Sea of Stone (35 page)

‘And you expect me to interview him?’ said Baldur.

‘We both should, probably,’ said Emil. ‘But I would have thought—’

Baldur’s mobile phone rang. He answered it before it had a chance to ring twice. Emil watched.

‘Yes… Yes… Yes…’ The corners of Baldur’s mouth pointed even further downwards. ‘You think it’s suicide? Don’t touch anything. I’ll be right over.’

Baldur looked up to Emil and gave him a quick, joyless grin. ‘Villi was found floating in Swine Lake. He had been shot once by a rifle fired from close range. The rifle is at the scene. Páll says it looks very much like suicide.’

Emil watched speechless as Vigdís and Baldur grabbed their coats and headed for the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

M
AGNUS HAD BEEN
alone in the cell for two hours, but already he was finding it more difficult than the two days he had spent at Litla-Hraun. His brain was buzzing. Villi had killed Benedikt and his father and probably Hallgrímur too. Ollie was off the hook, yet Magnus still didn’t understand what the hell he and Jóhannes were doing on the Snaefells Peninsula. Magnus himself was still very much on the hook, although he believed he had gone a long way towards persuading Emil that he was innocent.

Ingileif had done her stuff, as he always knew she would. The false confession had achieved its purpose of keeping the focus of the investigation away from Ollie and on to Magnus, but it now turned out that the whole thing had been unnecessary. Magnus would have to be careful how he extricated himself. His attempt to mislead Emil had clearly obstructed the investigation; if Emil chose to make an issue out of it, Magnus would be out of a job in Iceland, and they might not take him back at the homicide unit in Boston after all. At least he hadn’t lied directly to Emil, as had been his first idea; confessing through Ingileif was much less of a sin. And it was easier to claim later that he had lied to his girlfriend than that he had lied to the police. Or at least so he hoped.

He was getting ahead of himself. If the evidence against Villi for Hallgrímur’s murder didn’t stack up, then he would keep his status as prime suspect. He wasn’t out of jail yet.

He heard the sound of heavy footsteps, some wheezing and a key jangling, and the cell door opened. It was Emil himself. They must be short of constables.

‘Magnús. We need to talk. Come on.’

Magnus followed Emil’s wide buttocks on their slow journey up the stairs to the interview room. The detective was puffing heavily and his face was red. He slumped into a chair in the interview room, and Magnus sat opposite him. Magnus noticed that Emil didn’t turn on the recording equipment. That was a serious lapse of procedure, but Magnus assumed Emil knew what he was doing.

‘Things are moving fast,’ said Emil. ‘But I have no idea in which direction.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘Villi has killed himself. Blown out his brains at Swine Lake. Baldur and Vigdís are there now.’

‘Wow,’ said Magnus. ‘Well, that’s an admission of guilt. Did he leave a note?’

‘Not one we have found. We haven’t checked Bjarnarhöfn yet.’

‘So we don’t know whether Villi killed Hallgrímur as well as Benedikt and my father?’

‘Actually, we do,’ said Emil. He was still breathing heavily from the effects of the stairs. ‘He didn’t.’

‘He didn’t?’

‘We have two transactions from his credit card in Reykjavík timed at 8.35 and 11.16. And the camera at Hvalfjördur recorded him leaving the tunnel heading northwards at 12.32, at least an hour after you found your grandfather’s body.’

‘Oh,’ said Magnus. ‘So if it wasn’t Villi and it wasn’t Ollie, who the hell did kill Hallgrímur?’

‘You are the obvious candidate,’ said Emil. ‘And you are still under arrest for that murder. But just for fun, if we assume that it wasn’t you, who else could have killed him?’

‘Just for fun? Is that why the recording equipment is off?’

‘Maybe,’ said Emil. ‘I think I can use all the help I can get.’

Magnus stared hard at Emil. He could tell the fat detective’s instinct was that Magnus was innocent, but he also knew he couldn’t admit to it.

Magnus thought.

Emil waited.

‘Have you been to the scene of Villi’s suicide?’ Magnus said eventually.

‘No,’ said Emil.

‘Don’t you think you should go?’ said Magnus. ‘And take me with you?’

Keflavík Airport was as chaotic as it had been just over twenty-four hours earlier when Ingileif had left it. Once again at Logan she had blagged her way on to an overbooked departing flight, taking a seat that had become available at the last minute. She had at least slept for a few hours on the aeroplane.

