A Place To Bury Strangers, page 8
The elderly man tightened his dressing gown around his waist and smiled warmly. His blue eyes lit up as he realised that Gylfi wasn’t going to be intimidated. He took a step back into the house and let Gylfi in.
‘Come in young man. It’s far too cold a night to be arguing out in the open like this. If we’re going to do this then we may as well do it indoors. It’s freezing out and I can see you’re upset.’
Gylfi followed him into the tastefully decorated hallway and through to the kitchen where he found a woman in the process of making coffee.
‘I’m Jón Páll and this is my wife, Lára. Please take a seat.’
Gylfi sat himself down at the table and watched Lára pour them a cup of coffee each before silently leaving the room. Jón Páll took a seat at the other end of the table and took a sip of his coffee. Gylfi couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. Jón Páll’s demeanour had changed dramatically since they’d come indoors. The antagonism had left him and he seemed quite happy to talk now.
‘I know what you’re thinking and you’d be quite right. I wasn’t being entirely honest with you,’ Jón Páll said.
‘I thought as much. Are you going to tell me what the hell’s going on?’
‘Your friend was here just before you arrived but I’m afraid she’s run off.’
That was a phrase Gylfi had definitely had enough of. Who the hell just runs off in the middle of the night if there’s nothing wrong?
‘What do you mean she just ran off? Where exactly is she going to run to all the way out here?’
‘The young lady in question is rather headstrong as you are probably aware and I’m not sure she listened to a single thing I said to her. I’m sure that if you were to set off after her now you’d find her in no time whatsoever. She couldn’t have got very far. She didn’t even have any shoes on and like you say, there’s not really anywhere for her to go.’
Gylfi shook his head. He’d had enough. Hooking up with Svandís had been a mistake. His friends had warned him that she’d be nothing but trouble and they’d been right. It had taken him a ridiculous amount of time to see the light but now he was being blinded by it.
‘I don’t believe you,’ Gylfi said. ‘What is it you’re not telling me?’
Jón Páll’s words had made perfect sense but there was something not quite right about the story both he and Guðmundur had told him. Neither of them seemed surprised enough by what was by anybody’s reckoning some pretty strange behaviour. He was used to Svandís’s antics but neither of these guys knew her well enough to take it all in their stride the way they were.
‘A girl comes knocking on your door in the middle of the night and you just let her run off without any shoes knowing she has nowhere to go. Not only that but you don’t seem particularly surprised by any of this and that’s what really concerns me. You’re just a bit too cool, calm and collected for my liking. I’m going to go look for her now but if I don’t find her I’m coming back here to find out exactly what it is you’re trying to hide.’
Without touching his coffee Gylfi stood up and made his way back to the front door. He didn’t have a clue where to start looking but he had to make an effort. When he stepped outside into the cold air again he could tell that the weather was changing for the worse. It had started to rain and the wind was picking up. They were right on the shoreline and the gusts were not just freezing cold but getting stronger as well. He wished now that he’d brought a jacket with him but he hadn’t planned on charging around Borgarnes in the middle of the night when they’d set out from home. As he pulled the door closed behind him and stepped out into the dark void just beyond Jón Páll’s security lights he heard the unmistakeable sound of a phone ringing from inside the house. He looked at his own phone to see what the time was. It was quarter to six in the morning. It seemed like a very odd time for someone to be getting a phone call.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Saturday 7th February
Ævar made his way back to the station and found Knut in his cell trying to get some rest. He was roused from his attempt to relax and taken back to the same interview room as earlier. Nína was long gone having fulfilled her duties for the day. She had other pressing matters to attend to now that she had got to grips with what was required to represent her latest client. The big Norwegian was starting to look a little frazzled around the edges for the first time since his arrest. The endless hours of sitting around answering questions and staring at the ceiling of his cell had to take its toll eventually. The exterior of the guy was as cool, calm and casual as anyone Ævar had ever seen in an interview but they all had their weaknesses. As Grímur sat down and got himself organised Knut tried his best to lean back in his chair and relax but he looked tired. He folded his arms and tried a smile but it didn’t quite work out so he gave up on the idea.
‘How’s your friend?’ Knut asked as he yawned.
‘He’s still unconscious. There’s no real news just as yet. Your bullet did a lot of damage.’
‘He’s lucky to be alive then,’ Knut said.
‘He is lucky to be alive and let’s hope for all our sakes that he stays that way and that he’s back with us sooner rather than later.’
‘My sentiments exactly,’ Knut said. ‘I bet the guy’s going to have a really good story to tell us when he wakes up.’
This time his smile was real and he’d regained his air of self-confidence. The look in his eyes was defiant but not in the slightest bit angry.
‘You’re one cool customer aren’t you, Knut?’ Ævar asked. ‘Nothing phases you. Things just don’t get to you the way they do to normal people.’
