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

  Huldar took a final drag, then stubbed out his cigarette right in the man’s watering eye. Then he slammed the door and lit another. Behind him he heard a scream of agony.

  He set off towards the car where Dagmar was sitting.

  Chapter 35

  ‘And you’re sticking to this story?’ The woman from internal affairs caught her colleague’s eye, then they both looked back at Huldar. He was familiar with the expression, having seen it countless times in the mirror when he slipped into the gents in the middle of interviewing a suspect. It was an odd feeling to be sitting on the other side of the table. He knew what was going through the heads of his interrogators, recognised the glances and the tactics behind the repetitive questions, the changes in intonation. Always knew what was coming next – and they knew he knew. ‘You really expect us to buy this?’

  ‘Yes.’ Huldar didn’t look away and was careful not to shift in his seat or tap his fingers. ‘Does anyone say different?’

  The man’s face tightened, he compressed his lips and deep creases formed between his eyes. ‘There are two versions, as I’m sure you’re aware. One’s being bandied about by the coffee machine; the other’s the one your colleagues are prepared to go on record about. And that one, which you unwisely insist on repeating, simply doesn’t stand up to scrutiny. No one, regardless of whether he’s a drunk, a pervert or whatever else applies to Jón Jónsson, no one would stub out a cigarette in his own eye.’

  ‘Yet that’s exactly what he seems to have done.’ Huldar shrugged. ‘Stranger things have happened. What’s he saying? That I did it?’ He knew this wasn’t the case; Erla had whispered that much to him before he was called in for questioning. And also that they were all prepared to back up his story. When he came in that morning, several of his colleagues had actually slapped him on the back.

  ‘He can’t remember. He was too drunk.’ The woman smiled sarcastically. ‘As I’m sure you’re aware.’

  Huldar made do with shrugging again. There was no need to insult them by contradicting them.

  ‘How did you hurt yourself?’ The woman pointed to Huldar’s grazed chin and hands.

  ‘I fell.’ He omitted to mention that Gudlaugur had knocked him down to prevent him from getting to Dagmar. The young officer had stepped out of the car for a breath of fresh air, witnessed his attack on Jón Jónsson and reacted with lightning speed. ‘I slipped on the gravel at the crime scene. It’s nothing serious, but thanks for asking.’

  ‘Aren’t you Mr Wise Guy?’ The man drew over a sheet of paper that he had placed on the table but not touched since they’d sat down. ‘How about telling us the truth? We give you our word that the matter will be dealt with fairly. We’re well aware that this investigation has been gruelling for all concerned, and presumably the change in your status at work hasn’t made life any easier for you.’

  Sooner or later this was bound to happen: they’d start acting friendly, pretending to be on his side. It was all by the book. If he fell for their fair words he would end up in ‘the Box’, the basement room where those who deserved to be dismissed whiled away their days on pointless statistics. No one ever returned from the Box to normal assignments. Huldar lost it. ‘I couldn’t give a toss about my promotion. Erla’s welcome to the job, for all I care.’ It came out badly and he leant back and counted to ten under his breath. The oh-you-poor-thing look on the pair’s faces made him hold back for another couple of beats. Then, having recovered some of his composure, he added more calmly: ‘Erla’s a better departmental manager than I ever was. I assure you I’m not disappointed about being demoted. Not in the least.’

  ‘Yes, right.’ The woman leant over to the man and read a note he’d written. ‘Since you mention Erla, there’s another matter we’d like to raise.’

  ‘Oh?’ Huldar’s stomach clenched. He had prepared himself mentally for the interrogation but hadn’t been expecting any surprises.

  ‘It’s a sensitive issue and we understand perfectly if you’d rather discuss it with a counsellor. We can make an appointment for you later. The same applies if you find it uncomfortable having one or other of us in here while you’re giving your statement. Some people prefer to discuss this kind of thing with a woman, others with a man.’

  ‘What?’ Huldar wasn’t sure he’d heard the woman right. ‘I’m not with you.’

