Reykjavik Nights (17 page)

Hannibal did not react.

‘Of course, they'll chuck you out after midday,' Erlendur went on. ‘But I asked them to give you some lunch first.'

Hannibal continued to contemplate the ceiling.

‘Do you really have no idea who attacked you?'

Still no response.

‘We can try to track them down. You can press charges. You're not completely without rights, whatever you may think. You can always turn to us if you need to.'

At this the other man shook his head.

‘Well, I must be off,' said Erlendur. ‘Take care. Hope you feel better soon.'

He was about to step out into the corridor again when Hannibal cleared his throat.

‘Why are you doing this?'

‘Doing what?' Erlendur paused in the doorway.

‘Why are you helping me? What do you want from me?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Then why won't you leave me alone?'

‘I could do.'

‘You should.'

‘All right,' said Erlendur. ‘I'll remember that in future.'

‘Yes, you remember that. You needn't bother about me.'

‘All right then.'

Hannibal did not look at him, but Erlendur could sense the rage seething inside him. Perhaps it was a fresh, hot anger, flaring up now because he had been attacked and left lying in the gutter. Or because he had been brought to this cell against his will, even if it was for his own good. Or because Sigurgeir had called him a sorry wretch. But Erlendur guessed that it was a cold fury that had long lain dormant in Hannibal, fuelled by a life of hardship.

‘What happened to you?' the tramp asked suddenly.

‘Nothing's happened to me,' said Erlendur.

‘Then what are you trying to make up for?'

‘I have no idea what you're talking about.'

‘Is that so?'

‘Yes. What are you on about?'

‘I'm talking about you,' said Hannibal.

‘You don't know the first thing about me,' said Erlendur. ‘So how can you be talking about me?'

‘When did you screw up?' asked Hannibal, sitting up with an effort.

‘What do you mean?'

‘What are you trying to compensate for with all your do-gooding?'

‘Nothing,' said Erlendur.

‘Come on, what are you trying to make amends for? That's why you're helping me, isn't it? To atone for your sins? Is that it? Am I your penance?'

Glaring at Erlendur, who was standing in the doorway, Hannibal suddenly began to shout.

‘Why are you doing this? Am I supposed to give you some kind of absolution?'

‘You –'

‘Tell me about it!'

Erlendur was completely wrong-footed.

‘Is that why you can't leave me alone?' yelled Hannibal hoarsely, beside himself now with rage. ‘Well, you needn't feel sorry for me. I don't need your pity. It's no use to me. You can go to hell, you and all your bloody family! I don't need anyone's pity. No one's! Just you remember that!'

29

Hannibal fell back on the bed with a grimace, clutched his side and groaned. Erlendur hesitated a moment before closing the door. He left it unlocked. He had no idea what had just happened, but he thought he had better respect the man's wishes and leave him alone. He walked away down the corridor, shaken by the tramp's sudden violent rage. Hannibal's words about penance and absolution rang in his ears as he left the station and he was barely aware of his surroundings until an officer caught up with him. By then Erlendur had already covered quite a distance.

‘That alky wants a word with you,' the policeman said, panting.

‘Alky?'

‘That tramp you put in the cells. He wants to talk to you.'

‘Oh?'

‘Yes, he's calling for you. He was out in the corridor raising hell, demanding to see you. He stinks.'

‘Tell him I've left.'

‘He was very insistent,' said the officer. ‘He wants to talk to you. Won't let it drop.'

Erlendur wavered. He had no desire to see Hannibal in that mood.

‘He threatened us. We had to lock him in.'

‘You mustn't do that,' said Erlendur. ‘He's not under arrest. He was beaten up. He's free to go whenever he likes.'

‘Well, he's not leaving till he's spoken to you.'

Erlendur shook his head.

‘Right then,' said the policeman. ‘We'll kick him out.'

‘Don't do that – he needs a chance to recover.'

‘Oh, for God's sake, why don't you just talk to him and calm him down, then everyone'll be happy. Wouldn't that be simplest?'

