‘A case I’m looking into. Remember the girl who was found strangled behind the National Theatre during the war?’
‘All I remember is that Dad held that disastrous seance because of her. Why?’ she added suspiciously. ‘Was he involved in the case?’
‘No, not directly,’ said Konrád. ‘It turns out that an old man called Thorson, who came over during the war, had hung on to some cuttings about the girl’s murder, and it seems he went to see Vigga about it.’
‘Old Vigga? Is she still alive?’
‘Only just. I went to visit her, but she was pretty out of it — started rambling on about some other girl, not the one found by the theatre. You don’t remember hearing about any similar incidents, do you?’
‘No. But then it all happened before we were born. Was the other girl found in the Shadow District too?’
‘I don’t remember anyone mentioning another case when I was with the police. The question is whether it ever made it into the papers.’
‘Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to look it up.’
‘The thing is, shortly after he visited Vigga, this man — Thorson — was murdered. He seems to have been digging around for information about the dead girl by the theatre. And possibly about a second girl too, given what Vigga said. I got the impression she mistook me for Thorson. She’s a shadow of her former self, poor old thing.’
‘What was her name again? Rósamunda, wasn’t it? The girl behind the theatre?’
‘That’s right, Rósamunda. Why was he wondering about her now, seventy years later? Thorson was in his nineties. Why did he go and see Vigga? For that matter, how come he knew her in the first place and what could she have known about the case?’
‘Well, the girl was found in the neighbourhood and Vigga used to keep her ear to the ground. She lived there almost all her life.’
‘Yes, but he must have unearthed something directly connected to the case. God knows what that could have been and how he managed it.’
‘Perhaps it had been nagging at him his whole life,’ said Beta. ‘Perhaps he stumbled across some new information. Who was he?’
‘I haven’t been able to find out much about him,’ said Konrád. ‘Incidentally, Vigga said something else about the other girl. It was very hard to hear but I thought she said her bones had never been found. But I don’t know what she meant and I couldn’t get any more out of her.’
‘So some other girl must have suffered a similar fate, but her body was never found?’
‘Actually, that fits with something Dad said about the seance, though it was all a bit vague.’
‘What, that there were two girls? Rósamunda and a second girl you know nothing about?’
‘Yes, a girl who was never found,’ said Konrád. ‘Assuming there’s any point in trying to make sense of what Vigga said. I wonder if Thorson was still looking for her after all these years? Was that why he visited Vigga at the nursing home? Mind you, I’ve no idea what she was saying about the huldufólk.’
‘The huldufólk?’
‘Vigga mentioned this second girl and referred to the hidden people — the elves, presumably — in the same breath.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘I haven’t a clue. But I was wondering if it could be the same girl the medium mentioned to Dad.’
‘What are you on about?’
‘The medium said there was another girl.’
‘That was a hoax,’ said Beta angrily. ‘They were con men. You can’t believe anything that came out of those seances. When are you going to wake up? Don’t tell me you’re still trying to... Dad was an absolute shit and no doubt deserved what happened to him. He was a nasty piece of work who swindled people and harmed people and treated Mum so badly she walked out on him, thank God.’
‘Leaving me behind.’
‘She didn’t leave you behind, Konrád — he wouldn’t let you go. He split us up. That’s the kind of man he was. We’ve been over this again and again. How do you think Mum felt when she had to leave you behind? He was just using you to get back at her. He broke up the family. Mum couldn’t live with him any longer and that was his way of punishing her. That’s the kind of man he was and you’re old enough to stop defending him. Our father was a feckless creep and a scumbag.’
‘I remember what he was like,’ said Konrád. ‘There’s no need to fly off the handle. I know how he treated Mum. I know all that and I don’t need you to remind me every time we talk about him. But he wasn’t completely worthless.’
‘He was a total shit. That’s all there is to it.’
‘How can you say he deserved what happened to him? You know nothing about it. You come out with this crap but you have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘He brought it on himself,’ Beta snorted, and stood up to leave, as she did from time to time when she got really angry with Konrád. ‘He brought it on himself.’
15
Following their interview with Frank Ruddy, Flóvent and Thorson took a table at a restaurant on Hafnarstræti called Hot and Cold. The place had opened after the outbreak of war and was popular with servicemen. It sold fish and chips alongside traditional Icelandic dishes such as breaded lamb chops, rhubarb pudding, and skyr with cream, which proved a hit with the soldiers. The worst of the crush was over by the time the two men arrived and the owner, a short, curly-haired man in shoes with noticeably built-up heels, was busy clearing the tables. As they tucked into their salt cod with boiled potatoes and dripping they fell to discussing Frank Ruddy.
Ruddy would remain in the custody of the military police until they had confirmed his statement and checked whether he had a criminal record in the States. He had given them the name of the other Icelandic girl he was seeing and Flóvent was planning to talk to her later that evening. Both men instinctively felt he was lying to them about the man he claimed to have seen on the corner of Skuggasund and Lindargata, deliberately misleading them to divert attention from himself. It seemed that had been his intention all along: he was as deceitful and slippery in his dealings with them as he was where Icelandic women were concerned.
‘Luckily they’re not all like him,’ said Thorson.
‘No, the girls deserve better than jackasses like that.’
‘John Carroll?’ mused Thorson. ‘Didn’t he play Zorro?’
‘Yes, he was Zorro.’ Flóvent blew on his hot dripping. He was a keen cinemagoer, and a particular fan of two stars, Clark Gable, and the new lead, Humphrey Bogart.
‘Maybe Frank sees himself as some kind of Zorro,’ said Thorson. ‘A womanising adventurer.’
‘Yes, some hero.’
‘Do you think he had something to do with the girl’s murder?’
‘I can’t picture it,’ said Flóvent. ‘He’s a good-for-nothing fool but I don’t believe he knew her. Why would he take his girlfriend to the scene of the crime? Seems a bit far-fetched to me.’
‘Rósamunda stayed away from GIs according to her parents,’ said Thorson.
‘We shouldn’t set too much store by what they say. After all, Ingiborg kept her relationship with Frank secret from her parents. It’s a common problem with families who forbid fraternisation with soldiers. Many of the girls choose to keep quiet about the men they’re seeing.’
‘This dripping’s pretty good, by the way.’
‘Don’t you have it in Canada?’
‘No, isn’t it uniquely Icelandic?’
‘Probably. How are you enjoying life in the army?’
‘It’s fine. Though I’m counting the days till the war’s over and I can head on home.’
‘Anybody waiting for you there?’ Flóvent had never touched on personal matters before in his conversations with Thorson and hoped he hadn’t overstepped the mark.