  The woman held up the sheet of paper. It was too far away for Huldar to be able to read the small print but the heading was clear: Responding to Sexual Harassment in the Workplace. His stomach turned upside down. That could mean only one thing. Had Erla really stooped so low as to bring a complaint against him? Had he delayed too long before talking to her? ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You’re not familiar with the contents?’ The woman placed it on the table and pushed it towards him. ‘It’s compulsory reading. You should know that.’

  Huldar didn’t touch the sheet. ‘I have read it. I just don’t understand what it’s got to do with me.’ He wondered if he should ask for permission to discuss this with a counsellor instead. That would at least give him a breathing space.

  ‘Oh, I think you do understand. What’s more, we’re convinced that this was one of the factors behind the incident on Sunday evening. If you tell us the truth about that, it will be taken into account when we’re processing the harassment case.’ The man had taken over. ‘Everyone finds it hard to discuss this kind of thing. We understand that. That’s why it’s so rare for people to come forward. You’re one of the few lucky enough to have had it reported by a third party.’

  ‘What?’ Huldar was beginning to think they must be on drugs. ‘Me? Lucky?’ He was glad at least that Erla hadn’t shopped him. But the idea that he was lucky didn’t make any sense.

  ‘Yes. You’d probably never have brought a complaint yourself. Men rarely take that step.’

  Huldar was dumbstruck. Erla hadn’t complained about him; he wasn’t even a suspect. He was the victim. Never in a million years would he have expected that. Who the hell had done this to him? And to Erla? Alas, there were plenty of suspects: the department was abuzz with gossip about the night they had spent together. The person who had reported this must have done it in a spirit of vindictiveness. To get back at him or Erla. Or perhaps for a joke, but he wasn’t amused. ‘Can I ask who fed you that pack of lies?’

  ‘You can ask, but we aren’t at liberty to say. Though you can rest assured that our source is reliable.’ The man gave him a sympathetic look. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of. The shame belongs entirely to the offender.’

  ‘No. No, no, no. There’s been some sort of mistake. I haven’t been harassed by her. Either sexually or in any other way. Please, I’m asking you: throw out this report and don’t raise it with me again. It’s a total misunderstanding.’ He paused for breath. ‘Honestly.’

  ‘Are you denying that she made advances? That she used her position as your boss to lure you into a sexual relationship?’

  ‘Yes. I am denying that. Partly. It wasn’t like you say, and I insist you drop this report or charge or whatever this bullshit is.’ Huldar prepared to stand up. There were limits to what he would put up with. ‘Someone’s making a fool of you.’

  For the first time, the pair on the other side of the table seemed less sure of themselves. They dropped their condescending manner. ‘Well, we’ll see. Take your time to think it over and we’ll discuss it again later. The complaint will be followed up whether you like it or not, and so will the inquiry into what happened to Jón Jónsson. Neither matter is closed.’

  Huldar jumped to his feet. He couldn’t spend another minute in here. ‘I’ve got to go. People are waiting for me.’ He wasn’t about to tell them that he was due to join Erla for the interrogation of Dagmar. They were quite capable of banning him from any further involvement in the case until the inquiry into Jón’s injury was concluded. And internal affairs worked at such a glacial pace that the murder case would be resolved long before that happened. It was only thanks to Erla that he ha
dn’t already been transferred. And he was desperate to hear Dagmar’s story. He was bitter enough about having to miss yesterday’s interviews. Erla had dispatched him straight back to town with Gudlaugur after the attack on Jón, and ordered him to stay at home on Monday and cool down. So he’d only heard second hand what had emerged so far.

  ‘Before you go …’

  Huldar paused in the doorway.

  ‘If you’re involved in an intimate sexual relationship with your manager, Erla, you’re to end it now. Or she’ll lose her job. Understood?’

  Huldar turned back, unable to suppress a smile. ‘Understood.’ In one fell swoop his worries about how to break it off had been removed. All in all, this interview could have gone a lot worse.

  Huldar tapped gently on the door of the room where Dagmar’s interview was scheduled to take place. He opened it, apologised for being late and slipped into the seat beside Erla. Facing them were Dagmar and her counsel, a youngish lawyer who Dagmar had picked at random from the list she was offered.

