‘Women like me... we can sniff it out,’ she said and smiled her crooked smile. ‘We sense it straight away. I’m right, aren’t I?’
‘What?’
‘About what you are, who you are. You’re not interested in women, are you? Never have been.’
Thorson was left momentarily floundering.
‘Is that what this is about?’ she said, coming a step closer. ‘Did he get under your skin, there in his smithy? He’s not a bad-looking fellow for a boy like you.’
Belatedly it dawned on Thorson what she was insinuating. She saw him flinch, though he tried to hide it, and she knew that she’d touched a nerve.
‘You hinted didn’t you?’ he said. ‘You hinted that you could get rid of your fiancé if the two of them went out fishing together and he came back alone?’
‘Why won’t you answer me?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you want to talk about it? Are you embarrassed?’
‘Women like you,’ Thorson said, ‘sniff out nothing but trouble. I get that you wanted to escape the countryside. And that you like soldiers — that they seem like your ticket out of poverty and a life of drudgery. I get that you want to be independent. Lots of women feel the same. But they don’t all go about it like you. They don’t need to play any little games. All they need is to be themselves. Women like you...’
Thorson didn’t finish the sentence. He’d said what he’d come to say. It wasn’t for him to judge her, and he’d already begun to regret his words, even if Vera had been needling him. But then he had deliberately provoked her. He had come here to get a better sense of who she was, to discover what she was capable of. He had got his answers.
‘If you and Wiggins had something to do with Eyvindur’s death, we’ll find out.’
‘We had nothing to do with it. Can’t you get that into your thick skull? Don’t you dare try and pin it on me. Don’t you dare!’
‘OK,’ said Thorson. ‘We’ll see what Wiggins has to say, then you and I can have another little chat.’
‘Get the hell out of here,’ she snapped. Turning her back on him, she started pegging up the pristine washing again.
44
One of the welders at Daníel’s Shipyard recognised the description of Jósep. The man pushed his goggles up on his forehead and told Flóvent that Jósep sometimes came round to the shipyard to scrounge a coffee. He was always terribly polite but not very talkative. The welder was glad of a break and happy to tell Flóvent what he could about Jósep, saying he didn’t like to see a man that young in the gutter. He was a harmless creature who used to pass through on his way to or from the centre of town. His life consisted of nothing but aimless loitering. The man pulled down his goggles and went back to welding his joint.
The workers at the newly opened shipyard couldn’t keep up with the flood of orders for repairs and refitting. Flóvent contemplated the grey British and American naval vessels anchored in the outer harbour; they were interspersed with Icelandic freighters and fishing vessels, everything from small open motorboats to trawlers. The Icelandic fleet had not emerged unscathed from the dangerous task of plying the oceans in wartime. U-boat attacks were becoming increasingly common and that spring dozens of Icelandic sailors had lost their lives as one boat after another was hit. Most recently the freighter Hekla had been torpedoed off the southern tip of Greenland on her way to America, taking fourteen men down with her. Every time a ship left port people knew the voyage could end in disaster. Flóvent had read that, following the sinking of the Hekla, Icelandic crews were insisting that all trips should be made under the protection of an Allied convoy.
As he walked along the side of the shipyard, towards Grandi, a British motorcycle unit passed him with a great roar of engines, vanishing in the direction of the town centre. A little further on he came to a ramshackle bait shed where a small, heavily bearded young man, wearing a much-patched winter coat but no hat, was bending over a tattered blanket. He had been trying to beat the dirt out of it by banging it against the shed wall. Flóvent asked if he was Jósep. The young man was startled and reluctant to confirm his identity. He seemed wary of talking to Flóvent, perhaps under the impression that he was the owner of the shed. He relaxed a little when it became clear that he was mistaken. Flóvent explained that he just wanted a little chat and they spoke for a while about the ships in the harbour and the dangers of sailing these days. The talk turned to Daníel’s Shipyard, and Jósep said he had friends there. Flóvent asked if he was hoping for a job at the yard, but Jósep said he hadn’t given the matter any thought.
‘But why... How do you know who I am?’ he asked, when it finally dawned on him that Flóvent was addressing him by name.
Flóvent explained as succinctly as he could that he was from the police and had come to speak to Jósep as part of his enquiries into the death of a man called Eyvindur, whom Jósep might remember from his school days. Flóvent noted the tramp’s alarm when he said ‘police’ and hastened to reassure him. He just wanted to ask if Jósep could be of any help to them in their hunt for Eyvindur’s killer.
‘No, no chance,’ said Jósep. ‘I know nothing about it. Nothing at all.’
‘You know he’s dead, don’t you?’
‘Yes, yes, but I know nothing about it. Honest.’
‘When did you last see Eyvindur? Was it a long time ago?’
‘I don’t remember,’ said Jósep. ‘Can’t help you. Can’t help you at all. Why don’t you leave me alone? I sleep here sometimes, but I’m not in anyone’s way and—’
‘It’s all right, Jósep. I’m not here to arrest you,’ said Flóvent, seeing how nervous the man was. ‘I only want to talk to you. You’re not in trouble. Really, you have nothing to fear. It’s just that I spoke to Munda, who offers you meals from time to time, and she told me you were planning to pay her back soon for all her kindness. Can you tell me how you’re planning to do that? Have you got a job? Where are you going to get the money to pay Munda?’
‘Did Munda say that?’
‘Yes.’
‘I haven’t got any money,’ said Jósep firmly. ‘I’ve never had any money. I don’t know what you’re on about. Please, mate, just leave me alone.’
‘The thing is, Eyvindur said he was expecting to come into some money as well,’ said Flóvent, ‘but no one knows where it was supposed to come from. Can you tell me anything about that?’
‘No, I can’t help you.’
‘When you last met Eyvindur, did he tell you about the experiments you were involved in at school? Do you remember?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Do you remember the experiments?’
‘No,’ said Jósep flatly.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t know which experiments I’m talking about?’
‘I can’t remember any... any experiments. I don’t remember.’
Seeing that he wasn’t getting anywhere, Flóvent decided to take another approach, though it went against the grain. All he wanted was for Jósep to cooperate.
‘You’re not making it easy for me, are you, Jósep?’ he said. ‘I thought we could have a chat just the two of us, but now I might have to take you down to Pósthússtræti and put you in a cell. See if you’re more talkative there.’
Jósep didn’t react.
‘It seems as though Eyvindur heard about these experiments from one of your old schoolmates, Felix Lunden. Remember him?’
But Jósep had stopped cooperating altogether now that the threat of being thrown in the cells hung in the air.
‘His father, Rudolf Lunden, was in charge of the experiments. And a school nurse was involved too. Maybe you remember her. She was called Brynhildur Hólm. The headmaster, Ebeneser, was also mixed up in the affair. Did Eyvindur tell you all this?’