The Darkness(42)

At this, Amena became suddenly animated. ‘Elena?’ she said, then added with vehemence: ‘I knew it. Finally.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘When she die, there is something strange. I tell police officer.’

‘The police officer? Was it a man? Was his name Alexander?’

‘A man, yes. He don’t care,’ Amena said. Although her English was halting, she was perfectly capable of getting her message across.

Yet again, Hulda mentally cursed Alexander for his incompetence and prejudice. What else had he ‘forgotten’ to write in his report? The case had supposedly been solved, yet she felt she was fumbling her way in the dark.

‘Why did you think there was something strange about her death?’

‘She get permission to stay. Stay in Iceland. She get a yes.’ The Syrian girl was emphatic.

Hulda nodded to show she understood.

The girl carried on: ‘Nobody who get a yes do this. Jump in the sea. She was very happy, sit downstairs, in reception, talk all evening on the phone. Very happy. We were all very happy. She was a good girl. Warm heart. Honest. Have a difficult life in Russia. But then … next day she is dead. Just dead.’

Hulda nodded, while taking the description with a pinch of salt, suspecting that this rosy view of Elena might be coloured to some extent by their friendship, and by the Syrian girl’s own feelings about what it must be like to be granted asylum.

The enclosed space was beginning to get to Hulda, affecting her ability to concentrate. She had broken out in a sweat, her hands were slippery and her heart was beating unnaturally fast. She had to wrap up this conversation quickly and get out of here. ‘Is it possible that she was brought to Iceland to work as a prostitute?’ she asked.

The question seemed to take Amena completely by surprise. ‘What? Prostitute? Elena? No. No, no, no. Not possible.’ She seemed to be groping for words, for a way to refute the tiny seed of doubt that Hulda’s question had sown in her mind. ‘No, no, I am sure. Elena was not prostitute.’

‘A man was seen picking her up in his car. He was short and fat, and drove a four-by-four – a big car. I thought maybe he was a client …’

‘No, no. Perhaps her lawyer. He drive a big car.’ Amena thought for a moment then qualified this: ‘But he is not fat. I don’t remember name. He is not my lawyer; my lawyer is a woman.’

‘Do you have any idea who the man in the big car could have been? Could he have been someone Elena knew?’

Amena shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

Hulda decided to bring their conversation to an end. Her claustrophobia was so bad now that she was drenched in sweat and mentally exhausted. But before she could say another word, Amena forestalled her: ‘Listen, you must help me. I help you. I cannot go home. I cannot!’ The raw desperation in her voice elicited an instinctive rush of pity in Hulda.

‘Well, I don’t suppose … but I’ll mention it to the police officer on duty. OK?’

‘Ask him to help me. Tell him I help you. Please.’

Hulda nodded again, then, changing the subject, asked: ‘Do you have any idea what really happened to Elena? Did anyone have a reason to murder her and, if so, who?’

‘No,’ Amena replied instantly. ‘No idea. She only know this lawyer. She have no enemies. Very good girl.’

‘I see. Well, thanks for talking to me. I hope things work out for you. It was good to meet someone who knew Elena. What happened to her was very sad. Were you close friends? Best friends?’

‘Best friends?’ Amena shook her head. ‘No, but we were good friends. Her best friend was Katja.’

‘Katja?’

‘Yes, also Russian.’

‘Russian?’ Hulda was so startled that she momentarily forgot her feeling of suffocation. ‘Were there two Russian girls?’

‘Yes. They come here together. Katja and Elena.’

Hell, Hulda thought: Katja had probably left the country months ago, which was frustrating, as Hulda would definitely have liked to talk to her. She needed to get closer to the victim, get a better sense of what had been going through her mind, who she associated with, whether she was afraid of someone, and whether she had really been trafficked to work in the sex industry.

‘Do you know where Katja is?’ she asked, assuming the answer would be no. ‘Was she granted a residence permit, too?’

‘I don’t know. Nobody know.’

‘What do you mean?’ Hulda felt her heart beating faster, though with excitement now, rather than panic.

‘She disappear.’

‘She disappeared? How do you mean?’

‘Yes, disappear. Or run away. She is hiding, maybe. Or leave country. I don’t know.’

‘When did this happen?’

The girl wrinkled her brow. ‘Before Elena die. Some weeks before. Maybe one month. I am not sure.’

‘Weren’t you worried? How did the police react?’

‘Yes … yes, sure. But she just run away. I should have done same … And nobody has found her, I think.’

‘What about Elena, how did she take the news? You say they were best friends?’

‘Well … At first she is angry. She think Katja is stupid. Think they both get permission to stay. But then …’ Amena’s face grew grave. ‘Then she is worried. Very worried.’