‘No,’ said Magnus. ‘If this does become a murder investigation we need to be sure that evidence is gathered by the book.’ Back in Boston too many cases had gone wrong because someone somewhere had screwed up the chain of evidence.
‘Are you sure? I’ll have to go to the magistrate in Ísafjördur.’
Magnus glanced again at the webcam. ‘Best do it,’ he said. ‘After we have seen Arnór.’
They found Arnór at the harbour next to a small blue fishing boat named Bragi. He was wrestling with a net. He was a broad-shouldered man of about forty, unshaven, with dark thinning hair. He had the rock-hard face of a man who had spent a couple of decades battling the North Atlantic.
He stood up and wiped his hands on his overalls. ‘I heard about Gústi,’ he said. ‘I expected a visit from you. Come on board.’
He led them into the boat’s small cabin and they sat on benches crammed around a little table. It was only marginally warmer than the quay outside.
‘I didn’t kill him,’ Arnór said.
Magnus took out his notebook. ‘You appreciate I have to ask you some questions.’
‘I just told you — I didn’t kill him. That’s really all you need to know.’
‘Tell me what you did this morning. From when you woke up.’
Arnór stared at Magnus. Magnus stared back. The fisherman rolled a cigarette and lit it. He had big strong hands, and he looked as if he was about to crush the roll-up as he held it between thumb and forefinger. He took a deep drag. Magnus waited. Eventually Arnór spoke. ‘The alarm went off at six. I got dressed, loaded some tackle on to my pickup, checked the computer and went down to the café at the harbour. Had breakfast with some of the guys.’
‘What time was that?’ Magnus asked.
‘About seven, I guess. I’m not sure.’
‘And who was there?’
Arnór gave Magnus and Tómas five names, all of which were known to Tómas.
‘Who else lives with you?’ Magnus asked.
‘My wife and two kids.’
‘Did they see you get up?’ Family members could always lie, of course, but then they could also tell the truth.
‘Nah. Whenever my wife hears the alarm she just rolls over. She doesn’t start work until nine. And the kids don’t get up for school until after seven. I’m often up early and they just ignore me.’
‘OK,’ said Magnus. ‘Now tell me about Gústi.’
‘I didn’t kill him,’ repeated Arnór.
‘That may be so, but you didn’t like him?’
‘He was a bastard. A lying, sneaking bastard.’ Arnór launched into a long disquisition on what a lying, sneaking bastard Gústi had been since the days when they had both been to school together. Magnus let him talk.
‘What happened last Saturday?’ he asked when Arnór had eventually finished. ‘You two had a fight. Why?’
‘Haven’t I given you enough reasons why?’ Arnór asked.
‘Yes, but why last Saturday in particular?’
Arnór took a drag on his cigarette. ‘There was a guy from Grindavík in here last week. Helgi. We don’t know each other well. He was in the café and I was talking to him, just chatting, you know. A couple of other guys were there as well. We were talking about quotas and me being busted last year. I mentioned my suspicions that Gústi had told someone in the ministry lies about me. Anyway, Helgi said his brother worked in the ministry and that he knew that the tip-off had come from someone living in Bolungarvík. It was proof that it was Gústi. Not that I needed it, I’d known all along, but Gústi had always denied it.’
Arnór was scowling. ‘The ministry investigated me, you know. They cleared me in the end, but if they had found me guilty it would have been all over for me. I can barely keep Bragi afloat as it is. A ban or a fine would have been the last straw.’
Magnus nodded. If Arnór had taken any loans out on his boat, he would be suffering from the credit crunch like most other Icelanders. It wouldn’t take much to put him out of business.
‘So I confronted him. We were both drunk. We both ended up outside. Trouble was I was too far gone to do him real damage. And then Tómas locked us up.’
‘Do you deny you threatened to kill Gústi?’ Magnus asked.
Arnór frowned. ‘No I don’t. And to be honest, that evening I felt like it. But not the next morning. And not this morning, either.’
Magnus examined the fisherman closely. He sounded convincing, but there was no doubt he had a motive.
‘Are you arresting me?’ Arnór asked.
‘No,’ said Magnus. ‘Not as long as you promise to stay in port tomorrow.’
‘I was planning to go out fishing tomorrow morning,’ said Arnór. ‘Just for the day.’
‘Got the handcuffs, Tómas?’ Magnus said.
Tómas reached for his belt.
‘All right, all right,’ Arnór grumbled. ‘I’ll be around tomorrow if you need me.’
‘Arnór?’ Magnus asked.
‘Yes?’
‘If you didn’t kill Gústi, do you have any idea who did?’
‘Sure,’ said Arnór.
‘Who?’
The fisherman grinned. ‘Got to be the hidden people, hasn’t it? They hated Gústi even more than I did.’
Magnus and Tómas checked with three of the local fisherman who had had breakfast with Arnór. They confirmed that he had come in at about seven, as did the owner of the café. Then the two policemen went on to Arnór’s house. His two teenage daughters were back from school and claimed they had heard nothing that morning, but their mother was still working at the petrol station.
It took less than five minutes to get there. Arnór’s wife was a small, businesslike woman with her dark hair tied up neatly in a bun, who confirmed that she had no idea when her husband had woken up. As a fisherman’s wife she had long ago learned to roll over in bed when the alarm went off, but she assured Magnus that although her husband hated Gústi he was incapable of killing him or anyone else.
There was no doubt that Magnus and Tómas’s questions rattled her, as they should. Arnór could have got up at six and left the house just before seven as he claimed. Or he could have left much earlier.
If it was Arnór who had started the landslide at just before six-thirty, there was time for him to return to town and the harbour for breakfast with his buddies. Just.
Things did not look good for the fisherman. Magnus and Tómas decided to ask some more questions the following morning, and then bring him in.
Tómas drove off to Ísafjördur to get the warrant from the magistrate there to search Gústi’s computer and also Arnór’s house and boat, leaving Magnus at the police station. He spent half an hour writing up his notes. He had almost finished when there was a knock at the door.
‘Hi!’ It was Eyrún. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Just about finished for the evening.’
‘Are you staying at the guesthouse?’
‘I am. I’m just going there now.’
‘Do you want to join us for dinner?’ Eyrún asked.
‘I’d love to,’ said Magnus.
‘OK. Bring your bag and I’ll drop you at the guesthouse afterwards.’
It wasn’t far to Eyrún’s house, and the Mayor talked the whole way. Magnus recognised the road. They pulled up into the small driveway of a neat white concrete house with a lime green corrugated metal roof.
‘Do you know Arnór?’ he asked. ‘Arnór Hafsteinsson, the fisherman? He lives just over there.’ He pointed to a smaller house two doors down on the other side of the street. Lights were blazing inside.
‘Yes I know him. And his family. He’s your prime suspect, I suppose?’
‘He didn’t like Gústi very much.’
‘He certainly didn’t,’ said Eyrún. ‘But he’s a good man. His girls babysit for us.’