The Mistake Read online

  ‘Maybe he does have some kind of condition that gives him blind spots.’

  ‘Blind spots? What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘You know, like the places you can’t quite see in your wing mirrors. You know they’re there but you’ve got no actual proof that they’re empty so you’ve just got to put your faith in the fact that they are.’

  ‘That’s great, Björn. Any other news for me?’

  ‘The lady who gave us the initial identification of the victim had a spare key for the victim’s flat so we’ve been able to get in there to have a look around too.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Nothing. The place was clean, like spotless.’

  ‘Who had the key?’

  ‘The upstairs neighbour, Adolfína Hallsdóttir. A retired psychiatric nurse.’

  ‘Okay. Let her know I’ll be wanting to speak to her later. I’m going to be here for a while but it seems as if we may have hit a dead end for the time being.’

  ‘Nothing is ever as simple as we’d like it to be, is it?’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  Grímur sighed as he stirred two full teaspoons of sugar into his coffee. He ambled back to the interview room where Nína was busy making notes on one of her many pads. Gunnar Atli looked less stressed than he had a few minutes earlier which probably had something to do with having a lawyer who could do his talking for him now. Maybe Kjartan had been right. Maybe it wasn’t as fair as it could be. Nína finished her note-making and turned to Grímur.

  ‘My client has a few things he would like me to communicate to you.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Firstly, he has a serious psychological condition which is why he can’t remember what happened just before he was arrested. He has prescribed medication for his condition but stopped taking it recently possibly causing the black-outs to return. We need to get him his pills as soon as possible so he can start taking them again. And secondly, he would like to reiterate that he had nothing to do with the girl’s death. The two of them were nothing more than the most casual of acquaintances, they lived on the same street, end of story. He says this is all a misunderstanding and that someone else is responsible for her death.’

  Nína looked up from her pad to indicate she was done. Grímur looked at Gunnar Atli who was now studying the table surface in front of him.

  ‘Okay, I’ll arrange for someone to get your medication for you. Where is it?’

  ‘It’s on the shelf below my bathroom mirror. There’s three containers, I’ll need them all.’

  ‘And then you’ll remember what you’ve forgotten?’

  ‘It doesn’t quite work that way. It’s going to take a few days for the levels of the drugs to build up in my system again. Until then I don’t think I should be answering any more of your questions, and chances are I won’t regain any lost memories.’

  ‘We have a girl in the city morgue, do you understand that? I need answers and pills or no pills you’re going to give them to me.’

  Grímur picked up his phone and told Björn what he needed brought down to the station. Once he was done with the call he folded his arms and stared across the table at his suspect.

  ‘How well did you know this girl, Bella?’

  ‘She lived just up the road from me.’

  ‘We know that already. That’s not what I asked.’

  ‘Just to say hello to. I’d see her on the street sometimes.’

  ‘Nothing more than that? You never went out for coffee together, the movies, spent the night together, that sort of thing?’

  ‘That sort of thing? No, nothing like that. How long will it take for my pills to get here?’

  ‘They’ll be here soon. If they’re so important, why did you stop taking them?’

  ‘It was a kind of experiment.’

  ‘Is that a good idea? Doctors don’t normally prescribe those drugs so their patients can decide for themselves whether to take them or not. You’re not a doctor are you?’

  ‘You have no idea what they’re like, they cloud everything to the point where you don’t even know yourself any more. It’s like walking through a fog where you can’t feel happy and you can’t feel sad; it’s like being trapped in a cold, grey soup.’

  ‘Have you ever been in trouble with the police before?’

  ‘I was in a car accident years ago if you call that trouble.’

  ‘I noticed you walking with a little difficulty before, when we brought you into the station. Is that how you got your limp?’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘Why? What’s it got to do with anything now?’

  ‘I’m a curious guy and I’d like you to answer my questions, that’s what it’s got to do with anything now.’

  ‘It was just before Christmas nine years ago. We were heading out of town on holiday.’

  ‘We? Who’s ‘we’?’

  ‘Me and my girlfriend, Nanna.’

  ‘Okay, and then what happened?’

  ‘I lost control of the car and rolled it.’

  ‘Were you badly hurt? You must have been to get a limp like that.’

  ‘I broke my leg in five places, that’s how I got the limp.’

  ‘How about Nanna? Was she hurt?’

  ‘She was killed. She went through the windscreen and didn’t survive the impact. Is that what you want to know? I still don’t see what this has to do with Bella.’

  ‘Probably nothing but like I said I’m a curious guy, some people think that’s why I became a detective. I saw a photograph in a frame in your flat today when the forensic guys went in for a look. Was that a photograph of Nanna?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s Nanna.’

  ‘You know who she reminded me of?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Bella. She looked a lot like Bella, don’t you think? I mean, if you ignored the fact that she’d dyed her hair recently, they’d look almost exactly the same.’

  ‘I don’t know, would they?’

  ‘After your crash, you spent some time in Kleppspítali?’

