him. ‘What on earth was Laufhildur doing behind that shop? They were living on the other side of town in Breidholt at the time.’

  ‘Search me. She’ll have to tell us that herself. Which reminds me of yet another thing I’ve got to do – bring Laufhildur in for interview. That should be interesting, given her alleged agoraphobia. I suppose there’ll be something about the suicide attempt in her medical records but I doubt we’ll be allowed to see them. She’s not under suspicion herself and the search of her room didn’t turn up anything of interest. She doesn’t have a smartphone and her crappy old laptop came up clean. Also, the staff at the care home are adamant that she never leaves the building. Until something proves them wrong I’d say her involvement is zero. I mean, it’s hard to picture someone as broken as she is committing a brutal murder.’

  There was nothing more to say. Huldar got to his feet. As he was leaving, he paused in the doorway to ask if he could take Gudlaugur along. Although he was more than capable of tackling Ásta on his own, he wanted to see if Gudlaugur’s presence would remind her where she knew him from.

  Erla said yes in an absent voice, then asked, before he could leave: ‘Are you hassling me about getting enough sleep because I’m a woman, Huldar? Would you give a shit if I was a bloke?’

  He smiled, shaking his head. ‘Erla, if you were a bloke you wouldn’t feel the need to drive yourself into the ground. You’d be getting your eight hours every night.’

  Without waiting for her response, he went back to his desk and told Gudlaugur they were paying a visit to Ásta. He suppressed a grim smile when he saw the young man’s dismayed reaction.

  Chapter 38

  It was one of those beautifully clear frosty winter days, without a breath of wind. The snow creaked underfoot as Huldar and Gudlaugur walked up to Ásta’s house, past a small, rather lopsided snowman standing alone in the middle of the lawn. The grass showed through where the snow had been rolled into a large ball, suggesting it had been made that morning. Huldar hoped the two little girls had gone out with their other mother. It was much harder to talk to people with their kids around, even if they weren’t in the same room. The thought that they might be listening tended to throw him off his stride. As Gudlaugur, looking pale and subdued, was ringing the bell, it occurred to Huldar that it might have been wiser to bring Ásta into the station. But it was too late now.

  Predictably, it was one of the daughters who opened the door to them. The older girl – Huldar had forgotten her name. She clung to the door-handle, peering through the narrow opening, her cheeks still scarlet from playing outside in the cold. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail but tousled on top, as if she’d recently pulled off a woolly hat. Now, though, judging by the glitter that appeared to have been liberally sprinkled over her head, sleeves and front, she was in the middle of some Christmas art project. Huldar had received his fair share of such creations from his nephews over the years. The parcels would emit a puff of glitter when opened, and the stuff was as hard to clean off as if you’d been tarred and feathered. ‘Is your mummy in?’

  ‘I’ve got two mummies.’ The girl’s face was stony. She wasn’t wearing her patch this time and one of her eyes pointed off to the side when she looked at Huldar. ‘You’re cops. You should know that. You’ve been here before.’ It wasn’t surprising the girl recognised them as they’d changed into uniform to underline the official nature of their visit and, hopefully, bring home the gravity of the matter to Ásta.

  ‘Of course. Sorry, silly me. I meant your mummy Ásta. Is she home?’

  ‘Yes. Wait a minute.’ She closed the door in their faces but they weren’t bothered. Not being let in was par for the course in their job.

  The door opened shortly afterwards, this time to reveal Ásta, with her two daughters close behind, the younger girl as sparkly as her big sister. Ásta’s cheeks were even redder than theirs, but Huldar guessed that was from anger rather than cold. He was right.

  ‘Why are you two back?’ she snapped. ‘I thought we were done?’

  ‘We can talk to you at the station if you prefer. It’s not a problem.’ A barefaced lie, designed merely to frighten her.

  Ásta ran a hand through her curly fair hair, drew down her shapely brows and hesitated. She appeared to be weighing up whether it would be better to invite them in or have to explain to her family why she’d had to leave the house in the company of two police officers. ‘Come in, then. But please make it quick, and keep your voices down. My wife’s asleep. She was on night shift.’ She told the girls to go to their room and when they protested, spoke sharply, and reminded them not to make a noise. The older girl scowled at Huldar, evidently blaming him for disrupting their Saturday. He nodded at her and grinned, but she stuck out her tongue, then whirled round and ran off down the hall.

