‘He’s in London,’ Gagga said. ‘One of those bright young entrepreneurs who’s hit the big time abroad is opening an office there with the president in attendance and all that razzmatazz. Everything flown out by corporate jet; nothing less will do.’
‘They’ve done bloody well for themselves.’
‘It’s all on credit, you know. All they really own is debts which somebody will have to pay off in the end.’
‘Well, I think they’re doing a fantastic job,’ objected Sigurdur Óli, who had been taking a close interest in the success of Icelandic businessmen at home and abroad. He was impressed by their drive and enterprise, especially when it came to buying up household-name companies in Britain and Denmark.
They sat down at the table. His mother had made tuna lasagne, an old favourite of his.
‘Would you like me to heat it up for you?’ she asked, taking his plate and putting it in the microwave before he could reply. The oven pinged and Gagga passed the plate back to her son. He was still disturbed by his short conversation with Finnur about Lína’s death. Finnur had sounded quite worked up, angry even, and that anger had been directed at him. ‘What the hell were you doing at her place, Siggi?’ Finnur had asked. He loathed being called Siggi.
‘Have you heard from Bergthóra at all?’ asked his mother.
‘Saw her yesterday.’
‘Oh? And what’s she got to say for herself?’
‘She said you never liked her.’
Gagga was silent. She had not taken any food, despite having laid a place for herself, but now she picked up a spoon, helped herself to some lasagne, then got up and put it in the microwave. Sigurdur Óli was still feeling resentful about all the time he had wasted watching postboxes for her, and by the fact that she had interrupted the American football with her phone call the night before, but most of all because of what Bergthóra had said.
‘Why does she say that?’ his mother asked as she stood by the oven, waiting for the bell.
‘She’s adamant that it’s true.’
‘So she blames me for everything, does she? For what happened to your relationship?’
‘I don’t seem to remember you being particularly sad about it.’
‘Of course I was,’ his mother said, but did not sound very convincing.
‘Bergthóra’s never mentioned this before. But when I started thinking back, it occurred to me that you never used to come round and see us, and you had very little contact with her. Were you trying to avoid her?’
‘Of course not.’
‘She talked a lot about you yesterday. She was very honest, but then we don’t have anything to hide from each other any more. She said you didn’t think she was good enough for me and that you blamed her for the fact we couldn’t have children.’
‘What nonsense!’ Gagga exclaimed.
‘Is it?’
‘It’s ridiculous,’ his mother declared and sat down with her steaming plate, but did not touch her food. ‘She can’t say things like that, the silly girl. What utter nonsense.’
‘Did you blame her for not being able to have children?’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, it is her fault! I didn’t need to blame her.’
Sigurdur Óli put down his fork.
‘And that was all the support she got from you,’ he said.
‘Support? I didn’t get any support when your father and I divorced.’
‘Oh, you generally manage to get your own way. And what do you mean by support? It was you who left him.’
‘Well, anyway, what now? What’s going to happen to you two now?’
Sigurdur Óli pushed away his plate and looked around him; at the spacious sitting room that opened off the kitchen, decorated in his mother’s impersonal style: white walls, heated floors covered in large black tiles, expensive new blocky furniture, and art that was pricey without necessarily being in good taste.
‘I don’t know. I suppose it’s over.’
Ebeneser had been weeping. He was still at the hospital when Sigurdur Óli went over later that evening to express his condolences. Ebeneser had been gone briefly that afternoon and by the time he returned Lína was dead. Now he was alone in the visitors’ lounge in a state of bewilderment, as if he did not know whether to go or stay. He had watched as they took her body away for an urgent post-mortem to establish the precise cause of death.
‘I wasn’t there,’ Ebeneser said after Sigurdur Óli had been sitting with him for a little while. ‘When she died, I mean.’
‘So I gather. I’m sorry,’ Sigurdur Óli said. He had been itching to talk to Ebeneser but had thought it best to give him some space to recover, though no longer than the time it took for him to visit Gagga.
‘She never woke up,’ Ebeneser continued. ‘Never opened her eyes. I didn’t realise it was that serious. When I came back she was gone. Dead. How … how the hell did this happen?’
‘We mean to find out,’ Sigurdur Óli said. ‘But you have to help us.’
‘Help you? How?’
‘Why was she attacked?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know who did it.’
‘Who knew she’d be alone at home?’
‘Knew …? I don’t know.’
‘Have you had any trouble before with violent types — debt collectors, for example?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, of course I’m sure.’
‘I don’t believe the man who attacked Lína was necessarily a burglar. It seems much more likely, judging from what I saw, that he was a debt collector, but we can’t be certain that he was acting on his own behalf. Do you follow me?’
‘No.’
‘It’s just as likely that he was working for someone else who sent him round to your place with the express intention of using violence against you, or against Lína. That’s why I’m asking: who knew that you would be out of town that day? And that Lína would be alone?’
‘I really have no idea. Look, do we have to discuss this now?’
They were facing one another; the hospital was silent all around them and the hands of the large clock over the door crawled round. Sigurdur Óli leaned forward and whispered: ‘Ebeneser, I know you and your wife were trying to blackmail people with photos.’
Ebeneser said nothing.
‘That sort of thing can be risky,’ Sigurdur Óli continued. ‘I know you did it because I know the people involved. Are you aware of who I’m talking about?’
Ebeneser shook his head.
‘All right,’ Sigurdur Óli said. ‘Have it your way. I don’t believe the people I know would have set that animal on you. In fact, I find the idea highly unlikely because I know them and it would have required a lot more initiative than I credit them with. I’d gone round to see Lína myself when she was attacked.’
‘You were there?’
‘Yes. My acquaintances asked me to persuade her, to persuade both of you, to abandon your attempt at blackmail and give me the photos.’
‘What … Can you …?’ Ebeneser did not know what to say.
‘Do you know who I’m talking about?’
Ebeneser shook his head again.
‘Please, can we talk about this another time?’ he asked, his voice so low that it was barely audible. ‘For Christ’s sake, Lína just died.’
‘I have reason to believe,’ Sigurdur Óli ploughed on, ‘that her attacker may have been at your house on the same errand as me. Do you follow?’
Ebeneser did not answer.
‘He must have been there for exactly the same reason; to try and dissuade Lína from persisting with the stupid course of action that you were both set on. Could I be right?’
‘I don’t know what motive he could have had,’ Ebeneser said.
‘Have you tried to blackmail anyone?’
‘No.’