Free Where the Shadows Lie (Fire and Ice) by Michael Ridpath

Ísildur, who died young?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Ingileif. ‘It was several years before I was born. Meningitis, I think. I never knew him. My parents didn’t speak about him much. He was their first child, it hit them badly, as you can imagine.’
    ‘Isn’t Ísildur an unusual name?’
    ‘I suppose it is. I hadn’t really thought about it.’
    ‘Do you know why your parents gave him that name?’
    Ingileif shook her head. ‘No idea.’ She seemed nervous and was frowning slightly. Magnus noticed a V-shaped nick above one of her eyebrows, partly hidden by her fringe. Her fingers were fiddling with an intricate silver earring, no doubt designed by one of her colleagues. ‘Except that Ísildur was my great-grandfather’s name, I think. On my father’s side. Maybe my dad wanted to honour his own grandfather. You know how names recur in families.’
    ‘We’d like to ask your parents,’ Magnus asked. ‘Can you give us their address?’
    Ingileif sighed. ‘I’m afraid they are both dead. My father died in 1992, and my mother last year.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Magnus said, and he meant it. Ingileif appeared to be in her late twenties, which would mean she had lost her father at about the same age Magnus was when he lost his mother.
    ‘Were either of them fans of the Lord of the Rings?’
    ‘I don’t think so,’ said Ingileif. ‘I mean, we had a copy in the house so one of them must have read it, but they never mentioned it.’
    ‘And you? Have you read it?’
    ‘When I was a kid.’
    ‘Seen the movies?’
    ‘I saw the first one. Not the other two. I didn’t really like it. When you’ve seen one orc you’ve seen them all.’
    Magnus paused, waiting for more. Ingileif’s pale cheeks blushed red.
    ‘Have you ever heard of an Englishman named Steve Jubb?’
    Ingileif shook her head firmly. ‘No.’
    Magnus glanced at Vigdís. Time to get back to Ingileif and Agnar. ‘Ingileif, were you having an affair with Agnar?’ she asked.
    ‘No,’ Ingileif replied angrily. ‘No, absolutely not.’
    ‘But you found him charming?’
    ‘Yes, I suppose so. He always was charming, and that hasn’t changed.’
    ‘Have you ever had an affair with him?’ Magnus asked.
    ‘No,’ said Ingileif, her voice hoarse again. Her fingers drifted up towards her earring.
    ‘Ingileif, this is a murder investigation,’ Vigdís said slowly and firmly. ‘If you lie to us now then we can arrest you. It will be a serious matter, I can assure you. Now, once more, did you ever have an affair with Agnar?’
    Ingileif bit her lip, her cheeks reddening again. She took a deep breath. ‘OK. All right. I did have an affair with Agnar when I was his student. He was divorced from his first wife then, it was before he remarried. And it was hardly an affair, we slept together a few times, that was all.’
    ‘Did he finish it, or did you?’
    ‘I suppose it was me. He did have a real magnetism for women then, in fact he still had it when I last saw him. He had this way of making you feel special, intellectually interesting as well as beautiful. But he was sleazy, basically. He wanted to sleep with as many girls as he could just to prove to himself what a good-looking guy he was. He was deeply vain. When I saw him the other day he tried to flirt with me again, but I saw through it this time. I don’t mess around with married men.’
    ‘One last question,’ said Vigdís. ‘Where were you on Friday evening?’
    Ingileif’s shoulders lowered marginally as she relaxed, as if this was one difficult question she could answer. ‘I went to a party for a friend who was launching an exhibition of her paintings. I was there from about eight until, maybe, eleven-thirty. There were dozens people there who know me. Her name is Frída Jósefsdóttir. I can give you her address and phone number if you want.’
    ‘Please,’ said Vigdís, passing her her notebook. Ingileif scribbled something on a blank page and handed it back.
    ‘And afterwards?’