The Darkness Knows
- Автор: Indridason Arnaldur
- Серия: Detective Konrad #1
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Harvill Secker/Penguin Random House UK
- ISBN: 978-1-78730-232-7
- Переводчик: Victoria Cribb
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «The Darkness Knows». Краткое содержание книги:
The case: impossible to solve. Until now.
A frozen body is discovered in the icy depths of Langjökull glacier, apparently that of a businessman who disappeared thirty years before. At the time, an extensive search and police investigation yielded no results-one of the missing man’s business associates was briefly held in custody, but there wasn’t enough evidence to charge him.
Now the associate is arrested again and Konrád, the retired policeman who originally investigated the disappearance, is called back to reopen the case that has weighed on his mind for decades.
When a woman approaches him with new information that she obtained from her deceased brother, progress can finally be made in solving this long-cold case.
An old Wagoneer jeep, or what was left of it, was revealed. The worn, colourless chassis was propped up on stands — minus wheels, both front wings, and one of the back wings. Almost everything had been removed from the interior except the steering wheel. Seats, dashboard and gearbox had all gone.
Konrád walked around the jeep. He didn’t recognise the exact model but thought it could hardly be less than thirty years old. The front part was reasonably intact. The bonnet cover was still in place, though the bumper and grille were missing, leaving a large hole where the radiator had once been. The engine had gone too. Konrád knelt down and ran a finger over the metal behind where the bumper used to be, and reckoned he could see the impression where the cable from a winch had been attached.
He straightened up again. There was still no sound of traffic in the industrial estate but he thought he’d better get a move on, since for all he knew Bernhard might return any minute. He took hold of the tarpaulin and was about to drag it back over the wreck when his gaze fell on the bonnet. He bent down and ran his hand over the dented, rusty surface, peering at the little that was left of the faded paintwork.
Finally, not daring to stay a minute longer, he swung the cover over the wreck again and tried to secure it so there were no obvious signs that it had been tampered with. After wrestling with it for a while, he hurried back to his car.
On the way home he recalled the image of Bernhard standing in his doorway when he’d visited him on Friday. Konrád had rung the bell and waited a good while before the door had finally opened to reveal the houseowner. The man was quite tall, around the same age as Hjaltalín and Sigurvin, with thinning hair that was greying at the temples, big features, and thick lips under an impressive nose. He was short with strangers, if his behaviour towards Konrád was anything to go by. And he had claimed not to know anything about anything.
‘Bernhard?’ Konrád had said.
‘Who are you?’
‘I was hoping to speak to Bernhard. This is the right address, isn’t it?’
‘I’m Bernhard,’ the man had said curtly.
‘I’m here on a slightly strange errand,’ Konrád had begun. ‘I’m looking into a car accident that took place on Lindargata...’
‘An accident?’ the man said. ‘I don’t know anything about an accident.’
‘No, I wasn’t expecting you to. This was several years ago and they believe it was a jeep, so—’
‘Why are you asking me about this?’ the man interrupted.
‘I’m working for the sister of the man who was knocked down,’ Konrád said, ‘and I understand the police interviewed you about the incident at the time. You were in the area when it happened.’
‘Yes, they spoke to me,’ the man replied, ‘but I wasn’t involved in any accident.’
Konrád had gone on to question him about his wife, who had supposedly been in the car with him, and to ask whether he could confirm the fact.
‘Yes, she was with me,’ the man said. ‘Look, I told the police all this at the time.’
‘Is she in, by any chance?’
‘We’re divorced.’
‘Ah,’ Konrád said. ‘That’s—’
‘I’m afraid I can’t help you,’ the man said, preparing to close the door.
‘Do you still own the jeep you were driving that night?’ Konrád had asked quickly.
‘No. Sorry, I haven’t got time for this. I know nothing about the matter,’ the man had said and closed the door.
Konrád thought about the skeleton of the Wagoneer jeep under the tarpaulin. Although he had no idea who it had belonged to or how it had got there, he could hardly think of a better place to dispose of an incriminating vehicle than in a scrapyard.
48
Sunday passed somehow. That evening, Konrád went round to his son’s house for supper. Noticing how distracted he was, Húgó asked if it was the Sigurvin case that was weighing so heavily on him. Konrád changed the subject. He didn’t stay long, making the excuse that he wanted an early night.
In fact, the night was long and restless. Konrád lay there, wide awake, trying to piece together what he knew about Sigurvin’s fate, as he had so often before. He was sick to death of all the complications in the case that had dominated his life for so long. He kept trying to spot a new angle, new gaps, things that he had overlooked or overinterpreted or undervalued. He thought about the sequence of events from the point of view of each of the players in turn, trying to work out their role, what they had to gain and where their stories overlapped with those of others connected to the case.
But despite considering one scenario after another, he was still none the wiser when finally, mercifully, he dropped off and managed to sleep for a few hours.
The following day, Konrád drove the short distance from his house to the industrial estate on the other side of the big Vesturland road, and parked in front of Bernhard’s scrapyard. The tarpaulin was still in place over the wreck of the jeep and Konrád reckoned he must have replaced it convincingly enough for the owner not to notice that it had been touched. The big doors to the workshop were closed but there was a smaller door beside them, which Konrád now opened. He found his way blocked by a reception desk that prevented visitors from coming any further inside. A couple of minutes passed. He stood by the desk, looking round the spare parts store, which was as filthy and cluttered as the yard outside. There were racks of engine parts and other odds and ends running the length of the workshop. From the ceiling hung exhaust pipes and silencers. The windows at the far end presumably faced west but they were so grimy that it was impossible to see out.
‘Hello!’ Konrád called.
There was no answer. He waited a short while, then went round the desk, saw a small kitchen and stuck his head inside, but it was empty. Off the kitchen was a tiny office in which he caught sight of a computer screen. The background was an image of a sunny tropical island.
He went back out and called again.
‘Yes, just a minute,’ said a voice, and Bernhard appeared almost immediately with an engine part in his hands and a pair of ear protectors round his neck. He recognised Konrád at once.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I just wanted to talk to you about that accident I mentioned. I was going to—’
‘No, I have nothing to say. I know nothing about it, as I’ve already told you. Will you please leave me alone.’ Bernhard turned to go back into the parts store.
‘Is that your old jeep outside? Under the tarpaulin?’
The mechanic turned back to him. ‘Please could you leave, mate,’ he said, his tone serious. ‘I have nothing to say to you.’
‘Am I right that you used to be in the Scouts with a boy called Sigurvin? Does that ring a bell?’
‘Just get out.’ Bernhard started to advance, as if he meant to throw Konrád out physically if he wouldn’t leave of his own accord.
‘I’m sure you’ve heard of him,’ Konrád persisted, not budging an inch. ‘He’s connected to a famous criminal case. Sigurvin’s frozen body was recently found on Langjökull. You must have heard the news.’
Bernhard hesitated. First it had been an accident on Lindargata, now the body in the ice. ‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,’ he said.