The Reckoning: Children's House Book 2 (Freyja and Huldar) Read online

  Chapter 25

  It wasn’t the first time Huldar had woken up in these circumstances. Yet he was as helpless as ever, too hung-over to think of any plan to take the edge off the inevitable embarrassment. Instead, here he was, lying naked in a strange bed, with no idea what to do next, only that it would be excruciating. He had stirred earlier, disturbed by the ringing of his phone, but, unable to face the new day, had gone back to sleep. Now he was awake. Not in the best of shape – but awake.

  Huldar cracked open one eye and surveyed his surroundings. He was alone in bed. That was good, but it meant he had no idea who he had shared it with last night. He wasn’t particularly keen to remember the identity of his bedmate either. He wanted to enjoy his amnesia a little longer. But then he spotted a shirt on the back of a chair. It looked as if it had been flung there from the other side of the room. The shirt was familiar, so familiar that he couldn’t suppress a deep sigh. It was a regulation police shirt, much smaller than his own, with shorter sleeves and a narrower cut. Huldar closed his eyes as memories of the previous evening came flooding back.

  Erla.

  He had beaten his own record in ill-advised shagging. He had only gone and slept with his boss. Her duvet was rucked up at the bottom of the bed, her pillow under his arm. Shoving it away, he tried but failed to roll over onto his back. He would be able to in a moment, but for now he would be glad if he could just pull the duvet up over his bare body. Although he was alone in the room, Erla couldn’t be far away and might appear any minute. It was sheer wishful thinking to hope that she might have gone outside and be sitting in her car, full of regrets, waiting for him to take himself off.

  He thought he could hear the distant sound of a shower. All his instincts screamed at him to seize the chance and make a run for it. But that would only give him a brief respite. He couldn’t avoid her forever. Huldar sighed. How the hell was he going to get out of this one? They worked together, met every morning of the week. The investigation would probably require them to work today and no doubt tomorrow as well, even though it was the weekend. So he would have no chance to recover or prepare for what was to come next. If he couldn’t face talking to her now, there would be no way out of this cock-up except to hand in his notice. What on earth had he been thinking?

  The recollection that a number of their colleagues had been drinking with them at the pub did nothing to make Huldar feel any better.

  There was a squeak and the sound of water stopped. He managed with difficulty to reach for the duvet and cover himself. It was a start. Warily he opened one eye again and the other followed suit. Then, summoning all his strength, he rolled over. Though his stomach seemed to have been left behind and his head was about to burst, he felt better. But when he surveyed the room and saw their clothes strewn all over the place and the empty wine bottle on her bedside table, he almost rolled back on his face again. Rather than give in to the urge, he concentrated on trying to locate his trousers. Of course they were as far from the bed as they could possibly be. He listened and heard footsteps in the hall. Lifting his head, he wondered if he could struggle out of bed, retrieve his trousers and pull them on before Erla appeared, but before he could come to any conclusion she was standing in the doorway.

  Erla leant against the doorframe, wrapped in a white towel that she was holding up with one arm while rubbing her wet hair with another, smaller towel. Below, her legs were studded with beads of moisture. ‘Good morning.’

  Huldar cleared his throat. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘You should jump in the shower. You’ll feel much better afterwards. And wash the smell of smoke out of your hair. It fucking stinks.’

  ‘Yes, I should do that.’ Huldar stroked his wild mane back, suddenly powerfully aware of the reek of cigarettes.

  ‘I’ll put on some coffee. Want some shit to eat?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ The way she put it killed any appetite he might have had. Though to be honest, he had to admit he had appreciated her foul mouth when they’d been in bed last night. It had really done things for him. ‘What time is it? I can’t see my phone.’

  ‘It’s in the living room. It’s eleven o’clock. Time to—’ Erla broke off mid-sentence when her own phone started ringing in the other room, so Huldar didn’t get to hear what it was time for. She spun on her heel and shortly afterwards he heard her giving terse answers, her tone serious. The sound of her voice came closer and before Huldar could grab the chance to pull on his clothes, she reappeared in the doorway, her wet hair standing on end. ‘We’ll be there – I will, I mean. Round up the others.’ She ended the call.

