Far North - Michael Ridpath [43]
‘Well, it would probably be more appropriate if you weren’t present while I spoke with María.’
‘More appropriate? I remember how you ended up interviewing me. I wouldn’t want you to use the same techniques on María.’ She exchanged a glance with María, and burst out laughing.
Magnus, as usual, was wrong-footed. Although the first time he had interviewed Ingileif things had been very professional, and in fact Vigdís had been with him at the time, it was true that later he had been friendlier with a witness than he should have been.
He glanced at Vigdís. She was trying not to laugh.
‘OK,’ Magnus said. ‘But don’t interrupt.’ As soon as he had said it he knew how pointless it was.
María showed them into the living room. It was large, elegant in an Icelandic minimalist way, with white walls, blonde polished wood floors and furniture that was made as much of glass as wood. Smooth abstract sculptures twisted and turned as they posed for visitors. The art on the walls was bright, eye-catching and original. Tropical flowers in ones and twos stood proudly out of their vases.
A good client for Ingileif, no doubt.
Magnus quickly took in the family photographs. There were a couple of María with a gaunt man with greying temples, wearing a well-cut suit. Husband. And successful, given the price of the house.
Magnus, Ingileif and Vigdís sat down while María poured coffee. There was a catalogue on the coffee table, open at nursery furniture. María and Ingileif had obviously been looking at it. Magnus surreptitiously checked for a bulge above María’s jeans, but couldn’t see one.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Ingileif, nodding towards the catalogue. ‘It’s not for us, Magnús.’
‘I didn’t think it was,’ said Magnus.
‘Yes you did,’ said Ingileif, with an amused smile.
‘It’s me,’ said María. ‘I’m three months pregnant.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Magnus. He cleared his throat in an attempt to gain some control over proceedings. ‘So, María, tell me how you knew Óskar?’
María took a deep breath. ‘Óskar. He was quite a few years older than me. I’m not sure where we met, but I remember first getting interested in him at a dinner at a friend’s house – Birta, you know her, Ingileif?’
Ingileif nodded.
‘It was 2003, six years ago. We all went out later as a group, we danced: I could tell he liked me.’
‘He was still married at the time?’
‘Oh, yes,’ María said. ‘But it was never going to work.’
Magnus raised his eyebrows.
‘Óskar and Kamilla had been going out since high school,’ Ingileif said. ‘Those marriages never last. It’s just a matter of time.’
Magnus threw a glance of disapproval at Ingileif.
‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘Ingileif is right,’ María said. ‘He was on the lookout, I could tell. We ended up sleeping together. It went on a couple of years.’
‘Did his wife know?’
‘I don’t think so. Óskar didn’t think she did, at any rate.’
‘So your relationship was serious?’
‘Yes, it was.’ María faltered for the first time. ‘I really liked him. He was an attractive guy. And he was funny, lively. He had that air of success about him, you know? Everything he touched turned to gold.’ She smiled.
‘I remember he took me to the South of France for a weekend. We stayed in this wonderful hotel high up on the Corniche, with an amazing view of the Mediterranean. We went gambling in one of the casinos in Monte Carlo. I had been making small bets on red and losing mostly. He split my stake into three and slid a third on to number fourteen, my birthday. He lost. So then he pushed the second third on that number and lost again. He raised his eyebrows at me for permission to place the last third and I nodded. I trusted him. And he won! Over a thousand euros. That would never happen to me, but it seemed kind of inevitable with him. He was a winner, you know?’
‘Quite a catch.’
‘I thought so,’ said María. ‘I guess I fell for that classic mistress mistake. I hoped he would leave his wife and marry me.’ She sighed. ‘Then I heard that he had gone off with some slut