“Those guys are real cops,” Benny said, excited. Grímur told him to go home and ushered Sigurbjörn in to take a seat opposite the two detectives. He himself sat by the door. Thórólfur kicked off with: “I’m told the deceased Bryngeir stayed with you on Saturday, is that correct?” “You’d hardly call it stayed,” Sigurbjörn answered. “He came on Saturday and asked to stay the night. We have a spare bed that we sometimes lend to travelers, and he was welcome to it. He also got some food from us when he arrived and then again in the evening. But he was cheeky and incredibly tiring when he was drunk. I threw him out at three in the morning. I’m told he crawled into Krákur’s barn and slept there in some old hay until late on Sunday morning.” “Why did you throw him out?” “He turned out to be such a darned scoundrel. We all went to bed at around midnight, and he was supposed to do the same. But there was something restless about him, and in the middle of the night he sneaked into my daughter’s bedroom stark naked and tried to slip into her bed.
