“What did he mean by that?”
“It was something he was going to sell. I don’t know what it was. He didn’t tell me. Just said he was expecting loads of money, or a lot of money, he never said loads. He never talked like that. Always spoke polite and used classy words. He was always really courteous. A good bloke. Never did me any harm. Always paid. I know loads of worse people than him. Sometimes he just wanted to talk to me. He was lonely, or at least he said he was. Told me I was his only friend.”
“Did he tell you anything about his past?”
“No.”
“Nothing about being a child star once?”
“No. A child star? At what?”
“Did you see a knife in his room that could have come from the hotel kitchen?”
“Yes, I saw a knife in there but I don’t know where it came from. When I went to see him he was picking away at his Santa suit. He said he had to get a new one for next Christmas”
“And he didn’t have any money besides what he paid you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Did you rob him?”
“No.”
“Did you take half a million that was in his room?”
“Haifa million? Did he have half a million?!”
“I’m told you always need money. It’s obvious how you get it. There are people you owe money. They’ve threatened your family…”
Reynir glared at his sister.
“Don’t look at her, look at me. Gudlaugur had money in his room. More than he owed you. Maybe he’d sold part of his goldmine. You saw the money. You wanted more. You did things for him that you thought you ought to be paid more for. He refused, you argued, you grabbed the knife and tried to stab him, but he held you off until you managed to sink the knife into his chest and kill him. You took the money…”
“You tosser,” Reynir hissed. “What fucking bollocks!”
“ … and since then you’ve been smoking hash and shooting up or whatever it is you—”
“You fucking creep!” Reynir shouted.
“Go on with the story,” Osp called out. “Tell him what you told me. Tell him everything!”
“Everything about what?” Erlendur said.
“He asked me if I’d give him one before he went up to the Christmas party,” Reynir said. “He said he didn’t have much time but had money and he’d pay me well. But when we were starting that woman burst in on us.”
“That woman?”
“Yes.”
“What woman?”
“The one who caught us.”
“Tell him,” Erlendur heard Osp say behind his back “Tell him who it was!”
“What woman are you talking about?”
“We forgot to lock the door and suddenly the door opened and she burst in on us.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know who it was. Some woman.”
“And what happened?”
“I don’t know. I buggered off. She shouted something at him and I legged it.”
“Why didn’t you give us this information straight away?”
“I avoid the cops. There’s all kinds of people after me and if they know I’m talking to the cops they’ll think I’m grassing and they’ll get me for it”
“Who was this woman who caught you? What did she look like?”
“I didn’t really notice. I buggered off. He was mortified. Pushed me away and shouted and totally lost it. He seemed to be terrified of her. Scared shitless.”
“What did he shout?” Erlendur asked.
“Steffi.”
“What?”
“Steffi. That was all I heard. Steffi. He called her Steffi and he was scared shitless of her.”
32
She was standing outside the door to his room with her back to him. Erlendur stopped and watched her for a moment, and saw how she had changed since the first time he saw her, storming into the hotel with her father. Now she was just a tired and weary middle-aged woman who still lived with her crippled father in the house that had always been her home. For reasons unknown to him, this woman had come to the hotel and murdered her brother.
It was as if she sensed his presence in the corridor, because suddenly she turned round and looked at him. He could not decipher her thoughts from the expression on her face. All he knew was that she was the person he had been looking for since he first went to the hotel and saw Santa sitting in a pool of his own blood.
She stood still by the door and said nothing until he was standing right next to her.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” she said. “If it makes any difference.”
Erlendur thought she had come to see him concerning the lie about her friend and felt the time had come to tell him the truth. He opened the door and she walked in ahead of him, went to the window and watched the snow.
“They forecast it wouldn’t snow this Christmas,” she said
“Are you ever called Steffi for short?” he asked.
“When I was small,” she said, still looking out of the window.
“Did you brother call you Steffi?”
“Yes, he did,” she said. “Always. And I always called him Gulli. Why do you ask?”
“Why were you at this hotel five days before your brother’s death?”
Stefania gave a deep sigh.
“I know I shouldn’t have lied to you.”
“Why did you come?”
“It was to do with his records. We thought we were entitled to some of them. We knew he had quite a few copies, probably all the ones that didn’t sell when they came out, and we wanted a share if he was planning to sell.”
“How did he acquire the copies?”
“Dad had them and kept them at home in Hafnarfjordur, and when Gudlaugur moved out he took the boxes with him. He said they belonged to him. To him alone.”
“How did you know he was planning to sell them?”
Stefania hesitated.
“I also lied about Henry Wapshott,” she said. “I do know him. Not very well, but I should have told you about him. Didn’t he tell you he met us?”
“No,” Erlendur said. “He has a number of problems. Is anything true that you’ve told me up to now?”
She did not answer him.
“Why should I believe what you’re telling me now?”
Stefania watched the snow falling to earth and was remote, as if she had vanished back into a life she led long ago when she knew no lies and everything was the truth, fresh and pure.
“Stefania?” Erlendur said.
“They didn’t argue about his singing,” she said suddenly. “When Dad fell down the stairs. It wasn’t about singing. Hurt’s the last and the biggest lie.”
“You mean when they had a fight on the landing?”
“Do you know what the kids called him at school?”
“I believe I do,” Erlendur said.
“They called him The Little Princess.”
“Because he sang in the choir and was a sissy and—”
“Because they caught him wearing one of Mum’s dresses,” Stefania interrupted him.
She turned away from the window.
“It was after she died. He missed her terribly, especially when he wasn’t a choirboy any more but just a normal boy with a normal voice. Dad didn’t know, but I did. When Dad was out he sometimes put on Mum’s jewellery and sometimes he tried on her dresses, stood in front of the mirror, even put on make-up. And once, it was in the summer, some boys walked past the house and saw him. Some were in his class. They peeped in through the living-room window. They used to do that sometimes because we were considered odd. They started to laugh and jeer, mercilessly. After that he was considered an absolute freak at school. The kids started calling him The Little Princess.”
Stefania paused.
“I thought he just missed Mum,” she continued. “That it was his way of getting close to her, wearing her clothes and putting on her jewellery. I didn’t think he had unnatural urges. But it turned out otherwise.”
“Unnatural urges?” Erlendur said. “Is that how you regard it? Your brother was a homosexual. Haven’t you been able to forgive him for that? Is that why you had no contact with him for all those years?”
“He was very young when our father caught him with a boy. I knew he had his friend in his room, I thought they were doing their homework together. Dad came home unexpectedly to look for something and when he walked into Gudlaugur’s room he saw them doing something abominable. He wouldn’t tell me what it was. When I came out the other boy was running down the stairs, Dad and Gulli were on the landing shouting at each other, and I saw Gulli give him a shove. He lost his balance, fell down the stairs and never stood up again.”