House of Evidence(8)
Halldór knew that Egill meant Hrefna Hilmarsdóttir, their colleague. They had been working together that week and it had apparently not been altogether peaceful.
Erlendur continued to offer his opinion: “Typical of these broads. Nothing but trouble.” He shook his head, pretending to be terribly shocked.
Halldór sat down and leafed through some reports that were ready for the prosecutor. He was irritated by the style of Egill’s writing about the assault and the report’s many spelling errors. He pushed the papers to one side, planning on correcting it later. He glanced at a report on an alleged rape that Hrefna had written; it was tidy and well written, but it was obvious where the writer’s sympathies lay. Hrefna occasionally forgot that everyone is innocent until proven guilty, but there was nothing in this report that actually overstepped the mark so Halldór approved it.
Just then his telephone rang.
“Detective division, Halldór speaking,” he answered and then grabbed a pad and began jotting down some notes. “We’ll be there immediately,” he said and hung up.
“A man’s been found dead,” he announced as he stood up. “The guys at the downtown station need help. They say there are signs of assault.”
Egill brightened, and then turned back to his phone call. “Look, I don’t have time for this; we’ve got work to do here.” He slammed the phone down, and called to Halldór, “I’ll get the car.”
Halldór turned to Erlendur. “Get Hrefna and follow us. Tell forensics too, and remember to change your footwear. Here’s the address.”
He tore a page from his pocket diary and passed it to Erlendur before walking out.
Diary I
July 21, 1910. Have at long last got rid of the fatigue from our journey, but am still suffering from a cold. Young Matthías has contracted scarlet fever and has to be in isolation in his room…
July 25, 1910. Went to watch a 500-meter running race at Melarnir. Ólafur came first. Not many spectators, only two to three hundred people…
August 2, 1910. My journey abroad is in preparation…
Hrefna lay awake in her bed gazing up at the white ceiling. In spite of having worked long into the night, she had woken early, around ten o’clock, unable to sleep any more, and now she had been just lying there for an hour.
I’m a detective, she thought. Once upon a time that had seemed a big word to her. Two years ago she was just a cop, a woman in an ill-fitting uniform that had been designed with a man’s body in mind. It had been a relief to not have to wear that outfit anymore. Now, however, she was thinking about her plans for the future. She knew she had abilities that were not being exploited in this job. The only thing she lacked was self-confidence, but that had grown as she had gotten older. At thirty-three years old, she was ready to tackle something new, which is why the resignation letter was in her handbag.
Hrefna missed those lazy mornings long ago when she had been able to sleep in. That had all changed when Elsa was born. She had been only eighteen years old at the time, and now Elsa was fifteen. Elsa was going to be okay—indeed, Hrefna felt at times that her daughter was the more mature of the two of them. In a way, they had grown up together, but Elsa was quicker and more successful at exploiting the talents she possessed.
Hrefna sat up on the side of the bed and shivered. The window was open and a cold breeze was blowing in; she was wearing only panties and her yellow-and-red Led Zeppelin T-shirt. She reached for her thick bathrobe that lay under a pile of clothes on the chair next to the bed, and, after putting it on, went into the bathroom.
Her blond hair was far too long, she thought, as she looked at herself in the mirror over the sink. She brushed her teeth carefully, noticing the front tooth that was crooked and overlapped its neighbor. Her dentist had tried to convince her that she should have it fixed, but she didn’t want to; someone had once told her that it made her look aggressive and she liked that.
Elsa was already at school and Hrefna was on call that day after four long shifts in a row. Perhaps she would have the day off and could use the time to do some long-overdue tidying of the apartment. The last few days had been grueling.
A young woman in her twenties had brought forth a charge of rape, and she had taken the victim’s statement. This was her usual role in the detective division and probably the only reason she had been recruited there. They felt they needed a woman for such interviews, and she was good at it. She knew that in order for a case to hold up in court, the victim would need to know exactly what had happened, and Hrefna was adept at getting the women to express themselves. The victims often had problems finding the right words to describe what had happened to them, and she was able to help them by showing them previous reports. For while each crime was unique, the language for these crimes had long since been standardized.