In the afternoon I get an unexpected call.
‘My name’s Thórunn and I’m Hörður Sæmundarson’s daughter.’
‘What do you want from me?’ I ask coldly.
‘I’m here at the hospital and he very much wants to speak to you.’
‘I was almost dead once, thanks to your father,’ I reply. ‘So it’s understandable that I have no desire to meet him again.’
‘Dad regrets so many of the things he did before he went through rehab,’ Thórunn replies. ‘He’s a different man today.’
I doubt that. It’s a long time since I stopped believing in fairy tales.
‘Why does he want to talk to me?’ I ask, all the same.
‘Dad’s convinced the cops have betrayed him. He says they have no interest in arresting the men who assaulted him in the middle of the night.’
‘And what does that have to do with me?’
‘He wants to take the police to court for damages.’
‘A damages case?’
‘Yes. Dad says he received this horrific treatment because of the lies the police spread about him.’
‘Does he have proof?’
‘So he says.’
Hardnut Höddi’s daughter has finally sparked my interest.
‘How’s he going to prove it?’
‘Dad wants to tell you himself if you’ll come to the hospital.’
What else can I do?
Thórunn waits in the corridor while I confer with her father.
The hospital smell hits me hard. Hörður Sæmundarson looks even worse in the high-tech hospital bed than he did on the district court’s flat-screen. I can only imagine how the rest of his body looks after that pounding.
There are injuries to his head and hands, with blood seeping through to stain the bandages.
‘I’ve never once offered an apology for anything I’ve done, but I’m doing it now,’ he says, wetting his split lips with the tip of his tongue.
‘Isn’t it late in the day for that?’
‘I was off my head on dope and madness back then, but got myself clean a few years ago,’ he replies. ‘I deeply regret my behaviour towards you and others who were left hurt.’
‘The forgiveness of sins isn’t exactly my department.’
‘All the same, I want you to know that I turned over a new leaf and have done my best to work honestly since I was last released from Litla Hraun three years ago.’
‘Your daughter said something about launching a damages case?’
‘You already know that those who assaulted me believed I’d passed information to Vígbergur Antonsson that led to that big cocaine bust.’
‘You’re saying that’s a lie?’
‘Yes. I knew nothing about that cocaine operation until it was on the news.’
‘And you blame the police for spinning this?’
‘I know that cops cooked it up,’ Hörður says. ‘They were going to use this lie to catch me in a trap, to force me to give false evidence against Vígbergur.’
‘It’s one thing to know, but being able to prove it in court is something else.’
Höddi struggles to cope with the pain as he shifts in bed.
‘The assailants wore masks and gloves. But I recognised the ringleader’s voice.’
‘Aha?’
‘That was Jónsteinn Ingólfsson.’
This takes me totally by surprise.
‘Have you told the cops?’
‘No. I named no names to the cops because Jónsteinn is under their protection, just as Sigvaldi was before he skipped the country.’
‘But you have no direct evidence to prove that Jónsteinn was the one who administered this treatment?’
Hörður again wets his bruised lips.
‘I might have proof,’ he replies. The old man’s taken me by surprise again.
‘Such as what?’
‘I have a security camera in the living room where I was beaten up. It should have been activated as soon as it all started.’
Wow!
‘And do the cops know about this hidden camera?’ I ask, leaning closer.
‘No. I don’t trust them.’
‘Understandably.’
‘I don’t trust anyone, but I’ll have to trust you.’
‘Why?’
‘You know them as well as I do, you know they’re not to be trusted.’
I nod agreement.
‘You’ll have to collect the hard drive, copy the recording and save both somewhere safe,’ he says.
I look Höddi up and down for a moment.
Why should I help this bastard? Unless..?
‘Is there anything on this hard drive that could be to Vígbergur’s advantage?’
‘Yes.’
That reply does it.
‘I’m up for it as long as I can use the data as I see fit.’
‘You can do that. But you’ll have to tread carefully. If the cops hear about the camera, they can make evidence disappear.’
‘You seem to have even less faith in the cops than I do.’
‘Some of them are good guys, like Vígbergur. There are others who are as corrupt as fuck, and I speak from long experience because I’ve had dealings with some of the worst shitbags.’
I can’t hold back a smile.
Scum always recognise their own, as Mother said.
In the afternoon I get an unexpected call.
‘My name’s Thórunn and I’m Hörður Sæmundarson’s daughter.’
‘What do you want from me?’ I ask coldly.
‘I’m here at the hospital and he very much wants to speak to you.’
‘I was almost dead once, thanks to your father,’ I reply. ‘So it’s understandable that I have no desire to meet him again.’
