Someone to Watch Over Me tg-5 Page 23

  ‘Surely you can speak on the phone if you ask the staff to call for you, and if the call is supervised.’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ve never tried it. Haven’t ever needed to call anyone before.’

  ‘Look into it next time if you need to get in touch. This is a long drive out of town for me, and my time is better spent working on the case itself. Unless you wanted to ask me something specific, or tell me something? I totally understand if you want to keep track of the hours that are going into this or if you want to rethink your position regarding the investigation. That’s not unusual when people realize how quickly it can start getting expensive.’

  ‘No, that’s not it at all. I was just worried that you haven’t come back to speak to Jakob and I wanted to know whether it was because you were stuck.’

  ‘Things are coming along, as I say.’ The room suddenly felt unbearably hot. ‘I’ll speak to Jakob when I have a particular reason to, since there’s no point confusing him with multiple visits. He has difficulty discussing what happened, naturally, and I’d prefer not to wear him out or mix up his ideas about what happened with endless questions.’

  ‘So, this is a long way for you. It would be better if we were located in Reykjavík.’ Jósteinn fell silent, looked up abruptly and then immediately back down into his lap. ‘Don’t you think so?’

  ‘Yes, probably. But there’s not much we can do about that.’ Thóra decided to try to make good use of this trip by getting Jósteinn to say something about his acquaintance with Ari, who was one of the few people who could have sent the photo to her phone, though he was just as unlikely to have done so as the others who had access to it. ‘Your legal supervisor was Ari Gunnarsson, the same man who defended Jakob. Is this a coincidence, or did it affect your decision to fund a potential reopening of the case? Do you have something against him, perhaps, and are you looking for revenge?’

  Jósteinn shook his head, but Thóra thought she saw him redden a bit, even though his head was bowed. ‘No.’

  ‘So this is simply a coincidence?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Thóra didn’t need a lie detector to work out that Jósteinn was hiding something, but she couldn’t fathom how best to get the truth out of this strange man. She suspected coming down hard on him wouldn’t achieve much. ‘Did he do a good job with your case?’

  ‘How would I know? I don’t know how others would have done. I probably would have ended up here even if I’d hired every lawyer in the country. If you’re sick, you’re sick. You can’t treat a damaged mind like broken bones. It might be possible if the brain were brittle, not soft. Repairs are always much more complex when you can’t screw or hammer things together.’

  ‘Yes, that’s… a shame.’ Thóra was keen not to stray any further into this topic. ‘But you must have had a sense of whether he was working on your case wholeheartedly. Did he come to see you? Or did you never meet him?’

  ‘We met several times during the preparations for the trial. I suppose he could have shown a little more interest, but he wouldn’t be the first or the last person to find it difficult to stay focused in my presence. People don’t understand me, but I understand them. Do you know what I mean?’

  ‘No, I can’t say I do.’ Thóra took a deep breath before continuing. ‘Did you ever meet Ari in connection with Jakob’s case? Did he ever come here?’

  ‘Yes, I saw him after Jakob was moved here. He still recognized me, even after all that time.’

  Thóra didn’t find that strange; she would be hard pressed to forget this man. ‘But if you think that Ari botched Jakob’s case in some way, and especially if you’re sure he did, you should come out and say so immediately. I’m sure I’d discover it for myself in the end, but it would be less expensive for you to tell me straight away.’

  ‘I’ll never have the chance to spend all of my money, so a few hours more or less don’t matter. Maybe I like watching you scurry around.’ He didn’t smile or alter his tone, so she couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny. ‘But I can tell you that Ari puts just enough effort into his work to make it impossible to criticize. It’s a talent some people have; you know they should be trying harder, but you can’t put your finger on anything in particular. For example, one of the cleaners here. She makes the beds but the sheet isn’t stretched well enough over the mattress, but it’s not so baggy that anyone would think to say anything about it.’ Jósteinn lifted his head slightly and stared at the embroidered cushion next to Thóra. He looked pale and didn’t seem aware of the heat in the room. ‘Anyone but me, that is. And why would they pay me any mind?’

  Again Thóra chose to ignore the man’s complaints and forged on. ‘So you don’t know for certain that Ari mishandled Jakob’s case somehow?’

  ‘Actually, I do.’ Jósteinn didn’t look up, his gaze locked on the cross-stitching on the flowery cushion.

