Category:

2012

The despairing silence was broken.

There was someone at the front door, knocking loudly. Helgi got to his feet.

He had been sitting on the sofa with a detective novel, trying to calm himself down before bed by losing himself in a fictional world, but now the peace was over.

He and Bergthóra rented a basement flat in an old house not far from Reykjavík's Laugardalur area. The whole house was rented out, the flat upstairs occupied by a couple with two children. Apparently the landlord lived overseas. Helgi didn't get on particularly well with the other tenants, who had a tendency to be rude and interfering, as if their rights took precedence just because they lived in the larger half of the house. As a result, relations between the basement and upstairs were strictly limited and frosty at best.

Helgi was afraid it was the neighbour at the door now, sticking his nose in yet again. But there was another, worse possibility.

He moved reluctantly towards the hall. The sitting room was cosy, the walls lined from floor to ceiling with books—his books; a comfy armchair by the shelves and a decent-sized sofa in front of the television. There were scented candles on the coffee table, but Helgi hadn't lit them. Not this time. He'd put a record on the stereo, though; a real vinyl one. The stereo was new and connected up to the home cinema, but the records he played were old jazz LPs that had belonged to his father. The heavy banging on the front door broke through the soothing music, wrecking the tranquil atmosphere that had settled over the flat.

Hell, Helgi thought.

He had reached the hall when there was another round of hammering, even louder this time. He drew a sharp breath, then took hold of the handle, pausing briefly to collect himself before he turned the latch and opened the door.

Outside stood a uniformed police officer, a broad-shouldered young man in his mid-twenties, with strong features. He was standing in the glow of the outside light, brightly illuminated in the evening darkness, wearing a look of grim determination, as if he were anticipating a fight. Helgi didn't recognize him. In the shadows, a little behind him, stood another officer. He seemed more at his ease, judging by his stance, though Helgi couldn't make out his face.

'Good evening,' said the illuminated officer. His voice wasn't as authoritative as Helgi had been expecting; in fact he thought he detected a faint tremor. Perhaps the determined set of the man's features was just a ploy to disguise his nerves. Perhaps it was his first shift. 'Helgi? Helgi Reykdal?'

Although Helgi, now in his early thirties, wasn't that much older than the man asking his name, he sensed he had the advantage over this young officer.

'Helgi Reykdal, yes, that's right. Why, what's up?' he asked smoothly, shifting the balance of power slightly.

'We've received—that's to say...' The young policeman hesitated, as Helgi had guessed he might. 'A complaint has been received...'

Helgi interrupted. 'A complaint? Who from?' He wasn't going to let himself appear flustered.

'Well, we... er, we can't reveal that.'

'There's a bloke upstairs,' Helgi said, smiling. 'He's a bloody nuisance, always complaining. I reckon he must be unhappily married or something. You can't so much as raise your voice, or, I don't know, you can't even turn up the TV, without him banging on the floor with a broom handle. And now I see he's called the police.'

'He heard a loud altercation...' The young officer broke off mid-sentence, clearly realizing that he had said too much. 'That's to say, we received a complaint...'

'You already mentioned that,' Helgi said, unfazed.

'A complaint about a loud disturbance at this address—a quarrel and screaming. More serious than your average row.'

At that moment the other police officer emerged from the shadows, looked Helgi straight in the eye, then took a step closer. 'You know, I thought the name sounded familiar,' he said to Helgi.