afternoon of the murder, Martin – or someone acting as Martin – was playing Call of Duty online.’
‘Who with?’
‘Three people. Two Germans and a Dutchman.’
Ólafur glanced at Vigdís. ‘Sounds as if Martin may be telling the truth. He was playing a computer game when the shot was heard at about five or five-fifteen.’
Vigdís’s heart had leaped at the news, but she was determined not to let it blind her. She needed her head to be in control.
‘Possibly,’ she said. ‘Alex may have gone out and shot Halldór while Martin was playing the game. Or Martin may have constructed an alibi somehow with some German friends.’
‘Björn, see what the digital guys can do to confirm that he really was online. And get the Europol people in Reykjavík to get in touch with Germany. We need real detectives to talk to real people about this, not online bullshit.’
‘It will take a while to go through Europol.’
‘Which is why we need to get on to it quickly.’
‘Yes, Ólafur!’
‘Now, let’s talk to Gudrún.’ Ólafur hesitated. ‘And Vigdís. I’ll lead, but if you want to ask something, do.’
Halldór’s daughter looked alone and vulnerable in the interview room. Ólafur switched on the recorder and introduced himself, Vigdís, the uniformed officer and Gudrún.
‘Why am I here?’ Gudrún said. She looked scared.
‘Because you lied to us,’ said Ólafur.
‘Lied? What do you mean?’
‘You didn’t tell us that you had left university two days early to try to save the mother polar bear. Or that you had had a big argument with your father just before he died.’
The anxiety on Gudrún’s face ratcheted up. ‘Did my brother tell you this?’
‘Yes. And your tutor at the university. But the question is, why didn’t you tell us?’
Gudrún lowered her eyes to the desk.
‘Look at me, Gudrún,’ said Ólafur. ‘Why did you lie to us?’
Gudrún didn’t look up.
‘Are you Foxgirl?’ Vigdís asked. ‘Did you tell Alex and Martin to come to Raufarhöfn and disrupt the hunt for the other bear?’
Now Gudrún looked up. She nodded miserably.
‘Did you think we wouldn’t find out?’
‘I don’t know. I suppose so.’
‘Did you talk to Martin and Alex when they got here?’ Vigdís asked.
‘No,’ said Gudrún. ‘I didn’t want them to know that I was Foxgirl. That I was the daughter of the man who had shot the polar bear. And I didn’t want Dad to find out that I had been in touch with them. So I kept quiet.’
‘Does anyone know that you are Foxgirl?’
‘My friends at the university. And a couple of people around here.’
‘Sonja Jósepsdóttir? The teacher in Húsavík?’
‘Yes. She would know who I am.’
‘But not Martin Fiedler and Alex Einarsson?’
‘No. And definitely not Dad.’
‘So what did you argue with your father about?’ Ólafur asked.
‘Him shooting the polar bear.’ Gudrún shook her head. ‘I know him. He wanted the glory. He wanted to be the one who shot the bear. In Bolungarvík in the West Fjords they have a stuffed polar bear in the museum. Dad would have loved that. A little museumwith a stuffed polar bear “shot by Constable Halldór Sveinsson”.’ She shuddered. ‘Horrible.’
‘And what did he say when you criticized him?’
‘He said that he had to shoot the bear to protect the little girl. But that’s not what really happened. Lilja in the petrol station told me that the farmer next door saw the whole thing. Dad wasn’t saving the little girl; he was using her as bait to shoot the bear. With a .22! He could easily have missed and then the girl would be dead. All for his vanity!’
Then Gudrún put her hand to her mouth and began to sob. ‘Listen to me, blaming him. He’s dead now! And I hated him just before he died. He and I loved each other. Why did it have to end like that? With a fight? I want him back. I want Mum back.’
Ólafur and Vigdís watched the girl break down in front of them. Vigdís glanced
‘Who with?’
‘Three people. Two Germans and a Dutchman.’
Ólafur glanced at Vigdís. ‘Sounds as if Martin may be telling the truth. He was playing a computer game when the shot was heard at about five or five-fifteen.’
Vigdís’s heart had leaped at the news, but she was determined not to let it blind her. She needed her head to be in control.
‘Possibly,’ she said. ‘Alex may have gone out and shot Halldór while Martin was playing the game. Or Martin may have constructed an alibi somehow with some German friends.’
‘Björn, see what the digital guys can do to confirm that he really was online. And get the Europol people in Reykjavík to get in touch with Germany. We need real detectives to talk to real people about this, not online bullshit.’
‘It will take a while to go through Europol.’
‘Which is why we need to get on to it quickly.’
‘Yes, Ólafur!’
‘Now, let’s talk to Gudrún.’ Ólafur hesitated. ‘And Vigdís. I’ll lead, but if you want to ask something, do.’
Halldór’s daughter looked alone and vulnerable in the interview room. Ólafur switched on the recorder and introduced himself, Vigdís, the uniformed officer and Gudrún.
‘Why am I here?’ Gudrún said. She looked scared.
‘Because you lied to us,’ said Ólafur.
‘Lied? What do you mean?’
‘You didn’t tell us that you had left university two days early to try to save the mother polar bear. Or that you had had a big argument with your father just before he died.’
The anxiety on Gudrún’s face ratcheted up. ‘Did my brother tell you this?’
‘Yes. And your tutor at the university. But the question is, why didn’t you tell us?’
Gudrún lowered her eyes to the desk.
‘Look at me, Gudrún,’ said Ólafur. ‘Why did you lie to us?’
Gudrún didn’t look up.
‘Are you Foxgirl?’ Vigdís asked. ‘Did you tell Alex and Martin to come to Raufarhöfn and disrupt the hunt for the other bear?’
Now Gudrún looked up. She nodded miserably.
‘Did you think we wouldn’t find out?’
‘I don’t know. I suppose so.’
‘Did you talk to Martin and Alex when they got here?’ Vigdís asked.
‘No,’ said Gudrún. ‘I didn’t want them to know that I was Foxgirl. That I was the daughter of the man who had shot the polar bear. And I didn’t want Dad to find out that I had been in touch with them. So I kept quiet.’
‘Does anyone know that you are Foxgirl?’
‘My friends at the university. And a couple of people around here.’
‘Sonja Jósepsdóttir? The teacher in Húsavík?’
‘Yes. She would know who I am.’
‘But not Martin Fiedler and Alex Einarsson?’
‘No. And definitely not Dad.’
‘So what did you argue with your father about?’ Ólafur asked.
‘Him shooting the polar bear.’ Gudrún shook her head. ‘I know him. He wanted the glory. He wanted to be the one who shot the bear. In Bolungarvík in the West Fjords they have a stuffed polar bear in the museum. Dad would have loved that. A little museumwith a stuffed polar bear “shot by Constable Halldór Sveinsson”.’ She shuddered. ‘Horrible.’
‘And what did he say when you criticized him?’
‘He said that he had to shoot the bear to protect the little girl. But that’s not what really happened. Lilja in the petrol station told me that the farmer next door saw the whole thing. Dad wasn’t saving the little girl; he was using her as bait to shoot the bear. With a .22! He could easily have missed and then the girl would be dead. All for his vanity!’
Then Gudrún put her hand to her mouth and began to sob. ‘Listen to me, blaming him. He’s dead now! And I hated him just before he died. He and I loved each other. Why did it have to end like that? With a fight? I want him back. I want Mum back.’
Ólafur and Vigdís watched the girl break down in front of them. Vigdís glanced
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