‘Here’s how I see it,’ Knut said. ‘You’ve got one body in the morgue looking like a piece of burnt French toast and one of your officers in the hospital fighting for his life. The guy in the morgue is some bum-fuck nobody that no one, and I mean no one, is ever going to miss and your officer can’t tell you anything because he’s in a coma for the foreseeable future. When he comes to, depending on what his story is, he’ll either be a national hero or you’ll want to throw him out on his arse. But until that day comes you have no idea what happened to him. None. Not a clue. Meanwhile the list of people who might have enjoyed killing the pissy little drug dealer is so long you’d need until next year to tick all the names off it but nonetheless you’d like to pin his murder on me because that way you’ll look like you’re doing your job. Just thinking out loud here.’
He took a moment to flash his teeth across the table and stretch some of the tiredness out of his arms while Ævar scratched his chin and collected his thoughts.
‘You do know that as soon as Grímur’s conscious again the two of us are going to wipe that ridiculous smile off your face.’
‘Yeah but thing is that even if he does wake up again he could quite easily wind up being the biggest vegetable in the Reykjavík police force even though from what I’ve seen so far he’s going to have some fairly stiff competition. There are no guarantees in this life. If you’re depending on him to convict me I think you’re making a mistake.’
Ævar breathed in deeply through his nose and exhaled as calmly as he could.
‘Jeg har funnet stedet hvor du begraver fremmede.’ Ævar said in the best Norwegian accent he could muster. ‘The message was obviously for someone in particular. Maybe you’d like to tell me exactly who it was for.’
Ævar’s pronunciation got a big smile from Knut. He wouldn’t admit it but his eagerness to leave a calling card at the scene of Óli Þór’s murder had been his only real slip-up. His ego had got the better of him. Sometimes he just couldn’t help himself. Other than that he had remained sufficiently under the radar to be able to go about his business unnoticed and he had so very, very nearly made his flight back to Oslo. He shrugged his shoulders at Ævar.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Yeah, you keep saying that but when I tell the prosecutors that you were the one who left that message they’re going to want to keep you here until Grímur wakes up. Whether that’s one week or one year it’s not going to matter to them because it’s a murder charge and it’s a police officer. And seeing as you’re the only Norwegian lunatic we have in town at the moment I don’t think it’s going to take too much to convince them that you’re our guy on this one.’
He took a moment to let what he had said sink in and then continued.
‘You’re right in one respect, that at the moment I don’t have the necessary evidence to take you to trial but that is only at this moment in time. Give me a while and I will. No doubt about it. I have forensics guys all over that construction site and in your hotel room and your luggage. If you were there then they’re going to find something. We have shell casings from the gun that was used to shoot Grímur. We don’t have the gun yet but when we find it we will trace it to whoever fired it and if that was you then you’re going to be stuck here until you’re an old man.’
It was Ævar’s turn to look smug. But not for long.
‘I’m looking forward to that poor bastard coming out of his coma because he’s going to tell you that the whole time he’s been unconscious the guy who shot him has been running around loose out there and you’ll be out of a job so fast it’ll make your head spin.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Six years earlier
Halima Wangai cursed out loud and tossed the crumpled-up piece of paper across the dusty potholed street into the gutter on the other side. Just one more bill she was never going to be able to pay and one more step towards having nowhere to live and nothing to eat. If something didn’t change soon she and her three daughters would be out on the street with the ever-growing pile of black trash bags that no one was ever going to collect. They would become four more faces staring out at the world for help with no one caring who they were or what would become of them. She was desperate and getting more desperate by the hour. She had tried hard for the last few months to put on a brave face and forget about their worries and that was probably part of the reason why they now found themselves in the situation they were in. It wouldn’t be long before the kids got home and she would have to sit them down and be honest about just how far she had let things wander beyond her control.
She wanted to cry but there was no time for that luxury. She was going to have to be strong. There was no room in her life for needless emotion nor shedding of tears. There would be time for that when she had gone away. Then the girls would be on their own and she would have a real reason to cry. Nyo, Msia and Issa were going to have to grow up fast now. In less than an hour their little faces would be sitting around the kitchen table as she tried to explain to them what had become of the money their father had sent them. That had been four months ago now and she was amazed that what he’d sent had lasted that long. He hadn’t been seen or heard from since and it was probably safe to assume now that they wouldn’t be hearing from him again any time soon. His guilty conscience had been assuaged for the time being and that was probably good enough for him.
He had left to look for work in Nigeria just over six months ago lured by the scent of the big pay cheques on offer from the companies running the oil wells there. Halima had asked him not to go, begged him in fact, but she knew even as she was doing so that she was wasting her breath. What she was afraid of was that it wasn’t the prospect of a job that had Muhammed all fired-up to head across the continent but rather that it was just an excuse to get away from her and the kids. So when first the phone calls and then the money had dried up she knew she wouldn’t be seeing him again. It had been all too well planned. He had known what he was doing all along and never intended setting foot in Nairobi ever again. She had outlived her usefulness to him and now she and the kids were on their own. And this time it would be for good. Now she was the one who was going to have to look elsewhere for work and it was going to have to be a lot further afield than the other side of Africa.
