Snowblind by Ragnar Jónasson Read Free Book Online Page A

decorated a living room like this. It was like a step back in time, with a beautiful wooden floor, mostly hidden by an oddly patterned brown-and-white carpet. There were two narrow bookcases, dark brown and workmanlike. The landlord had clearly taken the books away – there were just a few paperbacks on the shelves, a mixture of whodunits and romantic novels, and onebeautifully bound copy of North of the Hills by Hrólfur Kristjánsson. On the long wall behind the sofa hung a print of a well-known painting and opposite it stood the piano, buried under a stack of music.
    Ugla appeared from the kitchen with a steaming mug.
    ‘I hope I’m not breaking any laws by teaching piano lessons without a permit,’ she said, handing him the mug and two tea bags. ‘I only have two kinds of tea,’ she apologised.
    ‘Thanks. If it happens to be illegal, then I’ll turn a blind eye.’ Ari Thór smiled and dipped a teabag in the hot water. ‘The police have better things to do than chase unlicensed teachers,’ he said, and wondered if that was really the case. Those first few days in Siglufjördur had been an interesting experience, with regular patrols undertaken in the big jeep but not a lot to do. Hardly anyone ever broke a speed limit, at least not inside the town and certainly not on the snow-covered mountain roads with that sheer drop on the far side of the tunnel. It was more to do with the danger than the possibility of a fine. He had attended one road accident, a minor rear-end shunt, and had twice been asked to unlock cars. A few times he had ferried drunks home; it was clear that the police provided a range of services here.
    ‘I’m going to get myself a coffee,’ Ugla said. ‘Then we can start the lesson.’
    Each lesson was supposed to be forty-five minutes, but the previous week Ari Thór had spent an hour after the lesson chatting to Ugla.
    Over the last few weeks he had felt every inch the newcomer to a strange place. Nobody approached him and yet everyone knew who he was – knew who everyone was in this cloistered town. Nobody spoke to him at the gym or the pool, although he often caught the locals giving him appraising glances, checking out this new addition to the town’s police force.
    On one occasion he had been about to issue a fine for using a mobile phone behind the wheel to a local.
    ‘Who the hell are you? You’re a police officer? I didn’t know we had a new cop here,’ said the driver scathingly.
    Ari Thór knew perfectly well that the man knew better.
    ‘How do I know you haven’t just stolen a car and a uniform?’ the driver had pressed on, his half-smile arrogant.
    Ari Thór had smiled back.
    ‘I’m not going to issue a fine this time around.’ He was courteous, in spite of his frustration. ‘Just don’t do it again.’ Next time he wouldn’t be so understanding.
    He knew that people were keeping an eye on him. He had once forgotten to indicate at a corner while on patrol in the car and when he next ran into Tómas, he was told that an unidentified passer-by had complained.
    ‘You didn’t think this would be a walk in the park, did you? There aren’t murders and the like here, but it’s still no kindergarten,’ Tómas warned.
    It made him feel very alone. He felt like a stranger who had come to Siglufjördur for a weekend, and then found his stay extended day by day; like a traveller who had forgotten to buy a return ticket.
    He could chat to Tómas and Hlynur about everyday things over a coffee at the police station, but this was superficial stuff about politics and sport.
    He saw right away that Ugla was different. She was warm and welcoming, gave freely of her time and could listen attentively when it was needed.
    Ugla returned with her coffee and didn’t seem to be in any hurry to start the lesson.
    ‘Are you enjoying Siglufjördur so far?’ she asked, half-smiling.
    ‘Well, it’s OK,’ he said, rather hesitant.
    ‘I know. It’s difficult to begin with, it’s such a