Read Online Arctic Chill by Arnaldur Indridason - Free Book Online
Authors: Arnaldur Indridason
Tags: Thrillers, Crime, Mystery, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Crime Fiction, Murder, Thrillers & Suspense, Police Procedurals
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recently moved to the district, she did not know his friends very well and had only a vague idea of where they lived. Erlendur could well understand how she could not stay quietly at home, waiting for news. The entire police force was looking for Niran. His photograph had been distributed to all the stations. He could be in danger. He could also be in hiding. What mattered most was to find him as quickly as possible.
Elínborg contacted Erlendur to say that she had spoken to the staff at the chemist's shop where the witness had seen Niran and his friends hanging around. The staff did not remember any of the boys actually going inside the shop. Nor had they noticed any particular group of teenagers behind the building that day and so were surprised when Elínborg began asking detailed questions about them; schoolchildren were always loitering there. Graffiti was scrawled over the walls and cigarette butts had been stubbed out on the pavement in the little back yard. Elínborg said she would continue talking to Elías's classmates.
'Sunee's neighbour, Fanney her name is, mentioned that Sunee might have been receiving visits from someone.'
'What kind of visits?'
'It was all very vague. She thought someone was calling on her – you know, a man.'
'A boyfriend?'
'Possibly. She didn't know. She didn't actually see anyone. But she thought so. It had been going on since the summer.'
'We'll need to ask Sunee about that,' Erlendur said. 'Have her phone checked: who's called her and who she's been calling.'
'Okay.'
His mobile rang again when Erlendur was pulling up outside the police station. It was Valgerdur. She had heard about the murder and was surprised and horrified. They had arranged to meet that evening but Erlendur said it might not work out. She told him that it didn't matter.
'Do you have any idea what happened?' she asked anxiously.
'None,' Erlendur said.
'I don't want to hold you up. Let's talk later,' she said and they rang off.
Erlendur pulled his overcoat tight as he hurried into the police station, and it suddenly struck him that Niran could hardly be outdoors in such a raging northerly. The freezing, dry wind bit his face. When he looked up, the moon was barely visible, pale as frost.
At the reception desk an agitated middle-aged man was telling the duty officer that his car had been vandalised. The man ranted at the police for their indifference, as if there were nothing criminal about causing damage worth tens of thousands of krónur. In his haste, Erlendur did not quite catch what the crime was, but he thought it sounded as if the man's car had been badly scratched.
Elías's father was sitting in Erlendur's office, head bowed. He was a skinny man in his forties, with a bald patch, wisps of straggly hair over his forehead and several days' growth of beard. He had a very small mouth but large, projecting teeth, which gave him a rather coarse look. He stood up when Erlendur entered and they exchanged greetings.
'Ódinn,' the man introduced himself in a low voice. His eyes were red from weeping.
Erlendur put his overcoat on a hanger and sat down behind the desk.
'My condolences about your son,' he said. 'Of course, this is too horrific for words.'
He allowed a short pause to follow his words as he looked the man over. Ódinn was wearing scruffy jeans and a thin, light-coloured windcheater with an old red scarf round his neck bearing the logo of a foreign football club. He lived alone in the flat on Snorrabraut, according to what he had told the police. On the way to his office, Erlendur was told that Ódinn had been very upset by the visit from the police and the news about Elías.
'Do you have any idea where your stepson might be?' Erlendur asked.
'Niran? What about him?'
'We can't find him. He hasn't been home.'
'I have no idea,' the man said. 'I have—' He stopped.
'Yes?' Erlendur said.
'Nothing,' the man said.
'When were you last in touch with your family?'
'It's always an on-and-off
Elínborg contacted Erlendur to say that she had spoken to the staff at the chemist's shop where the witness had seen Niran and his friends hanging around. The staff did not remember any of the boys actually going inside the shop. Nor had they noticed any particular group of teenagers behind the building that day and so were surprised when Elínborg began asking detailed questions about them; schoolchildren were always loitering there. Graffiti was scrawled over the walls and cigarette butts had been stubbed out on the pavement in the little back yard. Elínborg said she would continue talking to Elías's classmates.
'Sunee's neighbour, Fanney her name is, mentioned that Sunee might have been receiving visits from someone.'
'What kind of visits?'
'It was all very vague. She thought someone was calling on her – you know, a man.'
'A boyfriend?'
'Possibly. She didn't know. She didn't actually see anyone. But she thought so. It had been going on since the summer.'
'We'll need to ask Sunee about that,' Erlendur said. 'Have her phone checked: who's called her and who she's been calling.'
'Okay.'
His mobile rang again when Erlendur was pulling up outside the police station. It was Valgerdur. She had heard about the murder and was surprised and horrified. They had arranged to meet that evening but Erlendur said it might not work out. She told him that it didn't matter.
'Do you have any idea what happened?' she asked anxiously.
'None,' Erlendur said.
'I don't want to hold you up. Let's talk later,' she said and they rang off.
Erlendur pulled his overcoat tight as he hurried into the police station, and it suddenly struck him that Niran could hardly be outdoors in such a raging northerly. The freezing, dry wind bit his face. When he looked up, the moon was barely visible, pale as frost.
At the reception desk an agitated middle-aged man was telling the duty officer that his car had been vandalised. The man ranted at the police for their indifference, as if there were nothing criminal about causing damage worth tens of thousands of krónur. In his haste, Erlendur did not quite catch what the crime was, but he thought it sounded as if the man's car had been badly scratched.
Elías's father was sitting in Erlendur's office, head bowed. He was a skinny man in his forties, with a bald patch, wisps of straggly hair over his forehead and several days' growth of beard. He had a very small mouth but large, projecting teeth, which gave him a rather coarse look. He stood up when Erlendur entered and they exchanged greetings.
'Ódinn,' the man introduced himself in a low voice. His eyes were red from weeping.
Erlendur put his overcoat on a hanger and sat down behind the desk.
'My condolences about your son,' he said. 'Of course, this is too horrific for words.'
He allowed a short pause to follow his words as he looked the man over. Ódinn was wearing scruffy jeans and a thin, light-coloured windcheater with an old red scarf round his neck bearing the logo of a foreign football club. He lived alone in the flat on Snorrabraut, according to what he had told the police. On the way to his office, Erlendur was told that Ódinn had been very upset by the visit from the police and the news about Elías.
'Do you have any idea where your stepson might be?' Erlendur asked.
'Niran? What about him?'
'We can't find him. He hasn't been home.'
'I have no idea,' the man said. 'I have—' He stopped.
'Yes?' Erlendur said.
'Nothing,' the man said.
'When were you last in touch with your family?'
'It's always an on-and-off
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