  ‘And would you consider sharing what you know with me?’ Thóra tried to hide her impatience, but was almost ready to shake the information out of the man – once she’d put on some rubber gloves.

  ‘I know that he didn’t do his job properly, and I can prove it.’ Jósteinn’s expression became almost cheerful. ‘He’s related to one of the victims, and I bet he didn’t tell anyone.’

  ‘How do you know, if he kept it to himself?’

  ‘Before I got into doing computer repairs I studied genealogy. I was looking through my own lineage for ancestors with whom I had things in common. I have distant connections to the family of my victim. When you have enough time to spend on your hobbies, you can make decent progress with them. When I’d run out of names to look up, I started on people I knew, and one day I searched for Ari’s family. When Jakob came here and I heard about his case, I recognized the name of one of the victims. After reviewing my records I saw that the father of one of the young men who burned to death was related to Ari. It seemed rather odd, considering Ari had chosen to defend the guy accused of the murders. I found it intriguing. It’s how I became interested in Jakob, actually.’

  Thóra frowned. ‘I learned in school that if you go back far enough almost all Icelanders are related somehow. What was the link between these two?’

  ‘Ari and the father of the boy who died are first cousins. That’s rather closer than usual. You and I, for example, are related seven generations back.’

  Thóra was repulsed at the thought that the man had been looking her up in search of some kind of family connection. She hoped his information was out of date, and he didn’t know about Gylfi and Sóley, or Orri. The thought that he’d so much as seen their names in print was unbearable. ‘First cousins?’ If this were true – and considering Jósteinn had a few screws loose, Thóra found it impossible to judge – it was most irregular. In fact, it was downright immoral.

  ‘He hasn’t really fulfilled his brief as Jakob’s lawyer, has he?’

  Thóra didn’t reply, though she privately agreed. ‘Which young man was it?’

  ‘Tryggvi Einvarðsson. The son of Einvarður Tryggvason and grandson of Tryggvi Helgason; who is the brother of Gunnar Helgason, Ari’s father. So you see, Ari and Einvarður are first cousins. If you want, I can go back and link their lineages to me. I’ve got a great memory.’

  ‘No, thanks. That’s plenty.’

  On the way out Thóra spotted Jakob. His back was turned to her as he bent over a sink in a kitchen that seemed rather small given the number of people living there, washing up with gusto. ‘Hello, Jakob.’ He turned around at her greeting, displaying a giant white apron with large wet patches. ‘How are you?’

  Jakob looked at her and appeared not to realize who she was. Then a light clicked on and he beamed at her guilelessly. ‘Have you come to get me? Can I go home to Mummy?’

  ‘No, Jakob. Not yet, I’m afraid. I’m working on it, and I’ll do everything I can to make that happen. Until then, you’ve got to be brave.’ His smile faded and was replaced by a frown.

  ‘I’m very brave but I still want to go home.
’

  ‘I know. Hopefully you can, but not today.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ He cheered up again, and Thóra realized that she would have to choose her words more carefully, so as not to raise his hopes too much.

  ‘No, not tomorrow, Jakob. Have you thought some more about the night we talked about when I came here the other day? Tried to remember it better?’

  Jakob shook his head. ‘I don’t want to think about it. I just feel bad if I do.’

  Thóra nodded. ‘Tell me one thing – have you heard of a short hose? Something to do with the apartment that Natan lived in? Number 2?’ Jakob stared at her blankly and shook his head. ‘Okay, never mind. But you can probably tell me something else; what was the name of the girl who lived in the apartment at the end of the corridor? Do you remember?’

  Jakob adopted a look of exaggerated bewilderment, squinting and frowning at the same time. ‘No. I don’t remember.’

  ‘Try to think back a bit; she was always in bed and didn’t speak.’

  ‘I never talked to her. She always just stared at me. It made me feel uncomfortable.’ He leaned forward a bit, his expression conspiratorial. ‘I think she was called Ragga but I don’t really know. She never did anything with us.’

  ‘Ragga?’ This could be short for Ragnhild, Ragnheiður or various other names. ‘Do you know whose daughter she was?’

  ‘No. Her mother and father had moved away. They never came. Maybe she wasn’t anyone’s daughter and was just called Ragga.’