  ‘Something up?’

  ‘Yes, you could say that.’ Erla wasn’t any more forthcoming. Perhaps she wanted Huldar to beg but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. ‘Hurry up and jump in the shower. I’ll tell you on the way in.’

  Huldar was sitting up now and didn’t know what to do next. Erla wasn’t budging from the doorway; her legs had dried – the droplets could now be counted on one hand. ‘I’ll be quick.’ But he didn’t move, hoping she’d get the message.

  ‘You don’t seem to be in much of a hurry.’ Erla grinned. ‘You’re not shy, are you? You’re kidding me.’ Her grin widened. ‘You weren’t shy last night.’

  Huldar wasn’t used to feeling ashamed of his nakedness in front of the women he’d slept with, but then they weren’t usually his boss. ‘No, I’m not shy. Just hung-over.’ He edged to the side of the bed. Best get it over with.

  ‘Does this make it any easier?’ Grabbing her towel by the corners, she whipped it off. Her body was revealed, naked, clean and athletic, the pink nipples stiff on her small, pert breasts.

  If the intention had been to create a nudist vibe so Huldar wouldn’t be so embarrassed, it was a total failure. Now he had a more urgent problem about getting up.

  Most of the inquiry team were in bad shape. They avoided one another’s eyes, all the absurd declarations and promises of the previous evening still vivid in their memories. There had been a steady stream of people to the soda-water dispenser until it ran out and produced nothing but cold water with an oddly metallic taste.

  ‘Is it true?’ Gudlaugur stood up so he could get a good look at Huldar’s face. He was unbearably bright and perky himself since he hadn’t gone out with them the previous evening; perhaps because he’d been busy, perhaps because they’d forgotten to invite him.

  ‘What?’ Huldar continued to stare at his screen, though he had a good idea what the young man was referring to.

  ‘Erla. You know. Did you go home with her?’

  ‘No. What on earth makes you think that?’ Huldar didn’t look up. He was pleased with his ability to lie while in such a rough state. He’d almost succeeded in convincing himself that the night with Erla had never happened.

  ‘Oh … I heard the others talking about it. Then you arrived together. And you’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday – you’ve got the same coffee stain on your sleeve.’ In time Gudlaugur would make quite a decent cop. You certainly couldn’t fault his powers of observation.

  ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. I was too tired to dig out a new shirt this morning. And it was a complete coincidence that Erla and I arrived at the same time. That’s all.’ Huldar raised his eyes to Gudlaugur at last. ‘Have you got nothing to do?’

  Gudlaugur sat down again, looking abashed. He had largely kept quiet since Huldar appeared, apart from confiding in him that he was expecting to have his wrist slapped over that Father Christmas business. It had taken rather an unexpected turn. From the little Huldar had heard, this was hardly Gudlaugur’s fault. How had he been supposed to guess that the episode was linked to the murder case? The connection was still far from clear; all the police knew at present was that the children who had been abducted by a man in a Father Christmas costume had just come across two amputated feet in their father’s garden.

  Huldar had emitted an almost audible sigh of relief on learning that he didn’t have to ac
company Erla round to the children’s father’s place to view the evidence. The prospect of examining a pair of sawn-off feet lying in the white snow would have limited appeal for a policeman in full health, let alone for a man in his current state. It would also have meant being alone in the car with Erla and he had already said all he could without actually saying anything. She had made repeated attempts to steer the conversation round to their night together and the implications for their professional relationship, while he had kept pleading a splitting headache that made it almost impossible to talk. This was no exaggeration, though he was feeling a little better now after filching the last three painkillers from the office first-aid kit.

  His phone rang. Erla’s name flashed up.