  ‘Yeah. Almost eight years.’

  ‘Seven years and ten months. That’s pretty much all of your twenties gone, just like that. You must have been pretty angry about something for it to take that long to get it all out of your system. Is that why you cut her face up like that?’

  Gunnar Atli was about to respond when Nína cut him off with a swift movement of her hand.

  ‘Now I don’t see what this is all about. Are you going somewhere with this, Grímur? Or do you not remember my client stating that he had nothing to do with the girl’s death? You appear to have the two incidents confused. I’m sure a car accident all those years ago has nothing at all to do with what we’re here to discuss today.’

  ‘I was just thinking out loud, that’s all. Seven years and ten months is a long time to spend in a psychiatric hospital. I bet you there’s a story there somewhere.’

  #5

  The first thing Kjartan had to do once he was out of the morgue was call Helga and tell her that he’d seen Bella, it was definitely her and their little girl was dead. Helga had taken it badly even though any other outcome would have been unlikely at best.

  Today would now and for evermore be remembered as the day their world fell apart.

  He hung up feeling doubly exhausted after his early start but there was work to do and he meant to do it. His first port of call was going to be Aron Steinn and Áskell. He had no idea where to find them but knew Aron Steinn’s parents well enough. He called, told them the terrible news and then asked if he could have an address for their son and the shiftless lay-abouts he called his friends. At first they had been suspicious but after he told them that it was the sort of people their son knew that he was interested in, and not necessarily Aron Steinn himself, they asked no further questions and gave him the address. They did advise him to exercise a little caution and warned that some of Aron Steinn’s friends were more repulsive than bohemia
n ‘if he knew what they meant’. He didn’t have a clue what they meant but thanked them anyway and accepted their condolences. If there was anything they could possibly do…

  When he arrived at the address he thought he’d been given the wrong house number. Or the wrong street. The house was a beautiful single-level dwelling with a huge garage and a brand new Jeep parked out front along with two Harley Davidson motorcycles. He made his way up the driveway and reached out to knock but someone had seen him coming and the door magically swung open for him. The leather-clad woman who opened the door enquired as to what he wanted simply by raising one of her impressively groomed eyebrows.

  ‘I’d like to see Aron Steinn, or Áskell.’

  ‘Do you have a warrant, officer?’

  ‘I’m not with the police. The boys know me.’

  This statement was met with the raising of the same eyebrow all over again, although this time it lifted just a shade higher.

  ‘I didn’t say they liked me, just that they know me. I’m Kjartan, Bella and Abelína’s father. Can you just tell them I’m here and I need to talk to them? It’s important.’

  She looked him up and down one more time and closed the door in his face. There was a brief conversation he couldn’t quite make out inside and then the door opened again. Aron Steinn stood before him in black jeans and a black singlet, all muscles and tattoos and not an ounce of self-doubt to be seen anywhere. He flicked both eyebrows simultaneously at Kjartan as a greeting but didn’t say a word. If he ever moved to Reykjavík the first thing he would need to do was learn the sign-language.

  ‘How are you doing, Aron Steinn?’

  ‘I’m doing okay. I’m really sorry to hear about Bella, it’s just been on the news.’

  ‘They don’t waste any time broadcasting bad news these days, do they? It hasn’t been much of a day so far but I was wondering if you could help me. I thought if I could find out a few things it might make it easier to understand.’

  Aron Steinn relaxed his stance a little so he didn’t look quite so imposing. It wasn’t much of a change though, he still resembled an attack dog on two legs.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘After Bella ran away from home I assume you two would have been near the top of her list of places to visit. Am I right? After all, she didn’t really know anyone else here so I’m assuming she would have looked to you guys for help.’

  ‘She called me from Selfoss, she said she’d hitched that far and couldn’t be bothered trying to get another lift so would I come pick her up.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Sure, but I dropped her off in the city centre. She said she had no intention of living out here in the ’burbs. Apparently she had better things to do than hang out with us lowlifes.’

  ‘And after that?’

  ‘Not a thing. The next I heard about her was ten minutes ago on the television. Looks like she would have been better off out here with us after all.’

  Kjartan looked down at his shoes and wondered again what could have driven her out of their home and into the arms of complete strangers. But he knew he had to steel himself against such moments of inward contemplation. For the time being, at least. This was a time for doing rather than for reflecting. There would be more than enough of that once he was back in Leirubakki with the shattered remains of his family.

  ‘Look, do you want to come in and take a load off for a while?’

  ‘No, I’ll be okay in a minute, this is just all very difficult to take in. I saw her in the morgue this morning, the guy who killed her cut her face open like he was gutting a fish. What sort of a person would do something like that? What sorts of maniacs do we have running loose out there?’

  ‘I don’t know. This world takes all sorts.’

  ‘I’m planning to stay in town for a couple of days until I find out what happened. I’m not convinced the cops know what they’re doing and I want to see that whoever did this gets what he deserves. One way or another, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘What are you saying? Just so we’re clear here.’

