Where the Shadows Lie (Fire and Ice)

Johnny was about the least likely person to be one of them.
    He tapped out Johnny’s address and pressed send.
    With any luck, by morning they would know who Isildur was.

CHAPTER TEN
    T HINGHOLT WAS A jumble of brightly coloured little houses in the central 101 postal district of Reykjavík, clinging to the side of the hill below the big church. It was where the artists lived, the designers, the writers, the poets, the actors, the cool and the fashionable.
    It wasn’t really a cop’s neighbourhood, but Magnus liked it.
    Árni drove him along a quiet street just around the corner from the gallery Magnus had visited earlier that afternoon, and stopped outside a tiny house, probably the smallest in the road. The walls were cream concrete, and the roof lime-green corrugated metal, out from which jutted a lone window. Paint on walls and roof was peeling and the grass in the tiny yard at the side of the building was straggly and trampled down. Yet it reminded Magnus of the house he had grown up in as a child.
    Árni rang the doorbell. Waited. Rang the bell again. ‘She’s probably asleep.’
    Magnus checked his watch. It was only seven o’clock. ‘She’s in bed early.’
    ‘No, I mean she hasn’t got up yet.’
    Just then the door opened, and there stood a very tall, black-haired girl, with a pale face, wearing a skimpy T-shirt and shorts. ‘Árni!’ she said. ‘What are you doing waking me up at this hour?’
    ‘What’s wrong with this hour?’ Árni said. ‘Can we come in?’
    The woman nodded, a slow droop of her head, and stood back to let them in. They went through the hallway into a small living room, in which was a long blue sofa, a big TV, a couple of bean bags on the polished wooden floor and a bookcase heaving with books. The walls were panelled in wood; the longest had been painted in swirls of blue, green and yellow, giving an impression of a tropical island.
    ‘This is my sister, Katrín,’ Árni said. ‘This is Magnús. He’s an American friend of mine. He was looking for a place to stay in Reykjavík and so I suggested here.’
    Katrín rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on Magnus. Her top was more of a singlet than a T-shirt, one of her small breasts peeked out. She looked quite a lot like Árni, tall, thin and dark, but where Árni’s features were weak, hers were strong, white face, angled cheekbones and jaw, thick short black hair, big dark eyes.
    ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘How are you?’ She spoke in English, with a British accent.
    ‘I’m doing good,’ Magnus replied. ‘And you?’
    ‘Yeah. Cool,’ she mumbled.
    ‘Shall we sit down and have a chat?’ Árni asked.
    Katrín focused on Magnus, staring him up and down. ‘No. He’s cool. I’m going back to bed.’ And with that she disappeared into a room off the hallway.
    ‘Looks like you passed,’ said Árni. ‘Let me show you the room.’ He led Magnus up some narrow stairs. ‘Our grandparents used to live here. It belongs to both of us now, and we rent out the room on the first floor. Here we are.’
    They emerged into a small room with the basic furniture: bed, table, a couple of chairs and so on. There were two windows, pale evening light streamed in through one, and through the other Magnus could see the spire of the Hallgrímskirkja swooping high above the multicoloured patchwork of metal roofs. ‘Nice view,’ he said.
    ‘Do you like the room?’
    ‘What happened to the previous tenant?’
    Árni looked pained. ‘We arrested him. Last week.’
    ‘Ah. Narcotics?’
    ‘Amphetamines. Small-time dealer.’
    ‘I see.’
    Árni coughed. ‘I would appreciate it if you could keep an eye on Katrín while you’re here. In a low-key way, of course.’
    ‘Will she mind that? I mean, is she happy sharing a place with a cop?’
    ‘There’s no need to tell her what you do, is there, do you think? And I wouldn’t let Chief Superintendent Thorkell know you are staying here.’
    ‘Uncle Thorkell wouldn’t approve?’
    ‘Let’s just say that Katrín isn’t his favourite niece.’
    ‘How much is the rent?’
    Árni mentioned a figure that seemed very reasonable. ‘It would have been twice that a year ago,’ he assured Magnus.
    ‘I believe you.’ Magnus smiled. He liked the little room, he liked the tiny house, he liked the view, and he even liked the look of the weird sister. ‘I’ll take it.’
    ‘Excellent,’ said Árni. ‘Now let’s go and get your stuff from your hotel.’
    It didn’t take long to