Read Online Oblivion by Arnaldur Indridason - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Arnaldur Indridason
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castle-builders and help them start again.
‘The little pest,’ she said when she came back, and heaved a deep breath. ‘She’ll be a handful one day.’
‘Are you all right?’ asked Marion.
‘I’m fine,’ said Nanna. ‘I’d rather look after the kids than hang around at home. It’s nothing. I’m all right.’
‘Who sold him the drugs?’ asked Erlendur.
‘I don’t know. All I know is he got them from the base. He had contacts but he didn’t tell me who they were and I didn’t ask too many questions. He said he was careful. I kept asking him about that and telling him to watch himself, and I know he did. My brother was no fool. He knew what he was doing.’
But look how he ended up, Erlendur wanted to say, but stopped himself. He had no desire to increase her suffering; she had enough to cope with. He believed Nanna was telling the truth and that she was desperate to find out what had happened to her brother. He didn’t believe for a moment that she could have played any part in his death, though Marion had hinted as much on their way to the nursery school. Marion wanted to pursue this angle because she hadn’t come clean to them about the booze or drugs, but Erlendur thought she’d simply had too much else on her mind at the time. Marion took the view that she was hiding something from the police about the goods. But Erlendur dis-agreed, especially now that Nanna had admitted to using the drugs for medicinal purposes and apparently didn’t regard the fact as a big deal.
‘How did he travel to and fro?’ asked Erlendur.
‘To and fro?’
‘Between Reykjavík and Keflavík.’
‘Oh, he had a car,’ said Nanna. ‘Haven’t you found it?’
‘What sort of car?’ asked Marion. ‘We didn’t find any car registered in his name.’
‘That’s because it was mine – it’s still in my name. A Toyota Corolla. I sold it to him. We just hadn’t got round to transferring ownership. And as Kristvin had only paid me half, I still use it quite a bit too, so …’
‘You took turns using it?’ finished Erlendur, and wrote down the details: two-door, grey, six years old, constantly breaking down.
‘Yes, but he’s been using it for the last few weeks.’
13
A SPELL IN custody had done nothing to soften up Ellert and Vignir, or make them any more amenable. They were as insolent and insufferable as the day they had been locked up in Sídumúli Prison, and still stubbornly denied any wrongdoing. They had much in common, although it wasn’t obvious from their appearance that they were brothers. One was stocky and ungainly, with a thick head of hair; the other tall, lanky and almost totally bald. They lived together – always had – and were described as very close. Vignir, the ungainly one, was the elder, and acted as spokesman for them both, as far as the police could gather. Ellert was a more shadowy figure who kept a low profile and stayed in the background. Perhaps that was why he was known as ‘the Old Lady’. But, according to police informants, he was the real mastermind behind the brothers’ business and on the rare occasions he showed his hand you would go far to find another thug as vicious as him. He was aware of his nickname and thin-skinned about it. There was a story doing the rounds that a man who used it to his face had spent the next two months in intensive care; he claimed to have been hit by a car, never fully recovered and left the country after a spell in rehabilitation. Whether it was true or not, nobody could say.
Towards midday Ellert was conducted to the interview room and took a seat across from Marion and Erlendur, wearing the same sullen expression that hadn’t left his face since he was apprehended. He had made no attempt to resist arrest, any more than his brother, but insisted he hadn’t committed any criminal offence and wished to register a protest about the unlawful way in which he was being treated. The fine phrases had been picked up from the TV cop
‘The little pest,’ she said when she came back, and heaved a deep breath. ‘She’ll be a handful one day.’
‘Are you all right?’ asked Marion.
‘I’m fine,’ said Nanna. ‘I’d rather look after the kids than hang around at home. It’s nothing. I’m all right.’
‘Who sold him the drugs?’ asked Erlendur.
‘I don’t know. All I know is he got them from the base. He had contacts but he didn’t tell me who they were and I didn’t ask too many questions. He said he was careful. I kept asking him about that and telling him to watch himself, and I know he did. My brother was no fool. He knew what he was doing.’
But look how he ended up, Erlendur wanted to say, but stopped himself. He had no desire to increase her suffering; she had enough to cope with. He believed Nanna was telling the truth and that she was desperate to find out what had happened to her brother. He didn’t believe for a moment that she could have played any part in his death, though Marion had hinted as much on their way to the nursery school. Marion wanted to pursue this angle because she hadn’t come clean to them about the booze or drugs, but Erlendur thought she’d simply had too much else on her mind at the time. Marion took the view that she was hiding something from the police about the goods. But Erlendur dis-agreed, especially now that Nanna had admitted to using the drugs for medicinal purposes and apparently didn’t regard the fact as a big deal.
‘How did he travel to and fro?’ asked Erlendur.
‘To and fro?’
‘Between Reykjavík and Keflavík.’
‘Oh, he had a car,’ said Nanna. ‘Haven’t you found it?’
‘What sort of car?’ asked Marion. ‘We didn’t find any car registered in his name.’
‘That’s because it was mine – it’s still in my name. A Toyota Corolla. I sold it to him. We just hadn’t got round to transferring ownership. And as Kristvin had only paid me half, I still use it quite a bit too, so …’
‘You took turns using it?’ finished Erlendur, and wrote down the details: two-door, grey, six years old, constantly breaking down.
‘Yes, but he’s been using it for the last few weeks.’
13
A SPELL IN custody had done nothing to soften up Ellert and Vignir, or make them any more amenable. They were as insolent and insufferable as the day they had been locked up in Sídumúli Prison, and still stubbornly denied any wrongdoing. They had much in common, although it wasn’t obvious from their appearance that they were brothers. One was stocky and ungainly, with a thick head of hair; the other tall, lanky and almost totally bald. They lived together – always had – and were described as very close. Vignir, the ungainly one, was the elder, and acted as spokesman for them both, as far as the police could gather. Ellert was a more shadowy figure who kept a low profile and stayed in the background. Perhaps that was why he was known as ‘the Old Lady’. But, according to police informants, he was the real mastermind behind the brothers’ business and on the rare occasions he showed his hand you would go far to find another thug as vicious as him. He was aware of his nickname and thin-skinned about it. There was a story doing the rounds that a man who used it to his face had spent the next two months in intensive care; he claimed to have been hit by a car, never fully recovered and left the country after a spell in rehabilitation. Whether it was true or not, nobody could say.
Towards midday Ellert was conducted to the interview room and took a seat across from Marion and Erlendur, wearing the same sullen expression that hadn’t left his face since he was apprehended. He had made no attempt to resist arrest, any more than his brother, but insisted he hadn’t committed any criminal offence and wished to register a protest about the unlawful way in which he was being treated. The fine phrases had been picked up from the TV cop
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