‘I don’t know what you are talking about. Why would I ask him for money?’
‘To pay for his son, Harpa. To pay for his son.’
‘No, no that’s not right,’ Harpa said, her voice rising. ‘He never knew Markús was his son. He never knew that. I told you that.’
‘You told us a lot of things, Harpa, and frankly I don’t believe many of them. Now, how much did you ask for?’
Harpa was breathing heavily. ‘Am I under arrest?’
‘Not yet,’ said Magnus. ‘But we can fix that if you like.’
‘I won’t say anything more unless I have spoken to a lawyer. I have a right to speak to a lawyer, don’t I?’
‘You do,’ said Vigdís, nodding towards the tape recorder. Magnus understood. This all had to be done according to the book, if the evidence was going to be admissible. It was just a slightly different book than he was used to. ‘Do you have one in mind, or would you like us to call one for you?’
‘Um, I have a friend who is a lawyer. Can I call her?’
‘Just wait a moment,’ said Vigdís. She turned off the tape and indicated to Magnus that they should leave the room.
‘So we get her a lawyer, right?’ said Magnus, once they were outside.
‘We speak to Baldur first,’ said Vigdís.
‘But you know what he’ll say,’ said Magnus in frustration. ‘Let her go.’
‘Actually, I don’t,’ said Vigdís. ‘But I do know that if we take this interview any further without discussing it with him he will be seriously pissed off.’
‘Well, let him be pissed off!’ Magnus had trouble keeping his voice down. ‘Someone’s got to crack this case open, and if we don’t do it, no one else will!’
‘Magnús,’ Vigdís said. She looked at him steadily.
‘All right,’ said Magnus, the frustration subsiding to a simmer. ‘You’re right. Let’s go talk to him.’
Baldur was in his office. He listened closely to what Magnus and Vigdís had to report. He was a good detective. He spotted what had been going on at once.
‘How did Sharon know that the dark-haired Icelandic woman who visited Óskar was important?’
Magnus could try bullshitting his boss, but that was never a good long-term strategy. ‘I told her about Harpa. In fact she was with me when Harpa admitted that Óskar was the father of her child.’
Baldur glared at Magnus. ‘I specifically told you to leave Harpa out of it.’
‘I know. I kept it unofficial,’ Magnus said. ‘And Sharon didn’t make a big deal of it at the British end. But she needed to know about Harpa just in case a link came up at her end. Which it did.’
Baldur ran his hand over his bare forehead where his hair had once grown many years before. ‘OK. OK, I take your point. But we know Harpa didn’t actually kill Óskar, right? She was in Iceland at the time.’
‘Yes, it looks that way. Her boss says she came to work early the following morning. We can check out the alibi more thoroughly, but my guess is it will stand.’
‘So what about the boyfriend?’
‘We don’t know where he was. I tried to see him today up in Grundarfjördur but he was out on a boat somewhere.’
‘I didn’t realize you were working today?’
Magnus shrugged.
‘OK,’ said Baldur. ‘You need to check him out.’
‘What about Harpa?’ Vigdís asked.
‘Let Harpa get her lawyer. And then ask her about Óskar and only Óskar. I don’t want you linking this to Gabríel Örn’s suicide, do you understand?’
‘But what if there is a link?’ Magnus protested.
‘There isn’t,’ Baldur said. ‘There is no firm evidence of one. And I don’t want you conjuring evidence out of thin air. ’
‘But the lawyer will tell her to keep her mouth shut,’ Magnus said.
‘Quite possibly,’ Baldur said. ‘And in that case, you let her go.’
Frikki and Magda sat on a stone on Grótta beach and watched the sun set. Despite the recent wind, the sea was calm and quiet, lapping against the black gritty shore. Ducks patrolled the water a few metres out, while along the shoreline a busy little gathering of small grey and white birds scampered in and out in time with the gentle waves.
The sun, a milky yellow ball, was heading for the horizon straight ahead of them. Layer upon layer of creamy clouds reflected its light in orange and gold. Way out to sea, there was nothing. Just the Atlantic.
Frikki and Magda had talked incessantly as they had walked along the beach, with Frikki doing most of the talking. It was strange: before she had come he had decided he would hide the dullness and the misery of his life, the fact that he found it difficult to get up in the morning, the way his whole week was concerned with looking forward to getting smashed at the weekend. But actually he found he wanted to talk to her about it, and she listened.
He didn’t tell her everything, of course. Nothing about the drugs. Or the petty burglary.
And now they sat in silence, watching the sun on its slow, inexorable descent towards the sea.
‘I know you stole that laptop, Frikki,’ said Magda.
‘What!’ Frikki was shocked out of his reverie. He turned to her in fake outrage. ‘I bought it off Gunni. Cheap. I told you that.’
Magda looked at him steadily, her eyes warm, without judgement.
‘Honest,’ he said.
‘OK,’ she said at last, and turned back to the sea.
The sun slipped further. ‘You’re right,’ said Frikki. ‘I did steal it. Some idiot left it on the front seat of his car. Mine was bust and I needed a computer. I had to keep in touch with you. Do you understand?’
‘I understand,’ said Magda.
She didn’t say: ‘but it was still wrong’. She didn’t have to.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Frikki. ‘Can you forgive me?’
‘Of course, I can forgive you,’ said Magda. ‘But what I really want to do is help you.’
‘What do you mean?’
Magda took hold of his hand. ‘I love you, Frikki. I’m sure this year has been hard for you. I know you’ve been trying to hide it, but I can see you are letting things go. Doing things you shouldn’t do.’
‘You’re right,’ said Frikki, giving her hand a quick squeeze. He took out a cigarette and lit it. Magda didn’t smoke.
‘What did the police want to see you about?’
‘I don’t want to say,’ said Frikki.
‘Was it stealing?’
Frikki didn’t answer. Magda removed her hand. They sat in silence.
‘It was worse than that,’ said Frikki. ‘A lot worse.’
‘Tell me.’
Frikki took a deep breath. And told her.
Magnus went to Ingileif’s apartment that evening. As she cooked supper she talked about her day in the gallery and quizzed him about the case. He told her about missing Björn at Grundarfjördur and about Harpa’s visit to Óskar in London. He mentioned nothing about Unnur.
After dinner he called Sharon Piper in London to tell her about the interview with Harpa. Unsurprisingly, Harpa had said nothing once her lawyer had arrived, and following Baldur’s instructions Magnus had let her go. Magnus also told Sharon about Ísak, the student at the London School of Economics who had had an argument with Harpa the night Gabríel Örn had died. Sharon agreed to talk to him.
When he had finished the call, Ingileif picked up her cello. She was still quite a serious player and practised almost every day. Magnus liked to listen to her, or to read while she was playing. She started on one of her favourites, a piece by Brahms. Magnus knew that whenever he heard that particular piece in future he would think of her.
It was all very domestic. And yet there were things that Magnus didn’t understand about Ingileif. They were not ‘in a relationship’ in the American sense of the word. Ingileif came and went as she pleased, made her own plans. Magnus wasn’t quite sure what his role in her life was. Should they spend time together at the weekend? Should he ask her what she was doing? What was she doing?