  It was more than twenty-four hours since her arrest. The cells were overflowing in the wake of the weekend’s dramatic events, with Jón Jónsson, Orri, Thröstur and his mother Agnes all locked up separately. The police had decided to release the mother and son that evening. There was no point detaining them any longer: Agnes had confessed to having helped her son dig up the coffin and take it to the dump; Thröstur had admitted to the same offence and also to having covered up the murder of Einar Adalbertsson eleven years earlier. The latter offence fell outside the statute of limitations. Besides, Thröstur had been a minor at the time. He and his mother would have to stand trial for the desecration of a grave and the unlawful treatment of a dead body, but these offences were punishable only by a fine or a few months in prison. Sigrún had turned out not to have been involved in either incident. She was the only person to emerge with a clean conscience, apart from Thorvaldur’s children.

  Thröstur wouldn’t get off as lightly. He had perverted the course of justice by deliberately withholding information. Since he had finally agreed to cooperate, however, detaining him further would serve no purpose.

  Orri was a different matter. They were having difficulty proving that he had played any direct role in the murders. Dagmar alleged that he had and most of the inquiry team were inclined to accept her version. They didn’t believe for one minute, as Orri’s experienced lawyer never tired of claiming, that she was suffering from psychotic delusions. But her word was of limited value given that no solid evidence confirmed Orri’s involvement, and none of the witnesses had backed up her statement. If no proof emerged, Orri might well get away with a token sentence. It would be impossible to prove that he was an accomplice, let alone an equal partner in the murders, as Dagmar maintained. Her tendency to inconsistency about the specifics weakened her statement still further.

  Her counsel wanted her to undergo a psychiatric assessment, but she flatly refused and threatened to hire a different lawyer. Despite her refusal to budge on this, a judge might still insist on one. To complicate matters still further, the judges might have to declare a conflict of interests, since she was being tried for the murder of one of their colleagues. And no one from the Prosecutor’s office could act in the trial because of their professional links to Benedikt Toft and Thorvaldur; an outsider would have to be brought in. Thorvaldur was on indefinite leave and probably wouldn’t come back even after he’d recovered from the loss of his hand. The same applied to the psychologist Sólveig; she had been sent on gardening leave while the inquiry was in progress and was no more likely than Thorvaldur to be allowed to return to her job.

  ‘Well, well, if it isn’t the smoker?’ Dagmar grinned. Remarkably enough, she was looking much better now than the first time Huldar had seen her. She looked happier, carefree. She had been allowed to tidy herself up, her hair was nicely styled and she was wearing make-up, as if she was expecting photographers. ‘My favourite cop.’ She had witnessed his assault on Jón Jónsson, but so far had not admitted to it. She had no idea that she had been next on his list and, even if she had, it probably wouldn’t have changed her attitude. Jón Jónsson was the person she hated most in the world and nothing unites people like a common enemy.

  Huldar pretended he hadn’t heard, and Erla ordered Dagmar to carry on with her story. The woman turned back to her. ‘I’ve already told you the whole thing, both yesterday and the night before, but as you seem to be so slow, I’ll repeat it all over again.’ She pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over her cheek. ‘Like I said, it was never my intention to let Jón Jónsson go all the way with that girl.’

  ‘Her name’s Karlotta.’ Erla locked eyes with Dagmar. ‘Try to remember that.’

  ‘Karlotta. Rather a pretentious name, don’t you think? Never mind. I just wanted that vile father of hers to hear her scream. Scream like Vaka screamed. The moment Jón got ready to …’ The woman faltered, seeming suddenly uncomfortable, then shrugged it off and resumed as carelessly as before: ‘When he got ready to do the deed, I shoved him off. He was so drunk he was no match for me. My deepest regret is that I didn’t kill him then, while I had the chance. But I made do with knocking him out and I was going to wait until he woke up before fetching the chainsaw.’

  ‘The chainsaw, yes.’ Erla scribbled a note and the young lawyer blanched.

  ‘Could I speak to my client in private, please?’

  ‘Oh, stop interfering, will you?’ Dagmar said to him. ‘You’re here to satisfy the formalities. It doesn’t matter what I say or do. I’ll get the usual sixteen years.’