A few minutes later Erlendur went back into the cell. Hannibal was sitting, head bowed, on the bed, but as soon as he saw Erlendur he stood and, surprisingly, ran a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to smarten himself up. Erlendur sensed it was an old habit, a relic of his past life that lingered on with peculiar obstinacy. That world may have been irretrievably lost to him but the action was ingrained, a remnant of the self-respect he had once possessed. It sat oddly with his condition now. His green anorak, filthy from living rough, torn from beatings like the one last night, looked as if it was grafted to his flesh. It was cinched round the waist by a black leather belt, and a woollen hat poked out of one pocket. Around his neck Hannibal had knotted a thin, green scarf, and on his lower half he wore baggy, black trousers. His feet were clad in thick galoshes, minus their laces, with woollen socks peeping over the top. His trouser legs were tucked into the socks, which were secured with tough elastic bands. Under the grime his face had a corpse-like pallor and was criss-crossed with wrinkles, a testament to his daily battle for survival, waged in the darkest corners of the city. If his eyes had ever shone with joy, it had long since been extinguished. They were hard and grey as weathered stone.

‘Thank you for coming back,' he began.

‘What do you want from me?' asked Erlendur.

‘I wanted to apologise for the way I spoke to you. It was uncalled for, and it matters a lot to me that you know I didn't mean anything by it. I hope you'll accept my apology and forgive my outburst.'

‘There's nothing to forgive,' said Erlendur. ‘We don't know each other. You can say what you like to me. I don't care.'

‘All the same, I'd be grateful,' said Hannibal. ‘You've been kind to me and I had no business attacking you like that. I know … I know you mean well and I should respect that. I suppose I'm a bit touchy about people meddling. Can't stand it when they try to push me about.'

‘I wouldn't dream of pushing you about.'

‘No, I know that.'

‘Have you encountered them before?' asked Erlendur.

‘Who?'

‘The men who beat you up.'

‘No, not them. Others, though.'

‘So you don't know who they were?'

‘No.'

‘Or what sort of age?'

‘Young. They were young. And they were wearing good shoes. I noticed that when they started kicking me. Sometimes these boys … boys like them try to get a rise out of me. Usually I ignore them but every now and then I'm stupid enough to fly off the handle and almost always come off worst.'

He sat down on the bed again with a stifled moan, pressing a hand to his ribs.

‘They won't finish me off. Any more than the bastards who tried to set fire to my cellar.'

‘What do you mean? Did someone start a fire?'

‘Frímann blames me – he won't listen. But it wasn't me, I swear.'

‘Do you know who it was?'

‘I have my suspicions,' said Hannibal. ‘Anyhow, I'd better take those pills.' He reached out for the painkillers. ‘You're not from Reykjavík, are you?'

‘Why do you say that?'

‘You from the country?'

‘I moved here when I was twelve,' said Erlendur.

‘Where are you from?'

‘The East Fjords. Eskifjördur.'

‘Went there once. Beautiful place. How do you like Reykjavík?'

‘It's not too bad.'

‘Like that, is it?' said Hannibal. ‘Why did you move?'

‘I came here with my parents.'

‘I was born here in the city,' said Hannibal. ‘In Laugarnes. Lived here all my life, wouldn't want to be anywhere else.'

‘In spite of everything.'

‘I've no one to blame but myself,' said Hannibal. ‘You do what you can with the hand you're dealt, and I'll be the first to admit I've ballsed up.'

‘What did you mean before, about penance?' asked Erlendur.

‘That was just nonsense. I come out with a load of crap sometimes. Don't take any notice.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Yes, I'd rather not go into it, if you don't mind.'

‘Do you feel you haven't done enough penance yourself?' asked Erlendur.

‘I said I'd rather not talk about it.'

‘Is this some kind of punishment? This life on the streets?'

Hannibal would not answer, so Erlendur abandoned the subject.

‘You're a bit of an outsider yourself,' the tramp said after a lengthy pause.