  ‘What I’m saying is that if I find this guy before they do I’m going to make sure he never gets the chance to do this again to anyone else.’

  Aron Steinn looked down both sides of his property to see if any of the neighbours were looking his way but the street was as quiet as it always was. He stepped out of the doorway and put his arms around Kjartan in a surprisingly affectionate hug. Kjartan trembled a little in the muscled giant’s embrace as he whispered something in his ear.

  ‘You find this guy and I’ll put a bullet in the motherfucker’s head for you. No questions asked. I loved that little chick like she was my sister.’

  He slowly let go of Kjartan and wiggled a home-made business card into his jacket pocket.

  ‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘Any time, day or night. I’m there.’

  Kjartan nodded and patted his pocket.

  ‘I know you do.’

  ‘You just say the word.’

  Aron Steinn turned around and walked back inside, closing the door behind him. Kjartan was left standing alone on the doorstep wondering what he was getting himself into and not really caring one way or the other. He realised now that he hated himself for not doing enough to prevent her death and he was determined to make up for it. He might not be able to bring her back but he could find who was responsible and even things up a little.

  #6

  Grímur stood in the middle of Gunnar Atli’s living room with his hands on his hips. He hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary on his first visit and wasn’t sure if anything was going to jump out at him this time around either but he wanted a second look all the same. The place was tidy, very tidy for a single guy living on his own. There were no signs of any sort of disturbance, the place looked as it should and that was what worried him. For a guy who was having problems with his medication or lack thereof, there should have been more signs of chaos about the place. Any sign of chaos in fact.

  Gunnar Atli had been reunited with his little pharmaceutical helpers now and was hopefully going to start remembering something helpful soon. He was going to be held until such time as the prosecutor saw fit to charge him or release him, which could be weeks, months or even years under Icelandic law. There was however a strong possibility that his lawyer would succeed in getting him transferred to Kleppspítali for observation rather than allowing him to be held in custody. He had seen the wheels turning in her head as soon as the subject of his medication and his previous stint in Klepp came up. For now though he was on his way to Litla Hraun to spend a while there. Grímur was hoping that his memory might improve a little while he was in prison, maybe even a lot.

  Grímur turned to the one thing that had caught his eye the first time around. The framed photograph of Gunnar Atli and his ex-girlfriend, Nanna. He pulled an evidence bag from his back pocket and carefully took the photo out of its frame. It couldn’t have been taken too long before the crash that had killed her and condemned Gunnar Atli to years of supervised hospitalisation. Whatever had happened, it must have been some crash.

  For now though it was back to basics, all the neighbours who knew either the victim or the alleged attacker needed to be talked to again and even the ones who didn’t. The uniformed officers had taken statements from several of them earlier but they had been fairly basic and hadn’t focused on anything more complicated than what people had heard or seen throughout the night. For the most part that had been nothing even slightly out of the ordinary.

  According to one of the statements there was a fairly alert neighbour directly downstairs from where Grímur was now. The guy’s name was Davið Runar and he was a retired coast guard captain, a man of the sea. If anybody had spotted any odd behaviour around the place of late it would be him. It was a small and quiet street where anything strange would stand out a mile away to the eyes of an experienced navigator. He slipped the photo of the happy couple into his jacket pocket and made his way downstairs.


  His first impressions of Davið Runar were pretty much as he’d expected they would be. Serious, smart as a whip and all business. The sort who wouldn’t have taken any guff during his command on the high seas. He was immediately invited in for coffee and took a seat next to the window in the spotless living room while Davið Runar fixed their drinks in the kitchen. There was a framed insignia from the Icelandic coastguard on the wall with its anchor and chain symbol and its motto: Always Prepared. From the look of Davið Runar it would have been a surprise if too many things had ever caught him off guard in his time. The coffee was soon ready and poured into mugs and then Davið Runar signalled that he was ready for the questions to begin. He took seat directly opposite Grímur and looked him right in the eye.

  ‘As you know there was a serious crime committed nearby last night. A girl’s body was found outside your flat by the man who lives upstairs. Our officers were on the scene immediately because we received an anonymous tip-off but so far we haven’t been able to trace the phone that was used to make the call. That wasn’t you, was it?’

  Davið Runar shook his head and smiled, a not unpleasant smile but serious nonetheless.

  ‘I have no need for that level of secrecy. You would have found me waiting outside with the poor thing if I’d known anything of what was going on.’

  ‘That’s pretty much what I thought. Someone on this street made that call though and I need to know why they didn’t leave a name and why we haven’t been able to trace their phone.’

  ‘Maybe they were just scared.’

  ‘Afraid of whoever killed the girl?’

  ‘Sure, if you were turning someone in who’d just done a thing like that you’d take as many precautions as you could too.’

  ‘I guess I would.’

  ‘Of course you would, you’d be an idiot otherwise.’

  ‘Did you have much to do with your upstairs neighbour?’