  ‘That’s not necessarily correct. It’s possible to get twenty years. Or life. Just because that term has never yet been imposed, that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen.’ The lawyer looked at Huldar and Erla in an appeal for support but in vain. It was up to Dagmar to protect her own interests. If she threw her counsel out, then so be it.

  Dagmar rolled her eyes. ‘Blah-blah-blah. Can I go on?’

  ‘Yes, please do.’ Huldar finally joined in. ‘Tell us about your relationship with Jón Jónsson. How did you get him on side?’

  ‘It was simple. I corresponded with him. Had envelopes printed with the name of his solicitor’s and the address of the hair salon, to make it look official, and added the lawyer’s name to our post box. No one noticed. I wrote to him saying that I understood him; I copied texts I found online where people claim that paedophilia is a valid sexual orientation. He fell for it, and I just continued bullshitting him, saying I could provide him with material that would satisfy his urges so he’d leave real children alone. If I’d said I was going to provide him with kids, he’d have seen through me. As it was, he believed he’d found a soul mate, a woman who was attracted to prisoners.’

  Dagmar fell silent and looked complacently at Huldar and Erla in turn. She seemed to expect them to applaud her for her cleverness. When they simply stared back stony-faced, she gave up, shook her head carelessly and continued her tale. ‘I was a bit worried he’d see through me but I needn’t have been. I mean, he had no one else to turn to. A drowning man doesn’t stop to question the quality of the life-belt that’s thrown to him.’

  ‘And when he got out?’

  ‘We arranged that in our last letters. He was to phone me when he got to town. I’d look after him until he found his feet.’ Dagmar laughed grimly. ‘It went like clockwork. He rang from a public phone and I went and picked him up. I had a bottle of whisky on the front seat and told him it was to celebrate his release. He hesitated a bit and that got me worried. I was afraid if he was sober he’d recognise me from the trial. But I needn’t have worried – he unscrewed the top and took a swig. After that it was plain sailing. I drove him to the holiday house where Orri and I had put a mattress, booze, food, an electric heater and some disgusting material we’d printed off the internet ages ago. That was all he needed, and we didn’t have to think about him again until later. Though I did take his shoes away to stop him wandering off, and locked the
room where we were holding Yngvi. Mind you, by then Yngvi’d stopped his screaming and was pretty far gone. Then he went and died.’ Dagmar took a sip of water. ‘That was a mistake, actually.’

  ‘In what way a mistake?’ Erla looked up from the notes she was taking while Dagmar talked.

  ‘We’d been under the impression that Jón would get out earlier. But his release was delayed for some reason, so we were stuck with that bloody Yngvi for two months.’

  ‘Why wait for him?’ Huldar assumed this had been clarified the day before but he had only been briefed with the main points of her statement. ‘Why didn’t you just murder your targets two months earlier? You’d been planning this for so long that I don’t see why two months either way should matter.’

  ‘For two reasons, my favourite cop. Firstly, we always meant it to look like Jón had killed the lot of them. Secondly, all the murders needed to be carried out in a short space of time. That would reduce the risk that we’d be caught before we’d finished – as we were, sadly. I’d like to have taken out that bitch Sólveig, and of course it was a mistake for Jón to survive. That was the police’s fault. If you’d arrived an hour later I’d have chopped him into little pieces. In front of Thorvaldur, so he wouldn’t get bored.’

  ‘In front of his children too?’

  Dagmar shrugged. ‘No. Probably not.’ Her lawyer was visibly relieved by this answer. ‘But I can tell you one thing, Mr Marlboro Man.’ Dagmar grinned at Huldar but didn’t seem to care when he didn’t respond in kind. If anything, it seemed to amuse her. ‘By then I was past caring whether the murders were blamed on Jón or not. I was past caring what would happen once it was all over. But Orri felt differently.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ Erla interrupted before Huldar could speak. She was annoyed by Dagmar’s constant allusions to the business with the cigarette. ‘I’m pretty sure you’d have removed all the fingerprints and other evidence of your presence, as Orri seems to have done, if we hadn’t tracked you down when we did.’