‘I wouldn't say that.'

‘Is that why you feel sorry for me?'

‘I just don't want you to die of exposure.'

‘Why should you care?'

‘Why shouldn't I care?'

‘No one else gives a toss if I live or die, so I don't see why you should. Why did your family move to town? Did something happen?'

‘My parents wanted to move to the city.'

‘Why?'

‘Various reasons.'

‘Don't you want to tell me?'

‘I don't see that it has anything to do with you.'

‘No, of course not,' said Hannibal in a quieter voice, suddenly ashamed. ‘Sorry. It's none of my business. I'm a nosy bastard, I'm afraid. Terribly nosy. Always have been. Don't know where it comes from. Just a habit. A bad habit.'

He ran a hand over his hair again, tidying non-existent locks. He had lost his vehemence and sat now without speaking, eyes fixed on the cell wall, as if it were one of the walls he had erected around his own life, which had confined him in a self-imposed prison for longer than he cared to remember.

‘Doesn't matter if I live or die,' he said absently, almost whispering now.

‘What did you say?'

‘I'd probably end it all if I wasn't such a coward.'

‘End what?'

‘This misery,' Hannibal whispered, gazing unseeing at the wall. ‘This god-awful misery.'

30

The woman who had gone missing from Thórskaffi was called Oddný. She was thirty-four at the time. She was born in Reykjavík and had been brought up in the old Thingholt district. After finishing secondary school she had moved on to college but quit after a couple of years and took a job instead. Before becoming an estate agent she had worked in a variety of places, including the supermarket on Hafnarstræti where she met her future husband. He was studying business at the university but had taken a summer job there. They got married but didn't have any children. After graduating he had been offered a position at the People's Bank and later at a pension fund, and with their combined salaries they had been able to scrape together the money to build their own house in Fossvogur. They had moved in three years before Oddný vanished.

‘They both worked very hard, no question' said the woman with a smile. ‘Pity they never had children. She wanted them so badly. Often talked about it. From what she said I gather they'd been for all kinds of tests but, well, I don't know if I should be gossiping about this…'

‘What?' asked Erlendur.

‘It's just that she once hinted that the problem lay with him. At least that's what she said. I don't know if it's true.'

Erlendur nodded. Behind the woman hung a large poster of central London and three clocks showing the time in Moscow, Paris and New York respectively. The woman worked for a large travel agency and sold tours all over the world. She had known Oddný from way back and later worked with her at the estate agency, but had been offered better pay and conditions in the travel business.

‘Actually, I got her the job at the estate agency,' said the woman. ‘She was very good – had an amazing gift for talking to people and winning their trust.'

The woman, whose name was Ástrídur, was one of the chief witnesses. She had met up with her old work mates at Thórskaffi and was one of the last people to see Oddný alive. Erlendur had reread the case file, noting down the names of several witnesses and other people with some connection to the case. The inquiry was still ongoing, so Erlendur's questions did not arouse suspicion; all he had to do was mention that he was from the police. There was no reason to treat it as a criminal investigation yet, but not everyone was satisfied with this.

Although Erlendur was not officially involved in the inquiry, he didn't see why this should stop him conducting his own private investigation. Nor was he particularly concerned about how his superiors would react when they learned what he'd been up to. Anyone was free to gather information if they wanted to. Besides, he believed he was acting in Hannibal's interests. If there was fallout, he would explain about the earring. Indeed, that was his plan, but first he wanted to try to establish whether Hannibal had played any part in the woman's disappearance.

He wanted to avoid a situation where the press heard that the tramp had probably been the last person to see Oddný alive, and then printed a story about Hannibal being responsible for her death. Erlendur hoped to dispel any rumours of that kind but knew it would be difficult. He would not be able to hush up the discovery of the earring much longer. The moment he informed CID who it belonged to and where it was found, the case would be promoted from a missing-person inquiry to a full-blown murder investigation.

‘Did it affect their relationship?' he asked now.