When the girls got home they could sense straight away that something was wrong. Their mother wasn’t her usual self all smiling and happy to see them. She looked sad and serious as if someone she knew had died. When they asked her what was wrong she told them to sit down and be quiet. She had something to tell them and she didn’t want them interrupting her with their girlish chatter and foolish questions. The three girls looked at each other in turn and then dutifully took their seats around the table keeping their mouths shut just as they had been told. It was painfully obvious that their mother wasn’t in any mood for their jokes and jibes. When Halima was satisfied that the girls were going to remain quiet and pay attention she started the speech she had been rehearsing in her head all day long.
‘Girls, I’ve been trying to keep this from you for a while now but the time has come. We have a serious problem and we need to talk about it. I never wanted to have to admit this to you but I can’t afford to look after us any more. The money your father sent us is gone and I’m going to have to go away to earn us some more so you’re going to have to go live with your grandmother for a while.’
‘Grandma,’ the three girls said almost in unison.
Nyo, Msia and Issa realised they had opened their mouths and all raised their hands to their lips. Halima smiled at them proud that she had raised such obedient children and now even more sad that she was going to have to leave them in order to look after them. It seemed such a terrible solution yet she knew it was the only way.
‘What about Dad?’ Nyo asked.
Halima sighed deeply and scratched the side of her head.
‘Your father is not coming back, girls. I hate to tell you this but I haven’t heard from him for a lot longer than I’ve been letting on and I don’t even know how to get hold of him any more. He’s gone and left us and it’s high time we got used to the idea.’
The three girls looked at each other in dismay. This really was news to them. Their mother had been so busy putting on a brave face that she had convinced them that he was still in touch on a regular basis, still sending money home and still fully intending to return to Kenya when none of those things could have been further from the truth. She had lied to them in order to protect them but the plan had backfired horribly. The expressions on their faces told her in no uncertain terms that she had made a serious miscalculation. Instead of keeping them safe from harm as she’d hoped she’d let them think everything was normal and that they would be seeing their father again just as soon as he’d finished his contract in Nigeria.
‘I’ve got more bad news too I’m afraid,’ she continued, ignoring their pleading looks and concerned expressions.
Issa started crying and was reprimanded by her elder sisters for interrupting their mother.
‘I’m going to have to move away to find a job too. There’s nothing for me here and your grandmother will need money to look after you too.’
She looked at their sad little faces one by one and tried to put on a brave face herself but it was killing her to have to say these things. Even though it had been her who had been let down and lied to she still felt like the one who had failed them and the only way she could think of to put things right again was to go away and leave her children.
‘I’m not going to be away for long,’ she lied and it was as she spoke this untruth that she could finally feel the tears welling up in her eyes for the first time as the enormity of the journey she was about to undertake hit home.
‘How long’s not long?’ Msia asked timidly as if she didn’t really want to hear the answer.
Halima closed her eyes and hung her head slightly unable to decide whether to lie to them further or tell her children the cold hard truth that she had absolutely no idea how long exactly not long was going to be. All she really knew was that it was going to be a lot longer than they thought it would be. To them a weekend away would feel like forever.
‘Your grandmother is really looking forward to seeing you all again,’ she began but when she looked up she could see the fear in her daughters’ eyes.
They knew what a non-answer meant just as clearly as if she had told them she would never be seeing them again. She couldn’t possibly know what the future held. She couldn’t know where she was going to end up and there was no way whatsoever she could anticipate a return date or even know if one existed.
‘How did this happen?’ Nyo asked and then started crying.
Msia and Issa looked at their mother waiting for an answer but she didn’t have one for them. She had asked herself the same question over and over again and was still no closer to knowing how or why she had simply sat back and hoped that this wouldn’t come to pass.
‘I held on to hope too long girls. Sometimes it can be a dangerous thing. I should have realised a lot sooner what kind of a man your father really was but I didn’t want to admit that I had made a big mistake by trusting him. My pride got in the way. Now I can’t look after my own children and I’m more ashamed than I’ve ever been in my life and worried that if I don’t do something now things will get even worse.’
Halima took her daughters in her arms one by one and whispered apologies in their ears just loud enough that they could hear and no louder. She felt as if someone was watching her from above and that she had failed whoever that was too. She had failed them all and she was going to have to carry that around with her for the rest of her life.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Tuesday 3rd February
Although Gylfi had spent the last forty-five minutes going over the story of Svandís’s disappearance with the detective again and again he wasn’t at all convinced he was being taken seriously yet. The guy seemed grumpy and unhelpful and even though he claimed to know Svandís personally he didn’t really seem to care one way or the other that she was missing. He had in fact suggested several times that she would probably show up of her own accord at some point like she was a family pet that had run away from home and would be back when she got hungry or cold. Grímur had filled out the missing person’s report but didn’t seem at all enthusiastic about doing anything else to actually help find her. He had nasty-looking scratch marks down one side of his face that he didn’t want to talk about and he wouldn’t answer any of Gylfi’s other questions with anything more than a cursory shrug of the shoulders and some form of monosyllabic response. In short, he wasn’t being as helpful as Gylfi had hoped. It was no secret that he had as much trouble dealing with Svandís as anybody else but he couldn’t imagine his sad little life without her in it.