She was very pleased with what she had done for Magnus. She was confident that Vigdís would have got the message through to him at Litla-Hraun. She just hoped it would make a difference.

Perhaps they had let him out already? It was a bit much to hope for, especially given what she had told the police about his admission that he had killed his grandfather. But things seemed to be going her way. She still didn’t know what he was up to with that confession. She was sure it wasn’t true; she just had to trust that he knew what he was doing. She was desperate to see him, wherever he was.

She called Vigdís’s number.

‘Hi, I can’t talk much now. What is it?’ said Vigdís.

‘Is Magnús still in jail?’

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. Then Vigdís said one word: ‘Stykkishólmur.’

Ingileif realized immediately that Vigdís couldn’t let whoever she was with overhear that she was talking about her colleague. ‘You mean Magnús is in Stykkishólmur now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is he free?’

‘No. Not yet. Where are you?’

‘I’m back in Iceland.’

‘That was quick. I’ve got to go.’

‘OK, Vigdís. Thanks.’

Ingileif rang off and made her way to the car park. Her friend María wouldn’t mind if Ingileif borrowed her car for another day, she was sure. Because she was going to take it up to Stykkishólmur.

Vigdís hurriedly put her phone away and avoided the quizzical glance of her boss standing next to her.

They were at Swine Lake, and Vigdís had just finished erecting the tape around the primary crime scene. The body had been dragged in from the lake and laid on a plastic sheet, but a reddish brown stain was still visible in the water where blood had spread out from the mess of soggy tissue that was once Vilhjálmur Hallgrímsson’s head. The doctor, not Ingvar this time but his less experienced colleague from the hospital, Íris, had pronounced him dead. It didn’t take any specialist training in forensic medicine to do that. Edda and her team were hard at work checking the area immediately around Villi’s hired Peugeot. They were working against time; rain was on its way, and it would be impossible to protect the whole area. One of them was erecting a tent to prevent rain falling on the already soaked body.

‘Who was that?’ Baldur asked.

‘Árni,’ said Vigdís, keeping her gaze away from Baldur and on to the tight black clouds to the west. ‘It was nothing.’

Her mobile rang again. She checked the display: Árni. She glanced at Baldur.

‘Hello again,’ she said.

‘Again?’ said Árni, perplexed.

‘What have you got now?’

‘I spoke to Aníta,’ Árni said, and proceeded to tell Vigdís about the farmer’s wife’s confused statement, and the postcard that was under Sylvía’s bed.

Baldur was watching her closely, and when she had finished, Vigdís relayed what Árni had told her.

‘Why didn’t he tell you all that the first time he called?’ Baldur asked.

‘I was wondering that myself,’ said Vigdís. ‘Sometimes I don’t understand Árni.’

‘Sometimes?’ snorted Baldur, and went over to talk to the doctor.

Magnus recognized the spot from his childhood. A strip of volcanic sand about fifty metres wide lay between the high wall of lava and the lake. A group of police vehicles were parked on the track from the road above the lake. Farther on, just before the track met the volcanic sand, stood a small white vehicle and, a short distance from that, a forensic tent. People were milling around, most of them in forensic overalls.

The sky and the lake were a dark grey. It was about to rain.

Emil parked his car next to the others and led Magnus along the marked corridor towards the crime scene. Magnus was glad to see that despite the presumption of suicide, they were following the proper procedures for a murder.

‘Hey, Magnús!’ Vigdís grinned as she approached him. ‘Great to see you. Have they released you?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Magnus, returning her grin. It was good to see an unequivocally friendly face.

‘I thought Magnús might be able to give us some help,’ said Emil.

‘Good idea,’ said Vigdís. ‘Do you want to see the body, Magnús?’

‘Hold on, Vigdís,’ said Magnus. They were standing at the perimeter of the primary crime scene, about twenty metres from the edge of the lake. ‘Is Baldur around?’

‘He’s up there, with a hiker who saw Villi’s car earlier.’ Vigdís pointed up towards the frozen lava wall at the top of which stood two figures.

‘He won’t be happy with me poking around,’ Magnus said. ‘I don’t want to get you into any more trouble than you are in already. Just describe the scene to me.’

‘OK,’ said Vigdís. ‘The body was floating about twenty metres from the shore when we got here. You can see the rifle there; no one has touched it yet.’