  Thóra smiled. ‘Maybe. Now, since I know you’re so brave, I’m going to ask you something different, and that’s how Ari, your lawyer, treated you. I know that you found him boring, but did he treat you badly? Was he ever mean, or angry?’

  ‘He was strange. He was never happy and he always wanted to talk about boring things. He was boring.’

  ‘But mean? Did you find him mean?’

  ‘Yes, he’s very mean. He… he kicks animals.’ Jakob didn’t meet her eye as he spoke and Thóra was fairly certain he had said it to try to please her. No matter what one might say about Ari and the bizarre situation he’d put himself in, she doubted he went around kicking animals in front of his clients.

  ‘Let’s just talk about what we know or have seen, and not what we think. Okay?’ Jakob nodded sheepishly. ‘Now, I know that you bit his arm, didn’t you?’

  ‘He was mean.’

  ‘Maybe, but why did you bite him? Maybe he’s mean but he must have said something that made you especially angry, mustn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And what was that, Jakob? It would be really great if you could tell me about it.’

  Jakob’s tongue stuck out even further than usual and he licked his lips. ‘He was mean; he said that I was lying to him and also that I was lying to the police. He said that he would have me put in prison if I didn’t say that I started the fire and that I would never get to see Mummy. Never.’

  Jakob’s cheeks had turned red, so distressed was he by the memory. Thóra decided not to upset him any further, since it was quite clear what had happened. That bastard Ari had put the thumbscrews on Jakob and tried to get him to confess to the crime, which he obviously thought his client had committed. This was clearly unacceptable behaviour, but it would be impossible to prove. No matter that Thóra didn’t doubt for a second that Jakob was telling the truth. She was filled with an even greater desire to secure his freedom. One of the things that had weighed most heavily against him was that he had confessed, withdrawn his confession, confessed again and then contradicted himself in his testimony. Perhaps this had been partly due to Ari’s interference. How could Jakob have got so unlucky with his lawyer? ‘We shouldn’t talk about Ari any more. Let’s talk about Friðleifur instead; do you remember him? He was an employee at the centre, and he worked a lot at night and early in the morning?’ Jakob nodded again, but now he seemed wary. ‘Was he nice, did he do his job well?’

  ‘He was fun. He was funny.’ Jakob smiled at some amusing memory that the night watchman’s name seemed to have evoked.

  ‘Did he sometimes have visitors at work? Did his friends come to see him?’

  ‘Sometimes.’ Jakob clamped his mouth shut again.

  ‘How did they behave? Did they sometimes argue with Friðleifur?’ Jakob shook his head, surprised. ‘So they were just calm – they didn’t speak loudly or angrily or anything like that?’

  ‘No.’ Jakob looked puzzled and his eyes flicked around the room. Then he came closer to her, first appearing to peer past her and check whether anyone could overhear them. ‘Can you keep a secret?’

  ‘I’m really good at it.’ Jakob bent to her and whispered.

  ‘Friðleifur’s friends came to visit to breathe. He told me that but he asked me not to tell anyone. Never. So you can’t tell anyone, okay?’

  ‘No, I won’t tell, Jakob. But sometimes secrets stop being secret when the person who told them to you is dead. Not always, but sometimes.’

  Jakob seemed uneasy with these new rules about something he’d obviously thought he clearly understood. ‘You promised not to tell anyone. You promised.’ He became more agitated with every word and Thóra remembered the stories of this small but sturdy man’s violent tendencies.

  ‘And I won’t. I do promise.’ She smiled, hoping to calm him down. Then, calling forth all the acting skills she possessed to seem conspiratorial enough, she whispered, ‘Were they breathing smoke? From a pipe?’ The best she could think of was that Jakob had come across the night watchman and his friends smoking hash and Friðleifur had tried to convince him of some nonsense about secret breathing.

  Jakob’s anger dissipated, and instead he looked shocked. ‘No. They just came to breathe. Not with smoke; they wanted good breathing.’

  ‘Okay.’ Thóra patted Jakob on the shoulder. An angel with a suitcase and good breathing. Clearly the boy was a mine of useful information.