  Against his will Huldar picked it up. He decided to ask if he could move desks after the weekend. He’d rather sit in the gents than here under Gudlaugur’s watchful eye. It shouldn’t be any problem to get what he wanted, now that he was in his boss’s good books. Though in reality their new intimate relationship would probably mean he wouldn’t ask for anything. Not today, not tomorrow – never. Maybe it would make more sense to request a transfer to another department. Huldar closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath while ridding his mind of these thoughts. That would have to wait. Instead he concentrated on the phone call, only too conscious that Gudlaugur could hear every word.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Listen, I’ve just sent this guy, Thorvaldur Svavarsson, over to the station. The father of the kids who found the feet. We couldn’t work with him in the way – he’s an unbelievable tosser. I want you to meet him and kick off the questioning. I should hopefully be back before you finish.’ Huldar silently hoped she wouldn’t be.

  ‘OK. Anything in particular I should bear in mind?’

  ‘Yes. The stupid prick works for the State Prosecutor’s office. Like Benedikt Toft. I don’t need to tell you how slim the chances are that that’s a coincidence. But you’ll need to handle him with kid gloves. It’s incredibly important to maintain good relations with the prosecution service.’ There was a crackling in Huldar’s ear as the wind blew into Erla’s phone. ‘Tread carefully until I get there.’ She hung up without saying goodbye, in the middle of a curse that seemed to be directed at someone in Thorvaldur’s garden.

  Huldar hurriedly looked Thorvaldur up in the police register but drew a blank. That was to be expected: members of the prosecution service didn’t usually come into contact with the police except in connection with the cases they were working on. An online search didn’t throw up much either.

  When Thorvaldur turned up a quarter of an hour later, Huldar saw that he wouldn’t need much background information after all. The man wore his identity on his sleeve: his clothes and air gave him away as that familiar type who regards himself as superior to other people. Huldar introduced himself with a smile, taking the man’s soft hand in a firm grip.

  ‘Can I offer you a coffee before we sit down?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ You’d have thought Huldar had just offered the man a drink of urine. Plainly he was accustomed to something better than the police station brew. ‘But if you have some sparkling water, that would be good.’ Or maybe he was hung-over too.

  ‘I’m sorry – it’s tap water or coffee.’

  Thorvaldur declined both and they took a seat in the small interview room. Huldar told the man that he was going to record the conversation and Thorvaldur waved his indifferent consent. ‘Let’s just get this over with. I don’t know what you think I can tell you. Those feet have nothing to do with me. You’d be better off going out and trying to track down their owner, not to mention the person who did this. You can hardly imagine I’m responsible?’ To underline the absurdity of this idea, Thorvaldur twitched his shirtsleeves to show the cuffs under his expensive jacket. He was wearing a tie but the knot was a little crooked, a sign of negligence that was almost certainly out of character.

  ‘Were you on your way to a meeting this morning? For work?’

  ‘No. Last time I looked it was Saturday. I’ve got the day off, like everyone else.’

  ‘A funeral, then? Or a concert?’

  ‘No. What kind of questions are these?’

  This wasn’t a very good beginning. Remembering his promise to Erla, Huldar abandoned the attempt to find out why the man was dressed so smartly. ‘Could you describe how your children came to find the feet? It would help if you could state their names for the record.’

  ‘Karlotta’s five and Dadi’s three, going on four. They were outside playing in the garden when they started screaming. I hurried out and saw what had set them off – there were two feet, cut off at the ankles, lying in the snow at the bottom of the garden.’ Thorvaldur broke off and closed his eyes for a moment. ‘It was extremely unpleasant.’

  ‘Had they just gone outside?’

  ‘No. They’d been playing outside for half an hour or thereabouts. Perhaps longer, but no more than an hour.’

  ‘And they didn’t notice the feet straight away?’

  ‘No. They’d been staying close to the house. They were trying to build a snowman, something they’re always trying to do but never manage. They’d used up most of the snow by the house so they went down the garden to find more. That’s when they spotted the feet, but they didn’t realise what they were. Not until they’d gone right up to them. Even then it took them a moment or two to work it out. It was the same for me. I couldn’t believe my eyes at first.’

  ‘I’m assuming you’ll have heard talk at the Prosecutor’s office about the severed hands? And the murder of Benedikt Toft?’