  They stepped inside, Gudlaugur ducking his head to hide his face from Ásta while they were taking off their shoes. He needn’t have bothered: she was far more preoccupied with checking behind her to make sure the girls didn’t come back. She showed them to the kitchen, ushering them past the living room where Huldar saw open cardboard boxes of Christmas decorations. A scent of pine testified to the presence of a Christmas tree, though he couldn’t see it from the hall. He reflected that if his suspicions about Ásta proved correct, the family might as well close the boxes, throw away the tree and kick down the snowman in the garden
. There wouldn’t be much festive cheer with one of the mothers in custody.

  ‘Mind the girls’ paintings.’ Ásta flapped a hand ungraciously towards the chairs at the kitchen table, which was covered in Christmas cards, scissors and glue. Glitter was strewn over the surface and sparkled on the seat pads as well. While they sat down, she closed the kitchen door and stood with her back to it. ‘Are you here to ask me about Stella again? If you are, I can save you the trouble, because nothing’s changed: I don’t know her and I’ve never met her.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Huldar pushed his chair back from the table to protect his uniform but couldn’t move far because of the wall. ‘Actually, we’re here to ask you about Mördur, the patient you allegedly gave CPR to in the hospital car park just over a week ago.’

  That wrong-footed her but she recovered quickly, folding her arms across her chest and thrusting out her chin. ‘What about him?’

  ‘It seems he was involved in the case we’re investigating. The murders of Stella and now Egill. As you may know, the boy’s body was found yesterday evening.’

  ‘Yes, I saw the news.’

  ‘Then perhaps you also saw that we’ve arrested a man on suspicion of Stella’s murder?’ Huldar watched her intently as she leant against the door to ensure that the girls couldn’t come in. But her reaction wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Instead of looking guilty, she appeared relieved. Her pupils dilated and she opened her mouth in a long breath.

  ‘No, I wasn’t aware.’ She didn’t add anything or ask who the suspect was, as Huldar would have thought natural. ‘Did you come here to tell me that?’

  ‘No.’ Huldar tried to lean back, hindered by the wall. ‘We need to ask you some questions about Mördur Jónasson, as I said.’

  ‘What about him?’ She glared at Huldar with a sudden look of her older daughter. Perhaps she’d stick her tongue out at him as well.

  ‘There are some question marks over the way you saved Mördur’s life and the fact that Stella’s phone was put through your door, given what we now know about his connection to the case. Doesn’t it strike you as odd that a man who owed you his life would want to implicate you in a murder?’

  ‘Don’t ask me what was going through his head. I can only repeat that I haven’t a clue why the phone ended up in our letterbox. Mördur was already seriously ill and helping him in the car park only put off the inevitable. I can’t believe he could have had anything to do with the case since he was bedbound all last week. I think you must have got your wires crossed.’

  ‘Well, you’re wrong about that.’ Huldar pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolded it and laid it carefully among the glue, scissors, glitter and coloured paper. It was a printed map of the National Hospital. ‘Would you mind showing us the exact spot where you encountered Mördur?’

  Ásta detached herself from the door, came over and picked up the map. Biting her lower lip, she turned it this way and that, as if unable to work out what was what. Huldar pressed her. ‘It only happened a week ago. You must be able to remember.’

  ‘I’m trying to get my bearings.’

  He guessed she was playing for time, trying to work out why the location mattered and whether to tell the truth. ‘If you’ve forgotten, we can ask the people who came to help you. We’ll need to talk to them anyway, to confirm your story.’

  Ásta looked up from the map, then replaced it on the table and pointed to the car park near the entrance to the Children’s Hospital. She seemed to have suddenly oriented herself. ‘I parked here. He appeared on foot and collapsed around about here.’ She moved her finger a fraction to indicate a point only a few metres from the place where she claimed to have parked. ‘Of course, I can only say roughly. I can’t remember exactly which space I parked in or where he collapsed. But I’d only taken a couple of steps from the car when I spotted him.’ She raised her eyes to Huldar, waiting for his reaction.

  To up the tension, he pretended to consider this, though he didn’t need to. The place Ásta had indicated didn’t fit at all with the route Mördur would have taken if he’d been heading straight from his car on Fjölnisvegur to A&E. ‘When you first noticed him, was he clutching his chest or showing any other signs of distress?’

  Ásta appeared to give this some thought but again Huldar suspected that she was merely trying to work out which answer would serve to shut him up and convince him that she’d been drawn into the matter by pure chance. ‘Er … I can’t remember exactly. It was dark, of course. I think he was looking a bit strange, but he just sort of crumpled up almost as soon as I caught sight of him so I didn’t have a chance to observe him any more closely.’