‘Dad regrets so many of the things he did before he went through rehab,’ Thórunn replies. ‘He’s a different man today.’
I doubt that. It’s a long time since I stopped believing in fairy tales.
‘Why does he want to talk to me?’ I ask, all the same.
‘Dad’s convinced the cops have betrayed him. He says they have no interest in arresting the men who assaulted him in the middle of the night.’
‘And what does that have to do with me?’
‘He wants to take the police to court for damages.’
‘A damages case?’
‘Yes. Dad says he received this horrific treatment because of the lies the police spread about him.’
‘Does he have proof?’
‘So he says.’
Hardnut Höddi’s daughter has finally sparked my interest.
‘How’s he going to prove it?’
‘Dad wants to tell you himself if you’ll come to the hospital.’
What else can I do?
Thórunn waits in the corridor while I confer with her father.
The hospital smell hits me hard. Hörður Sæmundarson looks even worse in the high-tech hospital bed than he did on the district court’s flat-screen. I can only imagine how the rest of his body looks after that pounding.
There are injuries to his head and hands, with blood seeping through to stain the bandages.
‘I’ve never once offered an apology for anything I’ve done, but I’m doing it now,’ he says, wetting his split lips with the tip of his tongue.
‘Isn’t it late in the day for that?’
‘I was off my head on dope and madness back then, but got myself clean a few years ago,’ he replies. ‘I deeply regret my behaviour towards you and others who were left hurt.’
‘The forgiveness of sins isn’t exactly my department.’
‘All the same, I want you to know that I turned over a new leaf and have done my best to work honestly since I was last released from Litla Hraun three years ago.’
‘Your daughter said something about launching a damages case?’
‘You already know that those who assaulted me believed I’d passed information to Vígbergur Antonsson that led to that big cocaine bust.’
‘You’re saying that’s a lie?’
‘Yes. I knew nothing about that cocaine operation until it was on the news.’
‘And you blame the police for spinning this?’
‘I know that cops cooked it up,’ Hörður says. ‘They were going to use this lie to catch me in a trap, to force me to give false evidence against Vígbergur.’
‘It’s one thing to know, but being able to prove it in court is something else.’
Höddi struggles to cope with the pain as he shifts in bed.
‘The assailants wore masks and gloves. But I recognised the ringleader’s voice.’
‘Aha?’
‘That was Jónsteinn Ingólfsson.’
This takes me totally by surprise.
‘Have you told the cops?’
‘No. I named no names to the cops because Jónsteinn is under their protection, just as Sigvaldi was before he skipped the country.’
‘But you have no direct evidence to prove that Jónsteinn was the one who administered this treatment?’
Hörður again wets his bruised lips.
‘I might have proof,’ he replies. The old man’s taken me by surprise again.
‘Such as what?’
‘I have a security camera in the living room where I was beaten up. It should have been activated as soon as it all started.’
Wow!
‘And do the cops know about this hidden camera?’ I ask, leaning closer.
‘No. I don’t trust them.’
‘Understandably.’
‘I don’t trust anyone, but I’ll have to trust you.’
‘Why?’
‘You know them as well as I do, you know they’re not to be trusted.’
I nod agreement.
‘You’ll have to collect the hard drive, copy the recording and save both somewhere safe,’ he says.
I look Höddi up and down for a moment.
Why should I help this bastard? Unless..?
‘Is there anything on this hard drive that could be to Vígbergur’s advantage?’
‘Yes.’
That reply does it.
‘I’m up for it as long as I can use the data as I see fit.’
‘You can do that. But you’ll have to tread carefully. If the cops hear about the camera, they can make evidence disappear.’
‘You seem to have even less faith in the cops than I do.’
‘Some of them are good guys, like Vígbergur. There are others who are as corrupt as fuck, and I speak from long experience because I’ve had dealings with some of the worst shitbags.’
I can’t hold back a smile.
Scum always recognise their own, as Mother said.
In the afternoon I get an unexpected call.
‘My name’s Thórunn and I’m Hörður Sæmundarson’s daughter.’
‘What do you want from me?’ I ask coldly.
‘I’m here at the hospital and he very much wants to speak to you.’
‘I was almost dead once, thanks to your father,’ I reply. ‘So it’s understandable that I have no desire to meet him again.’
‘Dad regrets so many of the things he did before he went through rehab,’ Thórunn replies. ‘He’s a different man today.’
I doubt that. It’s a long time since I stopped believing in fairy tales.
‘Why does he want to talk to me?’ I ask, all the same.
‘Dad’s convinced the cops have betrayed him. He says they have no interest in arresting the men who assaulted him in the middle of the night.’