  ‘Yes. Both cases have been mentioned.’

  ‘Are you involved with them at all? Or hasn’t the Prosecutor’s office started preparing the case yet?’

  ‘Yes, we’ve started looking into it. But nothing’s been assigned yet. It complicates matters that Benedikt worked for us. We don’t want to be accused of a conflict of interests.’

  ‘Good. Then you can let them know first thing on Monday morning that you’re not to go anywhere near this case. You’ll probably be required to take leave until the investigation’s over.’

  Thorvaldur looked down his nose in disgust. ‘Out of the question. I’ve just told you that it’s nothing to do with me. And it’s unbelievable cheek for the police to think they can dictate to another institution.’

  Huldar maintained a carefully blank face, allowing Thorvaldur’s words to wash over him. Others would have to bring home to him the seriousness of this case. ‘Were you acquainted with Benedikt Toft?’

  ‘Of course. We worked at the same place. But he retired about three years ago and I haven’t seen him recently.’

  ‘Benedikt prosecuted in a case that we believe is the common link between all these incidents. It was fourteen years ago – a child-abuse case. The defendant was acquitted by the Reykjanes District Court and there was no appeal. Unfortunately we can’t find out much about it but we’ve sent a request to your office to hand over all the documentation.’

  ‘So? Do you imagine that I deal with that sort of thing?’

  ‘I have no idea and I really don’t care. My question is, did you assist Benedikt or work with him on the case in question?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Don’t you need to know the name of the accused before you can answer that?’

  ‘No. The name’s irrelevant. Fourteen years ago I didn’t work for the Prosecutor’s office. I’ve only been there for twelve years. Or thirteen, rather.’ The man glowed with self-satisfaction. ‘So your theory’s utter nonsense, if you can call it a theory. I can’t wait to hear what possible link you think you’ve found between a case that ended in acquittal all those years ago and Benedikt’s murder. Not to mention the hands and feet.’

  Huldar would have given anything at this moment to be fresh and alert. He couldn’t stand the thought of coming off worse in his confrontation with this obnoxious git. ‘Had you started working for the prosecution service when
Jón Jónsson was tried for the murder of Vaka Orradóttir? The trial took place eleven years ago.’

  Thorvaldur lost some of his complacency. He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue and re-crossed his legs. ‘I had started working there by then, yes. But I wasn’t involved – it was a major case and I was fairly new at the time. I may have been given some minor tasks to do in connection with it, but nothing important.’

  Huldar changed the subject, a tactic often used to make it harder for the interviewee to prepare his answers. Given his profession, Thorvaldur was bound to be familiar with the technique, but he had probably never been on the receiving end. ‘The way it looks to me is that, wittingly or unwittingly, you’re connected to this case. The pattern’s beginning to look familiar. Benedikt claimed not to know anything when the hands were discovered. Then he vanished. And now you’re sitting here, claiming not to know anything, and I suspect that the next thing we’ll hear is that you’ve vanished too. I don’t suppose you’re particularly thrilled by the prospect?’

  ‘No. I’m not.’ Thorvaldur looked away. ‘But I still think you’re barking up the wrong tree.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’ Huldar was silent a moment, then added: ‘For your sake.’ Leaning forward, he gestured at Thorvaldur’s right hand. ‘Nice ring. Are you a Freemason?’

  Thorvaldur jerked back his hand. ‘I don’t see that it’s any of your business.’

  ‘Benedikt was a Freemason. And one of the sawn-off hands had a mark left by the same kind of ring. Funny coincidence.’

  He got no further. The door was flung open and Erla marched in. ‘You can go, Huldar. We’ll take over now.’ Behind her appeared one of her superiors: Thorvaldur’s position as prosecutor had clearly galvanised senior management to intervene. The tone of the questions would no doubt be friendlier from now on. Well, that was their problem. At least it was plain from the two men’s expressions that they had no idea what he and Erla had got up to last night. She went on in a peremptory tone: ‘You can bring in Thröstur, his mother and sister, and interview them separately. It’s up to you what order you take them in.’