  ‘I see.’ Though actually he didn’t: there was no rational explanation for what the man had been doing there, unless he had come to find Ásta. ‘Had you maybe agreed to meet there? Did you know him?’

  ‘No, he was a total stranger. It was a complete coincidence. I certainly didn’t have some secret assignation with him, if that’s what you’re insinuating. If I had, why on earth would I have arranged to meet him in the car park right outside my workplace?’

  ‘We’re trying to find a plausible explanation. The man’s linked to the murders. You save his life. By complete chance the phone belonging to one of his victims finds its way into your letterbox. You have to admit it looks suspicious.’

  ‘I’m a nurse. I know nothing about solving crimes. I thought that was your job.’

  Huldar ignored this, asking instead: ‘Is it possible to induce a heart attack?’

  ‘Induce a heart attack?’ Her face expressed astonished incomprehension. Then it hardened and Ásta clenched her jaw for a moment before continuing. ‘Are you implying that that’s what I did?’

  ‘I’m just asking. Is it possible or not?’

  ‘I’m sure it is. The method would depend on whether the person in question had a predisposition. I haven’t a clue how you’d do it to a healthy individual but it wouldn’t necessarily take much if the person had arteriosclerosis or coronary heart disease. The first thing that springs to mind is epinephrine, which is given to patients suffering from anaphylactic shock. It might cause a heart attack in an individual who’s at risk. But you must be insane if you think I’d do something like that.’

  Gudlaugur, who’d been running his finger through the glitter on the table, paused and looked up for the first time since they’d sat down. ‘Was a blood sample taken when he was admitted?’

  Ásta stared at him in surprise, as if only now noticing him. ‘Yes. Of course.’

  ‘Did they test it for epinephrine or any other substances?’

  ‘No. They wouldn’t have screened for that, at least not under normal circumstances. Possibly for other substances, if the patient had been suspected of taking something, but as far as I know, that wasn’t the case in this instance. But I went home so I don’t know exactly what they did or what tests they requested. You’ll have to speak to the staff in A&E.’ She looked from Gudlaugur back to Huldar. ‘I didn’t induce his heart attack.’

  Huldar didn’t react and Gudlaugur turned his attention back to the table.

  ‘Could you – or anyone else – have disconnected Mördur from his monitors and claimed that he was going for tests or something?’

  ‘Why would anyone have done that?’ Without warning, Ásta stepped across the kitchen and put her ear to the door. Then she turned back to Huldar, clearly relieved that she had imagined whatever she thought she had heard. ‘And, before you ask, no, I didn’t do anything like that. Mördur was lying in his bed the entire time, apart from when he was sent for tests. Neither I nor anyone else falsified the requests.’

  ‘But if somebody had, Mördur would have been free to go wherever he liked instead of undergoing tests somewhere on the premises. Wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, theoretically. But he wouldn’t have made it far. If you don’t believe me, ask anyone on the ward. Talk to his doctor. Or do you think the entire hospital staff is involved in a conspiracy?’


  Huldar continued his policy of ignoring her questions. ‘We’re examining his phone and assume that’ll clarify things. Did he have access to it and, if so, did he use it?’

  ‘I wasn’t on duty the whole time and even when I was, I had other patients to attend to. But I think I remember seeing the phone on his table a couple of times and at least once – maybe twice – in his hand. Though most of the time he was asleep or out of it.’

  ‘But he had it with him and could theoretically make calls. What about internet access?’

  ‘The hospital has wifi that anyone can use. And there’s a 3G connection too. So he could have gone online if he wanted.’

  ‘What about his car key and house keys? Both were among his belongings. Could anyone have got hold of them or were they kept in a locker?’

  ‘Anyone could have got hold of them. The patients have cupboards in their rooms for personal items, like clothes, but no one goes poking around in them.’

  ‘Did he have a room to himself?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So it would have been easy for someone to get into his cupboard while he was asleep, if they wanted to?’

  ‘Yes. But no one would have. What kind of questions are these?’ Ásta’s indignation appeared to be genuine. ‘I suppose next you’ll start accusing us of stealing the rings off the fingers of dead patients?’

  ‘No.’ Huldar persisted: ‘Did you know he had a daughter who’s in a bad way after a suicide attempt?’

  ‘All I knew was that he was a widower. We have more than enough to do without speculating about our patients’ private lives.’ Ásta spoke quickly, darting a sideways glance at the clock on the wall above Huldar’s head. ‘Are you nearly finished?’