The Last Refuge (39 page)

‘Nothing. What do you mean?’

She was marching on again, glaring at me side-on as she walked, puffing with the exertion. ‘I have known Broddi Tunheim for a long time. I have been to his house for dinner and he to mine. Many times. But now he cannot look me in the eye and tell me the truth. Like you. So what is going on?’

‘He, um . . .’ A complete denial was going to get me nowhere. ‘He is taking an interest in the case.’

She laughed in my face. ‘No shit? There is a murder in Torshavn and Broddi “takes an interest in it”? Ha. You do not know the man. He has probably thought of nothing else since the murder. He is . . . obsessed. He might look like he does not care, but it will make him crazy that the Danes are in charge. John . . . Broddi is my friend and you are my client, but . . . be careful with him. He is very . . . tricky.’

‘I’ve learned that already.’

Elin closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘Oh, my God. I do not want to know. I really do not want to know. Okay, I’m going this way. Think on what I said, and stay in touch. My God, why could I not just get a nice traffic case?’

She veered right towards town without another word, just a despairing wave of her arm without turning round. I stood and let her go, floored by the news. A witness. Maybe a liar.
Surely
a liar.

There were people I had to speak to, although I had no idea where any of them were. Still, these islands were just seventy miles by forty-six miles. They couldn’t be far.

I found Nicoline in the makeshift incident room outside Tinganes. I wasn’t stupid enough to go inside, knowing the implications it would have for her. Instead I stood in a doorway opposite until she came out. The sergeant, Kielstrup, emerged and I had to slide back further into the shadows to avoid being seen by him.

When Nicoline came out of the white Portakabin a minute or two later, I stepped out into her eyeline and she saw me immediately. Her mouth dropped slightly but she quickly caught herself, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed, before angrily shooing me back into the doorway and signalling that she would be there in one minute.

‘What do you want?’ she hissed at me when she came over. ‘I can’t talk to you here.’

‘Then meet me somewhere else. The old fort. You know it?’

‘Of course I do. I know every inch of this bloody place now. Okay, go. I will be there as soon as I can.’

The fort at Skansin was just a few minutes’ walk away on a plateau near the ferry port. Its grass-covered slopes also contained the lighthouse and four old cannons, two of them remnants of a British warship. I went round to the far side of the guardhouse, facing Nolsoy and away from the eyes of the town. I had waited there just five minutes when Nicoline arrived.

Her waterproof jacket was zipped up to the neck to keep out the chill of the rising wind, and her hair, although tied back, rose and fell on the breeze. ‘What the hell is it? Are you okay?’

‘There is something I need to talk to you about.’

She frowned. ‘It had better be important, for you to come to the incident room. Are you crazy?’

‘Maybe. But there is something in it for you too.’

She stared hard. ‘Okay. I’m listening.’

I took a breath, not sure how this was going to be received. ‘I hear that Nymann has a witness who says he is going to testify against me. Saying that I spoke about getting Aron Dam. Hurting him.’

‘You are joking me, right? You want me to get involved in that? Come on, Callum. That is asking way too much. Jesus.’

‘I need to know.’

‘I do not need this aggravation. And I do not know who this witness is. Yes, I know Nymann has someone. He is walking around, what is the expression you use, like a dog with two cocks, so sure of himself. But I do not know who the witness is. And even if I did . . .’

‘You
know
I didn’t do it. I did not kill Aron Dam. Right? So if Nymann has a witness saying that I threatened to kill him then someone is lying and I could go to jail for a murder I didn’t commit. Help me, Nicoline.
Please
.’

She half-turned away, rubbing at her face. ‘Jesus. You ask a lot. This is my job we are talking about. The job I love.’

‘Well . . . what if I might be able to get you the murder weapon?’ Nicoline’s jaw dropped. ‘What?’

‘I’m not saying I can. Not definitely. But I might be able to. If I can, can I get it to you without anyone having to know where you got it from?’

‘Yes. I mean, I think so. You are full of surprises. You think you can get it?’

‘You think you can find out who the witness is?’

She held her head in her hands before answering. ‘Do you know why I always wanted to be a forensic investigator?’

