grudge against this man could be a suspect.’
‘Except me. I have a perfect alibi,’ he repeated, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. ‘I’ll happily sing and dance and piss on his grave after what he did. I make no apologies for it.’ He paused and Gunna looked into hate-filled black eyes. ‘But I didn’t kill the man.’
Gunna nodded, taken aback by the virulent anger that spilled out of Kjartan’s voice, accompanied by his heavy hands balling unconsciously into fists.
‘You made threats against Borgar Jónsson several times, some of them very specific.’
‘I did. And I stand by them. I’m just sorry that someone beat me to it.’
‘You knew he was out of prison?’
‘I did.’
‘And?’
‘And what? What do you expect me to say? Did you expect me to be waiting outside Litla-Hraun for him as the gate opened? Look, I’ve been away for a while. I’m at sea for two, three weeks at a stretch and this is the first time I’ve been off for more than a couple of days since we went back to sea in September. You get it? I’ve hardly been here. In fact, I’ve deliberately not been here and I’ve been working trips for other people who wanted time off.’
‘Because of Borgar?’
‘Exactly. Because of that piece of filth. I knew that if I were to even see the man I wouldn’t be able to hold back. I was told he was about to be let out, so I decided to make myself scarce,’ he said, the angles of his face sharpening as his loathing became apparent. ‘If I’d seen the man, I’d have killed him. End of story. Except somehow I don’t suppose I’d have been let out with a pat on the back halfway through my sentence to go and live in a luxury hostel.’
‘I understand,’ Gunna said as Kjartan’s mouth opened to speak and he closed it again, his breath coming in sharp bursts.
‘How the fuck can you understand?’ Kjartan replied with scorn in his voice. ‘How can you understand what it’s like to have someone taken away like that? One moment they’re there, the next they’ve been wiped out as if they’d never existed.’
‘You’d be amazed, Kjartan,’ Gunna said softly as a heavy silence followed his outburst. ‘Sometimes it’s best not to make assumptions about people you don’t know. Who told you that Borgar was being released?’
Gunna wondered if Kjartan was wiping tears from his eyes as he kneaded his face with the heels of his hands. ‘My wife told me,’ he said eventually. ‘My ex-wife, considering we went our separate ways after Aron died.’
At the café by the quayside, day was breaking and the chef was banging stainless steel pans into their slots ready for lunch. The place was quiet with the morning coffee break over, as Helgi sipped his drink gratefully and Gunna flicked through her notes.
‘Kjartan Aronsson has an alibi that’s pretty damn fireproof,’ she said morosely.
‘You’re sure?’
‘Absolutely. I phoned the fleet manager at the company he works for. He’s been at sea more or less non-stop since September. His ship docked yesterday and he flew home late afternoon.’
‘Hours after Borgar Jónsson’s body was found,’ Helgi said.
‘And a day after he was murdered. Assuming Borgar was killed the day before his body was found. It could be longer – the hostel had only reported his disappearance on Sunday night. Had he been missing for longer than that? Did you ask Ásrún?’
‘I did. She said he was there for breakfast on Sunday morning and left around nine. He’s been working at a supermarket in Kópavogur these last few weeks, and having that job to go to was what got him out of the nick.’
‘Taking work away from someone else,’ Gunna growled.
‘Depends how you look at it,’ Helgi mused. ‘Borgar wasn’t a hazard to anyone else. It’s not as if he was going to embark on a crime spree. So he’s out of jail and keeping his nose clean instead of occupying a cell needed for someone who could well be dangerous.’
‘That’s a very
Larry Smith, Rachel Fershleiser