‘I suppose that happens in America,’ Unnur said.
‘Not really,’ said Magnus. ‘I ended up becoming a homicide detective there. And usually there is a reason why one person kills another. It may be a stupid reason, but there is a reason.’
‘Just not in this case.’
Suddenly the suspicions that had been bubbling deep under the surface of Magnus’s consciousness ever since he had first heard of his father’s infidelity forced themselves into the open. He couldn’t ignore the connections his detective’s brain was making, couldn’t order it to stop doing what it had been trained to do.
But unlike the rush of excitement he usually experienced when things slipped into place, he now felt suddenly cold. His throat was dry, and when he spoke the sound that came out was little more than a croak.
‘I wonder.’
Unnur noticed something was wrong; she was watching him closely. ‘What do you wonder?’
‘Whether Grandpa was in some way responsible.’
Unnur frowned for a moment and then smiled.
This irritated Magnus. ‘What’s so funny?’ ‘There is no chance of that,’ Unnur said. ‘I mean, he’s a nasty old man, for sure, and he had a terrible hold over your mother. And he didn’t like Ragnar at all. But that’s the point. He was glad Ragnar went to the States and left Margrét here. In fact, that was what he wanted all along.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, at first Margrét was very excited about MIT. She had always wanted to live abroad and this seemed like a great opportunity for both of them.’
‘So she intended to go with Dad?’
‘Absolutely. But when she told her parents, they went ballistic, both of them. I don’t know why exactly, they got it all out of proportion. Hallgrímur demanded Margrét stay in Iceland, but she insisted on going with Ragnar. It became a trial of strength. Her parents used every psychological weapon at their disposal. Made her feel guilty, refused to speak to her, that kind of thing. They were difficult people to oppose.’
‘I remember,’ said Magnus.
‘At first Margrét held out. But it was eating her up. She began to drink a lot. She fought with Ragnar, she was just totally unreasonable. And in the end she changed her mind. Said that Ragnar should go by himself, and that she would stay in Iceland with you and Óli.
‘Ragnar was furious. That’s when… well… it happened between me and him.’
Unnur paused. Sighing.
‘So, when Margrét found out about the affair her parents were overjoyed. They had won, Ragnar lost, their daughter and grandchildren stayed in Iceland.’
‘I see,’ said Magnus. But the thought that his grandfather might have been responsible for his father’s murder, once expressed, could not be easily abandoned. ‘That’s not quite the story that I heard from my cousin. She said that it was the affair that caused Margrét to drink. That led to her death.’
‘That’s not right,’ said Unnur. ‘Like I said, she had been drinking seriously for several months before then. I’m sure it’s the story Hallgrímur made up. He was hardly likely to admit that he drove his own daughter to drink, was he?’
‘No,’ said Magnus. ‘But do you not think that later, after my mother had died, and especially after my father took us away from them, my grandfather might have wanted revenge?’
‘Perhaps. I mean, as I said, he certainly didn’t like your father. But I get the impression that there are many people whom your grandfather doesn’t like. And I don’t think he kills all of them.’ She frowned, thinking. ‘And anyway, why wait? I mean it was ten years after your mother died, wasn’t it?’
‘Eight,’ said Magnus. ‘And that is a good point. I don’t know. But I can imagine him capable of it.’
‘That’s true.’
Unnur paused, as if considering whether to say more. Magnus recognized the signs. He waited. Eventually she spoke. ‘Did you know Hallgrímur’s father murdered someone?’
‘What! I never heard anything about that.’
‘Of course you didn’t. It was his neighbour at Hraun. Jóhannes.’
‘How do you know?’
Unnur stood up and searched her shelves. She handed Magnus an old paperback. Moor and the Man by Benedikt Jóhannesson.
‘What’s this?’
‘Read chapter three.’ They were interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up. ‘You’d better go now, that’s my husband.’
Still trying to make sense of all he had heard, Magnus stared dumbly at the book in his hands. Another murder in his family?
‘Magnús?’
‘All right, I’ll go,’ he said. ‘Thanks for the coffee. And for speaking to me so honestly.’
‘Not at all,’ said Unnur. ‘Keep the book. And read chapter three.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AS FRIKKI DROVE along the busy Miklabraut his heart was singing. He and Magda had taken the bus back from the airport to Reykjavík, and another out to Breidholt, and then they had spent the afternoon in bed, screwing. Seeing the sun outside, Magda had said why don’t they go down to the Grótta beach on Seltjarnarnes to walk and see the sunset? It was something they used to do after their shifts at the hotel. Frikki wasn’t going to argue, and his mate Gunni had lent him his car.
Frikki glanced across at Magda. She was glowing. She always glowed. She always had this incredible goodness about her, like she was always looking on the bright side, everything was wonderful, everyone was a good person, he was a good person. And he could tell that today she was really happy. She had put on a little weight, she was always soft and round and cuddly and now she was softer and rounder, but he didn’t care. She had got herself a job in a hotel in Warsaw. A bloody miracle when there were all those other Poles coming back from hotels all over Western Europe. Except it wasn’t really a miracle. Any hotel manager would be able to tell what an amazing girl she was.
Frikki already felt a better person, and she had only been with him for a few hours. If only she could stay; her strength would rub off on him. He was a fucking good cook, none of his bosses could deny that, and with Magda around employers would give him the chance to prove it. But she was staying one week, that was all. He was determined to enjoy every second of it.
Magda smiled as she caught him glancing at her, and put her hand on his thigh as he was driving. ‘Do you remember that bakery in Seltjarnarnes? The one with those delicious strawberry pastry things?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Can we stop there on the way? We might get there just before it closes.’
Once again, Frikki wasn’t going to argue. Ten minutes later he pulled up on Nordurströnd, and they both went inside the warm shop. Magda let out a little squeal of delight when she spotted the only two strawberry delicacies still left, and Frikki asked the woman behind the counter how much they were.
Then he froze. As did the woman.
‘Hello,’ she said.
‘Hello,’ said Frikki.
‘You remember me?’
‘Yes.’
The woman smiled nervously. ‘How are you doing?’
‘All right,’ said Frikki. ‘Still haven’t found a job.’
‘As you can see, I have,’ said the woman. ‘Took a while though. Have you seen any of our friends?’
‘No,’ said Frikki. ‘And you?’
‘I see Björn every now and then. I’ve had people stop by asking me questions recently.’
‘The police?’ Frikki asked in a low voice and with a glance towards Magda, who seemed preoccupied with the cakes.
‘Yes. Don’t worry, I haven’t told them anything. They don’t know anything about you, do they?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Frikki. ‘I’ve never spoken to them.’
‘Good.’ The woman smiled. ‘Let’s hope it stays that way. That will be four hundred and fifty krónur.’