About two metres from the lake edge, a bolt-action hunting rifle lay pointing away from the water towards Villi’s car.

‘Kolbeinn’s?’

‘Same model. Ballistics will confirm it. But for now we can assume it was Kolbeinn’s.’

‘Any casings?’

‘One, at about the point you would expect it to be had the rifle been pointing towards the lake. No bullet found as yet, but that’s hardly surprising. It will be out there somewhere.’ Vigdís waved vaguely over the water.

‘So the idea is Villi pointed the gun at himself, pressed the trigger and the gun recoiled away from him?’

‘And he fell backwards into the lake.’

‘Where was the wound?’

‘It just about blew his head off.’

‘Any gunshot residue on his hands?’

‘None that we have seen yet. But it could have been washed off in the water. Edda thinks once she gets a close look at his hands, she should find some traces.’

‘And the body is in the tent?’

Vigdís nodded.

‘Hi, Magnús. I’m glad they have finally let you go.’ Magnus turned to see the tall figure of Edda approaching him in forensic overalls, smiling, her short blonde hair hidden beneath a hairnet.

‘He’s still under arrest,’ said Emil. ‘But I thought he might be able to help us.’

Edda’s smile slipped from her lips. ‘All right,’ she said, carefully. Magnus couldn’t blame her caution.

‘Vigdís told me how they found the scene,’ he said. ‘Anything to suggest it wasn’t suicide?’

‘No,’ said Edda, but Magnus detected a touch of hesitation in her voice. ‘Can’t see any gunshot residue on the hands, but maybe I just need a closer look. Also, you would expect less with a rifle than a handgun.’

‘What about blood spatter?’

‘There is none,’ Edda said. ‘I suppose it must all have been blasted backwards into the water.’

‘Hmm. You would have thought something would have gone sideways on to the sand.’

‘Yes. You would,’ said Edda. ‘We’ve looked and haven’t found anything yet. Maybe it didn’t.’

‘Any sign of anyone else at the scene?’

‘No. There are signs of just one person moving around here. They all look like the victim’s footprints.’

‘Do you have a photograph of the victim?’

‘Yes,’ Edda said. ‘I took my own. Here.’

She pulled out a digital camera, flicked through the images on the display at the back, and then handed it to Magnus. There were several of the body floating in the water, and then of what remained of Villi’s head. A mess of bloody pulp. He was unrecognizable.

Magnus winced. He had seen suicides before. Shots in the head from close range were never pretty.

Then he looked again. The bottom right-hand jaw was still intact. ‘Was the entry wound to the left, do you think?’

‘Yes. The left cheek, or possibly temple.’

Magnus was silent. Vigdís, Emil and Edda all watched him.

‘Villi was right-handed,’ Magnus said eventually.

‘How do you know that?’ asked Emil.

‘His daughter told me.’

Edda frowned. ‘But this is a rifle, not a handgun.’

‘Still applies,’ said Magnus.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure. I had one of these three years ago in Boston. You can look it up in the literature.’

‘What are you talking about?’ asked Vigdís.

‘It is very rare for a right-handed suicide to shoot himself in the left temple,’ said Edda, who had been trained in forensics at the FBI Academy at Quantico. ‘At least with a handgun. Think about it. But Magnus claims it is also rare with a long-barrelled weapon.’

‘That’s right,’ Magnus said.

They turned at the sound of a vehicle speeding across the sand towards them. Baldur jumped out.

‘What the hell is
he
doing here?’

‘I thought it would be useful to bring Magnús to the crime scene,’ Emil said. ‘And I think it has been.’

‘Why?’ Baldur said.

‘Magnús has doubts that this was a suicide.’

‘Of course he does,’ Baldur sneered. ‘And does he say why?’

‘Villi was right-handed and shot himself in the left temple.’

‘So what?’ said Baldur. ‘If the victim was shot by someone else, how come we can’t see any signs of anyone else at the scene? Answer me that?’

Baldur stared at Magnus. It was a good question. Magnus shrugged.

‘Take him away, Emil. We don’t have any time to waste. It’s going to rain in a moment and then all the evidence will be washed away.’

‘OK. Sorry to get in your way, Baldur,’ said Magnus in as conciliatory tone as he could muster.

Edda looked at him thoughtfully. Magnus knew he had sown doubts.

‘Baldur is an arsehole,’ said Emil as they walked back towards Emil’s car. ‘Always was. So you think it might not be suicide?’