‘Because you watched
CSI
when you were a kid. You told me.’

She shook her head. ‘No. That is what got me
interested
. But it is not what made me want to do it. I wanted to be a CSI like them because they got to the
truth
. That is what evidence gives you. The truth. I wanted to be the one who could prove who the guilty person was. And who the innocent one was. I will help you. But if I get into trouble then I will cut your balls off. Understand?’

‘Thanks, Nicoline. I appreciate it.’

‘Where the hell are you going to get the murder weapon from? You know what . . . I am not sure I want to know.’

‘No, you don’t. How are you going to get the name of the witness? From Nymann?’

She shook her head, smiling. ‘No, that asshole will not tell me. But Kielstrup, he will.’

A gust of wind surged round the point and hurled itself at both of us, making Nicoline stagger to the side.

‘Here.’ She pulled a card from the rear pocket of her jeans. ‘My number. Use that if you need to get in touch with me. I don’t want you appearing at the incident room again. It would not be good for either of us.’

I nodded. ‘Okay, thanks. I’ll let you get back to work. But one last thing. Did you think about the DNA database? How you might use it to find a match for the evidence you got at the murder scene?’

She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘Yes, I did. And do not think I don’t know that you set that up to plant that whole thing in my head.’

‘Well?’

‘Well, I have spoken to people to see if it can be done. They are not very happy, but . . . it is possible. We are going to have to go very high up, though, and it may take time. But if we get the go-ahead then, yes, we will find our killer.’

Chapter 60

I had waited outside Karis’s flat for two hours, sitting in the Peugeot, before she finally arrived. I gave her fifteen minutes before I went to the door.

She answered my knock almost immediately but her face fell when she saw it was me. Not discontent, more surprise. Something else, too . . . worry. She’d been crying again, that was obvious. With a half-step forward, she recovered, throwing her arms round me and hugging me. ‘Come in.’

She led me by the hand up to the studio and we both sank onto the sofa, but she immediately bounced to her feet again. ‘Do you want a drink, John? Do I still call you John?’

‘No, I’m fine. And yes, call me John.’

She looked disappointed that I had declined her offer. ‘I’m having one. Join me?’

‘Okay.’

She came back with two full glasses of white wine and a tiny tremor in her hands. This time she eased herself down beside me and took a generous mouthful from her glass. ‘Cheers,’ she toasted breezily. Too breezily.

I tipped my glass to hers and took a sip at the chilled wine.

‘Karis, we need to talk.’

‘Do we?’ She sounded far from enthusiastic.

‘Yes. We have to. I’m in serious trouble and maybe you can help me out of it. I could go to jail for the rest of my life for Aron’s murder. You do realize that?’

Another large gulp, this time with her eyes closed. ‘Yes.’

‘There’s the question you didn’t ask me. The one you started to ask but didn’t finish. You know the question I mean?’

All the sparkle had gone from her. The feistiness and vitality that had once been so irresistible had disappeared. Instead she just nodded dumbly.

‘Don’t you think you should ask me that question? It would seem the sensible thing to do. After all, you would maybe be in danger if I had done it.’

She tipped her glass back, leaving only an inch or so of wine in it. ‘I need a refill.’ She began to push herself out of the chair but I caught her wrist. ‘No. Stay. You don’t need any more.’

Some of the old fire returned to her eyes and she angrily wrenched free of my grasp. ‘I don’t? You don’t tell me when I need a drink or not.’

‘Ask me the question.’

‘John, I . . .’

‘Ask me.’

I could see tears forming in her eyes. Bitter little tears of fear.

‘Okay. Did you kill Aron?’

‘No. No, I did not.’

She just nodded. No relief, no doubt, no ‘thank God’, no challenge, no more tears. Just a nod of acceptance.

‘I didn’t kill him, but I might still go to prison for it. There is a very real chance of that. Is that what you want to happen?’

‘Of course not! John, how could you think that?
Reyvarhol! Asshole!
I really do need more wine. Don’t try to stop me.’

I didn’t. Maybe the wine would work. Loosen her up. The danger was in overdoing it.

She took a long time refilling her glass. I could just see her through the kitchen door, standing still, a hand over her eyes. When she came back they were redder.