  CHAPTER 20

  Friday, 15 January 2010

  There was nothing to worry about in the middle of the day, even one as grey and gloomy as this. Margeir inhaled the cool, humid air, filling his chest. A sense of well-being he hadn’t felt in months washed over him and he shut his eyes. Maybe today would be a turning point in his life; a new start to a new life under new and more enjoyable circumstances. It was up to him to deal with much of what had tormented him lately and he had to stop beating himself up all the time. A bank of storm clouds filled the sky and a gusty wind blew snow from the handrail; winter wasn’t going to relent until it had given its all. He brushed the snow off himself irritably. His coat rustled and the noise made him realize how quiet it was outside. There was no murmur of traffic, no whisper from the bare branches of the aspen; Margeir stared, captivated, at them, feeling as if he were watching a silent movie on television.

  A muffled ringing came from his coat pocket, startling him. It was as if his hearing was suddenly jump-started; the wind whistling in the trees came through loud and clear, backed by the distant rumble of traffic. He recognized the radio station’s number and despite his best-laid plans not to let the anonymous lunatic trouble him, he felt enormously relieved. The man had probably stopped calling, even though Margeir was still being bombarded with text messages that were bound to be from the same person. Margeir hadn’t heard this coward’s voice since looking up the address that had appeared in one of the messages. He suspected the weirdo lived there. Either the idiot regretted what he’d done after being found out, or he’d got bored of tormenting Margeir and had turned to someone else. Maybe it was the initial response that gave this guy his biggest kicks and it got boring to keep receiving ‘Who is this?’ ‘Leave me alone!’ and things like that in reply. Maybe the pervert had wanted to pester a girl, where he would doubtless get a more satisfying reaction. It was over. It must be over. It had to be over.

  Margeir answered the phone cheerfully, certain that he was about to get some positive news; it wasn’t often that work contacted him. But the weary voice of the stat
ion manager crushed his hopes. Advertising revenue was slow and the number of sponsors was decreasing steadily, so he wanted Margeir to find some legal party to sponsor his show in return for advertisements and good publicity from the station. He added that Margeir should think about it carefully, since his job depended on it; he shouldn’t rule out any potential sponsors. Everyone was in need of publicity these days; times were hard and every customer and every penny was fought for. Nowhere could you find cheaper advertising that gave as much return, and the station’s listenership was constantly growing. His sales pitch was so convincing that Margeir was almost starting to consider advertising himself when the man said abruptly, ‘You can do it, right? Otherwise I’ll have to hire someone who can find his own sponsors. Times are tough, you know,’ he continued, when Margeir didn’t answer straight away.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ was all he could think of to say. ‘Bye.’ He hung up and exhaled slowly. The wind had changed; Margeir gasped when it proved to be colder than his lungs had anticipated. He cursed his complacency. How did unemployment payments work? He had no idea. He vaguely remembered his mother nagging him to sign on when he’d lost his job just over a year before, but he’d completely forgotten where to go and what to do. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to bringing it up again, because he’d kind of implied that he’d already done it ages ago. He wouldn’t be able to convincingly explain to her why he’d been so unmotivated, and he suspected he’d get only limited sympathy from her about it, even though she always took his side.

  He fully expected his right to full benefits to have expired after all this time, but surely he was entitled to something. The government could hardly expect him to go begging on the streets, could they? Wasn’t that against the law, too? He couldn’t afford to lose any more income, and the money he’d saved up by doing two jobs at the same time was long gone. Plus he could hardly cut back any further on household expenses. The apartment was owned by his grandfather, so he’d never find lower rent anywhere else. He’d stopped making calls from his mobile phone and had cancelled his accounts for his landline and Internet, along with everything else that cost money and wasn’t considered a necessity. His car was the only thing he was holding onto; no one would buy that piece of junk anyway, and it was good to have it for emergencies, even though the petrol tank leaked and he had to keep a can in the boot just to be on the safe side. He denied himself every other luxury and it was hard to think of further ways to reduce his expenses. He spent his money on little other than housing and food, and when you only ate noodles it was impossible to make cutbacks in that area. Pizza was a luxury he sometimes thought about but never allowed himself. The only proper meals he had were at his mother’s, usually on Sundays. She earned a huge number of brownie points from her son for not mentioning his ravenous appetite and the quantity of food he devoured. Once she had asked him if he was still growing even in adulthood, but otherwise she acted as if she didn’t notice anything unusual and simply started preparing bigger meals so that he could take the leftovers home with him. No, it wasn’t like the good old days when he’d had enough in his wallet. Of course there hadn’t been much left at the end of every month but he didn’t recall ever having lacked anything. He hadn’t had a clue about the hard times that awaited him.