‘Look at me, Gudrún,’ said Ólafur. ‘Why did you lie to us?’
Gudrún didn’t look up.
‘Are you Foxgirl?’ Vigdís asked. ‘Did you tell Alex and Martin to come to Raufarhöfn and disrupt the hunt for the other bear?’
Now Gudrún looked up. She nodded miserably.
‘Did you think we wouldn’t find out?’
‘I don’t know. I suppose so.’
‘Did you talk to Martin and Alex when they got here?’ Vigdís asked.
‘No,’ said Gudrún. ‘I didn’t want them to know that I was Foxgirl. That I was the daughter of the man who had shot the polar bear. And I didn’t want Dad to find out that I had been in touch with them. So I kept quiet.’
‘Does anyone know that you are Foxgirl?’
‘My friends at the university. And a couple of people around here.’
‘Sonja Jósepsdóttir? The teacher in Húsavík?’
‘Yes. She would know who I am.’
‘But not Martin Fiedler and Alex Einarsson?’
‘No. And definitely not Dad.’
‘So what did you argue with your father about?’ Ólafur asked.
‘Him shooting the polar bear.’ Gudrún shook her head. ‘I know him. He wanted the glory. He wanted to be the one who shot the bear. In Bolungarvík in the West Fjords they have a stuffed polar bear in the museum. Dad would have loved that. A little museum with a stuffed polar bear “shot by Constable Halldór Sveinsson”.’ She shuddered. ‘Horrible.’
‘And what did he say when you criticized him?’
‘He said that he had to shoot the bear to protect the little girl. But that’s not what really happened. Lilja in the petrol station told me that the farmer next door saw the whole thing. Dad wasn’t saving the little girl; he was using her as bait to shoot the bear. With a .22! He could easily have missed and then the girl would be dead. All for his vanity!’
Then Gudrún put her hand to her mouth and began to sob. ‘Listen to me, blaming him. He’s dead now! And I hated him just before he died. He and I loved each other. Why did it have to end like that? With a fight? I want him back. I want Mum back.’
Ólafur and Vigdís watched the girl break down in front of them. Vigdís glanced at Ólafur. He nodded.
‘Gudrún?’ she said gently. ‘Did you shoot your father?’
The girl stopped sobbing and she looked at Vigdís with incredulity. ‘What?’
‘Did you shoot your father?’
‘He was shot with a .22 rifle,’ said Ólafur. ‘Your father owned a .22 rifle. You know how to shoot it.’
‘I thought those two activists who came shot him? I thought you had arrested them?’
‘We can send your father’s gun for analysis. We can see if the bullet we found in your father’s skull was fired from the gun. If you shot him, we will find out.’
‘But I didn’t shoot him!’ said Gudrún. She looked at both detectives, her face a mixture of misery, confusion and fear. ‘I didn’t shoot him,’ she said much more quietly. ‘Oh, my God! You really think I shot my father, don’t you?’
‘We know you had an argument with him,’ said Ólafur. ‘We know that you were angry about the polar bear and the little girl. We can check the rifle.’
‘Check it then!’ said Gudrún, and then she started to sob. ‘This doesn’t make any sense. I remember what Dad told me about all this. I won’t say anything more to you without a lawyer.’
And she didn’t.
They needed to get Halldór’s rifle to Reykjavík for ballistics analysis as fast as possible. Ólafur persuaded the coastguard to lend them one of the helicopters they had been using to look for the polar bear, and one of Edda’s forensic technicians took the bagged-up rifle and hitched a lift to Reykjavík.
They kept Gudrún in the cell overnight — her father’s police cell. With luck they would hear back within twenty-four hours and then charge her.
‘We’ve done just about all we can for today,’ said Ólafur later. ‘I’m going for a run.’
‘I’ve still got some paperwork to finish up,’ said Vigdís. ‘If you’ll let me.’
Ólafur glanced at the other two policemen working at their desks. ‘Come outside with me, Vigdís.’
She followed him out to his car.
‘Well done,’ Ólafur said. ‘That was good work. I’m glad I listened to you.’
‘So am I,’ said Vigdís dryly.
‘Look, I’m sorry, but when this is over, I will have to submit an official report to Chief Superintendent Thorkell. I will tell him you played an important part in the investigation. But what you did was totally unacceptable. If Martin Fiedler had in fact killed Halldór, you would have ruined any chance of securing a conviction.’
‘I know,’ said Vigdís. She had been sure that Martin was innocent. She was also sure that Ólafur was right: she had acted unprofessionally. She couldn’t expect anything else from Ólafur; she had only herself to blame.
Chapter seven
‘Hi, Vigdís!’
Vigdís looked up from her paperwork to see the large familiar figure of Magnus grinning at her. She grinned back.
‘You made it!’
‘This is not an easy place to get to. I ended up flying to Akureyri and borrowing one of their cars to drive the rest of the way.’
‘At least the weather’s not too bad this time of year,’ she said. ‘The town can be completely cut off in winter.’
Magnus scanned the tiny police station. Two uniformed policemen were also working in there. They nodded a greeting to him.
‘Is Ólafur here?’
‘He’s gone for a run. He could be ages. That man is super fit.’
‘What’s he like?’ Magnus asked.
Vigdís glanced quickly at the officers around them. ‘Old school.’
‘Well, since he isn’t here, why don’t you tell me what’s been going on?’
‘All right,’ said Vigdís. ‘Do you want to take a walk? See the sights of Raufarhöfn?’
‘Sure, why not?’ said Magnus. ‘I’ve been cooped up in the car for three hours.’
So they left the police station and strolled through the town towards the harbour. The wind had died down, the evening sun was on their faces, and it was almost warm. They found a wall by the harbour. In front of them a fisherman was loading a very large net on to a very small boat.
‘What happened, Vigdís?’
‘I don’t know. I was just stupid.’
‘But why?’
‘I don’t know that either. I was free of worrying about Mum for a few days. I was lonely.’ Vigdís really didn’t want to mention the drink. She was too ashamed. ‘It feels like you are a long way from real life out here. I was so stupid.’
‘Yeah,’ said Magnus. They sat in companionable silence for a moment. ‘It’s the kind of stupid thing I would do.’
Vigdís smiled. ‘That’s no recommendation, is it?’
‘No,’ said Magnus. ‘Definitely not.’
‘My career is screwed now.’
‘Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows? Has Ólafur made an official complaint to Thorkell yet?’
‘Not yet, but he will. He’s told Baldur, and Baldur will tell his cronies. I don’t think he has told any of the other police officers here.’
‘That’s something,’ said Magnus.
Vigdís snorted. She would be a laughing stock back in Reykjavík once everyone found out. ‘It is the kind of thing you would do, isn’t it?’
Magnus nodded. ‘Is he a nice guy, at least?’
‘Martin? I think so. That is if he isn’t a cop killer after all.’
Magnus frowned, as if struck by a thought. ‘Does he speak Icelandic?’
‘No,’ said Vigdís.
‘Do you speak English to him? Or are you a secret German speaker?’
‘He speaks English to me,’ said Vigdís. ‘And I sort of reply back.’
‘Sounds like a perfect relationship.’