‘When you came out of the bedroom and saw Runólfur’s body you didn’t call the police. Why not?’
‘I told you.’
‘Was it to conceal what your father had done?’
‘No. There’s nothing to conceal. He didn’t do anything.’
‘But …’
‘You can’t think that Dad killed him,’ Nína protested anxiously. ‘Dad could never do a thing like that. Never. You don’t know him, what he’s been through, ever since he was a boy.’
‘You mean the polio?’
Nína nodded. Elínborg remained silent.
‘I shouldn’t have rung him,’ said Nína. ‘If I’d known he would be a suspect, I never would have.’
‘So can you explain to me more clearly why you and your father didn’t call the police?’
‘I was ashamed,’ Nína said. ‘Ashamed of being there. Of having gone there, having no memory of it, and waking up naked in a strange bed. Of being raped. I knew at once what he’d done to me. I felt … I felt humiliated. I didn’t want anyone to know. It was just so disgusting. I saw the condom on the floor, imagined what people might say. What if I’d come on to him? Was it somehow all my fault? Had I brought this on myself, brought it on my family? When I saw him dead on the floor, I think I went mad for a moment. I don’t know that I can describe it any better than that. I was scared — scared of what I had seen, and scared of the shame. I could hardly force myself to tell my own father what I was doing there, alone and naked with a complete stranger. How could I tell the police?’
‘There’s no shame in being raped. It’s the rapist who is shamed,’ said Elínborg.
‘I understand them better now,’ mumbled Nína. ‘God, how well I understand them.’
‘Them?’
‘The victims. I think I appreciate now what they go through. You hear about these rapes but there are so many horrors on the news that you tune them out, including the rapes. Now I know that behind every news story about rape there’s a revolting experience like mine. They’re women like me, women who’ve suffered horrific violence. And those men! What kind of beasts are they? I …’
‘What?’
‘I know I shouldn’t be saying this, and especially not to you. Especially not here, in this place. But I don’t care. When I think of what he did to me, it just makes me so angry. How he treated me. Drugged me and then raped me!’
‘What is it that you’re trying to say?’
‘And the sentences they’re given! It’s an outrage. The legal system doesn’t punish the bastards — it pats them on the back.’ Nína took a deep breath. ‘Sometimes …’ She struggled to suppress her tears. ‘There are times when I’d like to remember cutting his throat.’
About an hour later it was Konrád’s turn. Like his daughter, he was calm to start with, sitting in the interview room with his lawyer. He was tired, remarking that he had not slept at all. His wife had taken on the unenviable task of telling their son in San Francisco about the misfortunes that had overtaken his family. Konrád was worried about his daughter.
‘How is Nína?’ were the first words out of his mouth.
‘She’s not happy, of course,’ said Elínborg. ‘We want to get this over with as quickly as possible.’
‘I don’t understand how you could possibly think I was involved in the man’s death. I know I said that I would rather it had been me and not my daughter that killed him. But any father in my position would say that. I imagine you’d say the same yourself.’
‘This isn’t about me,’ Elínborg replied.
‘I hope you’re not taking what I said as some kind of confession.’
‘Why didn’t you call the police when you saw what had happened at Runólfur’s home?’
‘It was a mistake,’ said Konrád. ‘I know that. We could never have gone on concealing the truth. We realised that almost at once. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but put yourself in our shoes. I felt that Nína had been through enough, and I thought it would be all right so long as you — the police — didn’t know about her. They’d met at a bar that evening. She hadn’t told anyone where she was or who she was with. I did my best to take all her things away but I missed the shawl.’
‘Can we discuss how you got into Runólfur’s flat? I’m not clear about that.’
‘I simply walked in. The door was not quite closed. Nína probably opened the door — she was expecting me. We might have talked about it on the phone as I made my way over — how I was to get in. I’m not quite sure.’
‘She doesn’t remember, either.’
‘Well, the state she was in — and I wasn’t much better myself. I had the impression he’d been burning something, that man. I noticed a smell like that.’
‘Burning?’
‘Or … do you know if he had any paraffin around the place?’
‘Paraffin?’
‘You didn’t find any paraffin there?’
‘No. Nothing like that.’
‘Didn’t anyone notice a smell? A sort of paraffin smell?’
‘We didn’t find any paraffin,’ said Elínborg. ‘There was nothing of that sort in the flat.’
‘Well, there was a smell of paraffin when I got there,’ said Konrád.
‘There was nothing to indicate that he’d been burning anything except for some tea-light candles, that was all. What did you and your daughter do with the knife?’
‘What knife?’
‘The one your daughter used to kill Runólfur.’
‘She didn’t have any knife when I arrived. I gave no thought to it. She must have got rid of it somehow, during all the commotion.’
‘How do you shave? What do you use? An electric shaver? Safety razor? Straight razor?’
‘I use a safety razor.’
‘Do you own a straight razor?’
‘No.’
‘Have you ever owned one?’
Konrád thought about it.
‘We’ve got a warrant to search your home,’ said Elínborg. ‘And your daughter’s.’
‘I’ve never owned a straight razor,’ said Konrád. ‘I don’t even know how to use one. Is that what was used to kill him? A razor?’
‘There’s another thing that puzzles us,’ said Elínborg. ‘Your daughter, Nína, claims to have attacked Runólfur, although she has no memory of doing so. She says it’s the only possible explanation. So far as she knows, the two of them were alone in the flat. Do you think she could subdue a man like Runólfur on her own? Especially if he’d drugged her, and she was incapacitated?’
Konrád considered the question. ‘I’m well aware of the state she was in,’ he said.
‘She might have been capable of it, if she was in fact fully conscious and acted quickly and quietly, and took Runólfur by surprise,’ said Elínborg. ‘But first she would have had to get hold of the weapon. She had to be prepared.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Was she?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Was she prepared, when she went home with Runólfur?’
‘How could she have been prepared? She didn’t know the man. What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about premeditated murder,’ said Elínborg. ‘I’m saying your daughter went there with the express intention of killing Runólfur. I want to find out why. What was her motive? Who did she get to be her accomplice?’
‘I have never heard such a load of nonsense,’ said Konrád. ‘Surely you don’t mean that seriously?’
‘Runólfur didn’t just lie down and die,’ said Elínborg. ‘We can also consider the events from a different viewpoint. We haven’t disclosed the fact that Runólfur himself had ingested Rohypnol shortly before he died. And I don’t think he took it of his own accord. Someone must have compelled him. Or slipped it to him, just as he drugged your daughter.’
‘He took the stuff himself?’
‘We found traces in his mouth. He took a considerable quantity. That puts a different light on the story you and your daughter are telling, don’t you think?’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘Someone forced him to swallow the pills.’
‘Not me.’