‘Okay, let’s talk,’ she sighed. ‘I do not want you to go to jail. You must know that.’

‘Well, to stop that from happening, I have to find out who
did
kill Aron. And why.’

‘What? But that is not your job. That is the job of the police.’

‘The police still think it was me. They are still looking for evidence to convict me. They aren’t looking for anyone else, Karis. Just me.’

Her eyes closed as she drank, lips clamped tight to the glass.

‘If you can tell me anything at all that might help then I need you to do it. Why someone would want Aron killed. Who else might have a motive.’

She looked for answers in the glass, tears running down her face again and sliding into the wine, causing salty little pools to form on the liquid’s surface.

‘Like who?’ The voice was a little girl’s, tiny in a big world. Keeping from her that I knew what Aron had done made me feel like a complete bastard. ‘Tell me about Aron. Who hated him? Who did he upset? Someone in the fishing industry maybe? Or someone in town? He always seemed so aggressive, to me. Could he have pushed someone too far?’

‘I . . . don’t know. Maybe, yes. He was always arguing with people. He liked to . . . push people around, I guess. But I don’t know . . .’

The wine was going down fast and working faster. There was a definite slur to her words, a catch in her voice. I was going to have to push her further.

‘You can’t think of anyone?’

‘No.’

‘No one that he might have hurt?’

A pause. ‘No.’

‘Okay.’ A change of tack. ‘You remember the night we were in the Etika and your father came inside?’

A wariness on her face, wondering where this was going. ‘Yes . . .’

‘Do you remember what you had to eat that night?’

Sheer confusion. ‘John? What is this . . .’

‘I do. You had sushi. Halibut and cod. And you had prawns. And beer.’

‘Okay, but . . .’

‘You wore a red T-shirt and black skinny jeans. And your hat, of course. And you had a long hooded red raincoat. I remember thinking that you looked like some rock-chick version of Little Red Riding Hood.’

Her face narrowed in concentration, hanging on every word. But she still looked confused. And lost.

‘I know a little of what happened the night Aron was killed,’ I said. ‘Do you want to hear it?’

She gave just the merest movement of her head up and down, fresh tears forming.

‘I didn’t go straight home. I was too drunk. I don’t know where I did go; wandered round town looking for you, I think. But I know where I ended up. On the fish slabs at the western port.’

She was just looking at me, her mouth wider than her eyes.

‘I fell asleep there. Out cold on the slabs. Then in the middle of the night, someone came up to me and slipped something in my pocket. The knife that was used to kill Aron.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘And that person was wearing a long red raincoat with a hood.’

The tears were streaming now. I had to push it. Had to.

‘Okay, Karis. Let me ask you the question then. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘Did you kill Aron?’

‘Yes.’

Chapter 61

You should never ask a question unless you are prepared to hear the answer. I’d got the reply that I’d half-expected, but the world still stopped for a few moments. I had no breath, my heart didn’t seem to beat, and Karis didn’t move.

There was no noise either. Not a sound inside or out. No howl of wind or passing cars, no voices in the street, not so much as the flap of a butterfly’s wing.

Karis finally broke the spell by lifting her head and looking at me for my reaction. I had none.

‘Yes,’ she repeated, as if I hadn’t heard her the first time.

‘Why?’

Her mouth opened and closed, groping around for words that wouldn’t come. All colour had gone from her and she sat there, bloodless and dazed.

‘Why did you kill him, Karis?’ I wanted it to come from her. I needed it to be that way. I could hardly tell her how I had learned of her motive.

Her shoulders lifted. Like a child caught stealing biscuits, or a teenager who hasn’t done her homework.

‘Let’s start somewhere else.’ I was trying to keep my voice calm, even though my guts were churning and I could feel a rage building inside me. ‘How did it happen?’

Her eyes slid shut, trying to remember and trying to forget. I wondered if she was seeing it replayed inside her head.

‘I was not thinking properly. I was drunk. So angry at Aron. And at you for fighting with him. I wanted an end to it, so I went looking for him.’

‘To kill him?’

‘No. Oh, my God, no. I just . . . I do not know. To end it. Once and for all.’