Far North - Michael Ridpath [119]
‘No, I’m serious.’ Josh was leaning forward, his eyes alight. ‘I’ve got it all figured out. The Icelanders hate Julian Lister. Ever since the credit crunch. He confiscated all their assets and called them a bunch of terrorists.’
‘Yeah, well, loads of people hate Julian Lister. So what does that prove?’
Josh lowered his voice. ‘You know I was working in the House of Commons as a research assistant over the summer? I was working for Anita Norris who was a junior treasury minister. Well, Zak Samuelsson, you know, the Icelander, asked me where Julian Lister was going on holiday this summer. I mean what kind of question is that?’
‘So what are you suggesting? That Zak shot him?’
‘Or told one of his mates back in Iceland.’
Sophie felt her ears redden. Everyone around the table was looking at her, apart from Josh, who clearly was the only one who didn’t know she was going out with Zak.
‘What?’ Josh said, aware that something was wrong.
‘You’re such an arsehole, Josh,’ said Tori.
‘What do you think, Sophie?’ It was one of the other guys, Eddie. The question was well meant, he was trying to give Sophie a chance to defend her boyfriend.
‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ said Sophie. ‘Icelanders don’t do that sort of thing.’
‘I bet Zak was pleased about what happened to Lister,’ said Josh, still not quite getting it.
‘He wasn’t,’ said Sophie. ‘I know him, you don’t, and he had nothing to do with it.’
‘Yeah, Josh,’ said Tori. ‘You talk a lot of shit. Don’t mouth off about stuff you know nothing about.’
The penny dropped. Josh glanced around the group. ‘Sorry. I didn’t know he was a friend of yours,’ he said to Sophie.
She smiled weakly. ‘That’s OK,’ she said.
But as soon as the conversation moved on she finished her drink and slipped away. She was desperate to get out of there.
Magnus paced up and down in his tiny room. He felt imprisoned. Árni had been waiting for Frikki, and when Frikki eventually returned home with his girlfriend, Árni had whisked him back to the station. He and Vigdís were interviewing the boy at that very moment. Magnus wanted to be there too. And if that wasn’t possible, he wanted to know what Frikki was saying. But he couldn’t disturb them; he just had to wait.
He had called Sharon Piper to find out if there was any news on the French couple holidaying in India. Nothing yet. Magnus swore as he hung up. Matching a verbal description was not conclusive. Magnus really needed a positive ID on Ísak if he was to get himself back on the case. Without it, any attempt to link Óskar’s death to Iceland was just speculation. As Snorri and Baldur would make very clear. Having called Sharon once, Magnus couldn’t very well call her again.
It was getting dark and he was hungry. He grabbed his coat and headed outside. Around the corner and up the hill towards the church was Vitabar, the nearest thing the neighbourhood had to a diner. Magnus ordered a burger and a beer. He wolfed the burger down too quickly.
Rather than go back to his apartment he wandered the streets. Any call would come through to his cell phone. He found himself in the square in front of the Hallgrímskirkja. The church rose tall above him, illuminated against the night sky. Beneath it the statue of Leifur Eiríksson, the first European to discover America, stared out over the city to the west.
Sending Magnus home, perhaps.
His phone rang. It was Vigdís.
‘Hi. Did he talk?’ Magnus asked her.
‘No,’ Vigdís said.
‘What do you mean, no? Didn’t he say anything at all?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
‘What, has he got a lawyer or something?’
‘He doesn’t want one. It’s weird. He just sits there looking miserable. Not arrogant or cocky, you know the way they sometimes are when they think they can keep quiet and you can’t touch them. It looks like he’s just about to cry.’
‘So? Didn’t you make him cry?’
‘Hey, Magnús, cool it,’ said Vigdís.
‘All right.’ Magnus realized Vigdís had a point. He knew she was a good detective. He had to trust her. And there was no harder suspect to interview than one who