“All right, so what the hell are we looking for?” Sævaldur demanded. “I’ve no idea,” Gunna replied. “I think what’s certain here is that this isn’t the usual Icelandic murder. This wasn’t carried out by some doped-up bum who didn’t have a clue what he was doing. Whoever did it knew exactly what he was doing, and we need to find out if it can be linked to the fire at the same house. What I have been able to ascertain is that all the locals who would normally be mad enough to do something like this are already behind bars, or have solid alibis.”
“Either this was premeditated and carefully planned, or else whoever did it was very lucky,” Steingrímur said absently, as if he were thinking out loud. “I mean, we were there within minutes. You don’t get all that far in a couple of minutes on foot, unless he-assuming it’s a he-lives nearby and just went home.”
“Or unless he had a car parked nearby and was able to drive off without attracting attention?” Helgi suggested. “There’s the white van that was parked a couple of streets away that might have disappeared about the time of the killing, except that nobody remembers seeing it coming or going.”
“What do you want to do? Check every one of the hundreds of white vans in the south-west corner?” Sævaldur sneered.
“That’s just what we’ve been doing,” Helgi said.
Behind him, Ívar Laxdal nodded in tacit agreement.
The eldest of the three children was the last one to fall asleep. The little boy looked angelic as his head lolled to one side and Jón lifted him gently into the top bunk.
“I always struggle with that,” Elín Harpa said.
They had spent the day together in the little flat, with the children engrossed first in the television and later in a game they made up for themselves in their room.
“I thought kids didn’t do that any more,” Jón said, pleasantly surprised.
“Do what?”
“Play by themselves. I thought it was all TV and video games these days.”
“It is most of the time,” Elín Harpa said. They drank cans of beer from the fridge and talked about themselves with difficulty in staccato sentences.
“How about you?” Elín Harpa asked finally. “What went wrong?”
Jón shrugged. “Same as so many people, I suppose. Debts, lost the house. Not enough work. Wife pissed off back to her mother’s.”
“So where have you been living?”
“At my brother’s. It’s only a one-bedroom flat and we don’t get on. He’s a spoiled little poof. And you?”
“Boyfriend walked out three months ago, said he’d had enough and wanted some fun again.”
“That’s shit,” Jón said bluntly.
“Yeah. I thought so.”
“Is he the father of all of your kids?” Jón asked, and his voice faltered. “I mean, I know it’s personal and I shouldn’t ask, really.”
“I don’t care. No, the eldest two are from boyfriend number one. We split up when the second one was born and I moved south to the refuge.”
“He beat you up?”
“A bit. Enough to get into the refuge, and then I got this place. Boyfriend number two moved in with me and it was fun to start with, while that lasted.”
“What went wrong, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“He’s only nineteen and couldn’t handle the whole kids thing, especially the baby. So he just went.”
“Do you see him?”
“Not since the day he left.”
“God, doesn’t he even want to see his baby?”
“I guess not.”
Jón’s mind wandered to Ragna Gústa and the thought brought tears to his eyes. They sat in silence as Jón drained his can and opened another.
“You can stay, if you want,” Elín Harpa said suddenly. “You’re quite a nice man.”
“Thanks. I’d like to but I don’t think it’ll be for long.”
“Why’s that?”
Jón hesitated. Because I shot a man in cold blood yesterday and tomorrow I’m going to shoot another one, he wanted to say. And after that I’ll be in prison for the rest of my life.
“Æi, there’s just so much shit going on at the moment. I need to try and get my head straight,” he said lamely.
“Up to you. The offer’s there,” Elín Harpa said simply. “You were kind to me the other day, and it’s nice to return the favour.”
“I couldn’t do anything else,” Jón said helplessly.
“Whatever. The kids will be awake early and I have to get them to playschool in the morning. So I’m going to bed,” she said, pulling her shirt over her head. “You coming?”
Laufey washed the pots while Steini loaded the dishwasher. Gunna sat herself back on the sofa and lifted her feet gratefully from the floor.
“What shall I do with the leftovers, Mum?” Laufey yelled from the kitchen.
“Put it all in the fridge, will you?”
The clattering from the kitchen came to a sudden end as the dishwasher hummed into life and Gunna heard the percolator start to hiss and spit to itself. She had never fully got to grips with the TV remote and its rows of buttons, sticking to the half-dozen that she needed, but finally she managed to find the evening news.