‘And what does that have to do with me?’
‘He wants to take the police to court for damages.’
‘A damages case?’
‘Yes. Dad says he received this horrific treatment because of the lies the police spread about him.’
‘Does he have proof?’
‘So he says.’
Hardnut Höddi’s daughter has finally sparked my interest.
‘How’s he going to prove it?’
‘Dad wants to tell you himself if you’ll come to the hospital.’
What else can I do?
Thórunn waits in the corridor while I confer with her father.
The hospital smell hits me hard. Hörður Sæmundarson looks even worse in the high-tech hospital bed than he did on the district court’s flat-screen. I can only imagine how the rest of his body looks after that pounding.
There are injuries to his head and hands, with blood seeping through to stain the bandages.
‘I’ve never once offered an apology for anything I’ve done, but I’m doing it now,’ he says, wetting his split lips with the tip of his tongue.
‘Isn’t it late in the day for that?’
‘I was off my head on dope and madness back then, but got myself clean a few years ago,’ he replies. ‘I deeply regret my behaviour towards you and others who were left hurt.’
‘The forgiveness of sins isn’t exactly my department.’
‘All the same, I want you to know that I turned over a new leaf and have done my best to work honestly since I was last released from Litla Hraun three years ago.’
‘Your daughter said something about launching a damages case?’
‘You already know that those who assaulted me believed I’d passed information to Vígbergur Antonsson that led to that big cocaine bust.’
‘You’re saying that’s a lie?’
‘Yes. I knew nothing about that cocaine operation until it was on the news.’
‘And you blame the police for spinning this?’
‘I know that cops cooked it up,’ Hörður says. ‘They were going to use this lie to catch me in a trap, to force me to give false evidence against Vígbergur.’
‘It’s one thing to know, but being able to prove it in court is something else.’
Höddi struggles to cope with the pain as he shifts in bed.
‘The assailants wore masks and gloves. But I recognised the ringleader’s voice.’
‘Aha?’
‘That was Jónsteinn Ingólfsson.’
This takes me totally by surprise.
‘Have you told the cops?’
‘No. I named no names to the cops because Jónsteinn is under their protection, just as Sigvaldi was before he skipped the country.’
‘But you have no direct evidence to prove that Jónsteinn was the one who administered this treatment?’
Hörður again wets his bruised lips.
‘I might have proof,’ he replies. The old man’s taken me by surprise again.
‘Such as what?’
‘I have a security camera in the living room where I was beaten up. It should have been activated as soon as it all started.’
Wow!
‘And do the cops know about this hidden camera?’ I ask, leaning closer.
‘No. I don’t trust them.’
‘Understandably.’
‘I don’t trust anyone, but I’ll have to trust you.’
‘Why?’
‘You know them as well as I do, you know they’re not to be trusted.’
I nod agreement.
‘You’ll have to collect the hard drive, copy the recording and save both somewhere safe,’ he says.
I look Höddi up and down for a moment.
Why should I help this bastard? Unless..?
‘Is there anything on this hard drive that could be to Vígbergur’s advantage?’
‘Yes.’
That reply does it.
‘I’m up for it as long as I can use the data as I see fit.’
‘You can do that. But you’ll have to tread carefully. If the cops hear about the camera, they can make evidence disappear.’
‘You seem to have even less faith in the cops than I do.’
‘Some of them are good guys, like Vígbergur. There are others who are as corrupt as fuck, and I speak from long experience because I’ve had dealings with some of the worst shitbags.’
I can’t hold back a smile.
Scum always recognise their own, as Mother said.
The Murder Pool by Stella Blómkvist (translated by Quentin Bates) Corylus Books
Sometimes murder runs in the family. Or does it? When a well-known artist is found in Snorri's Pool with an axe buried deep in his chest, Stella Blómkvist is immediately thrown in at the deep end, brought in to defend the apparently harmless young man the police have in their sights as the killer. The man's mother had spent time prison, convicted of the killing of a personal trainer, despite her protestations of innocence. Stella can't help being drawn into both the cold case and this fresh murder, with a trail of guilt that stretches half-way around the world. As if she doesn't have enough to keep her busy, Stella's pursuing a political high-flyer suspected of being a serial rapist, and defending a senior police officer on corruption charges that have all the hallmarks of a vendetta. But the toughest challenges Stella faces are among her own loved ones… With a razor-sharp tongue and a moral compass all of her own, Stella Blómkvist has a talent for attracting trouble. Her trademark explosive mix of murder, intrigue and surprise has made this of Iceland's best-loved crime series.
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