Ashes to Dust (17 page)

‘Such as what?’ asked Bella
indifferently.
‘What happens to make someone end up
carrying round a head in a box?’

‘Good question,’ said
Thóra. There was certainly something to what Bella said. What
sequence of events had to take place for a teenage girl to come into possession
of a human head? ‘In any case, I still find it very unlikely that she
murdered someone at such a young age.’

‘Why?’ asked Bella. ‘I’ve
never been more likely to kill someone than during my teenage years.’ She
stared at Thóra. ‘I could probably have done it quite
easily.’

Thóra smiled reluctantly.
‘Hardly,’ was all she said, although in her heart she did not
agree. She was in no doubt that Bella was capable of such an act, both then and
now. Thóra had no time to consider this any further, because someone
tapped on her shoulder.
Behind her stood a woman of around
forty.
She was dressed in a blue trouser suit, and the name tag on her
lapel
read  Jóhanna
Thórgeirsdóttir. This must be Alda’s sister. Leifur had
certainly stood by his word from the night before.

‘Hello, are you Thóra
Gudmundsdóttir?’ said the woman in a low voice. Her eyes were
reddened and her face haggard. ‘The woman on reception pointed you out to
me.’

Thóra stood up and shook the
woman’s hand warmly, but the expression in the eyes that met hers was
anything but friendly.
‘Yes, hello.
You must be
Alda’s sister.’ She squeezed I he woman’s hand.
‘My condolences for the loss of your sister.’
She released her hand, since the woman only held it limply. I didn’t
expect you to come and see me, and I hope that Leifur didn’t press it on
you
.‘

The expression on the woman’s face
tightened another notch. ‘I didn’t speak to Leifur. He spoke to the
branch director, who sent me here. Leifur’s a close acquaintance of his,
and close acquaintances get good service. As I understand it, he’s
not to be offended.’

Thóra swallowed her irritation at
Leifur. She had understood his words to mean that he knew Alda’s
sister, and that he himself would speak to her. She hadn’t expected a
woman who had recently lost her sister to be sent to her like a pizza delivery
boy.

‘I am sincerely sorry,’ was all
she could say as her anger subsided. She paused a moment. This degraded woman
standing before her deserved better. ‘You don’t have to speak to me
if you don’t want to. I understand that you’re suffering and I
don’t wish to take advantage of Leifur’s insensitivity or that of
the man you work for. They don’t run my errands.’

The woman looked up and squared her jaw.
‘The branch manager is actually a woman.’ She looked around.
‘And actually I’d be happy to sit down for a moment. Two of
the four clerks called in sick this morning, but the bank’s work regulations
stipulate that there must always be two cashiers out front. I’m one of
the two who came to work today.’ She pointed at the sofa in front of the
reception desk. ‘Let’s sit down there. Then my manager can decide
whether she or the cleaning lady will fill in for me.’

Thóra smiled approvingly at
Alda’s sister. ‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘But can I
suggest that we sit in the cafeteria instead? It’s quieter and
we’ve got a better chance of getting coffee there.’ She sent Bella
away and they sat down over cups of coffee at a little wooden table in the
farthest corner of the cafeteria.

‘First of all, I should warn you that I
still haven’t recovered from the news about Alda,’
said  Jóhanna
as she took her seat.
‘Although there were eight years between us, we were very good friends.
We weren’t in daily contact, but we were close nevertheless.’ She
took a sip of coffee, placed the cup back awkwardly on its saucer and adjusted
it carefully. ‘I don’t believe she committed suicide. She would never
do that. It must have been an
accident,
or something
worse.’ She looked up. ‘I expect everyone who experiences a
relative killing himself or herself thinks that way, but it’s not like
that. Alda wasn’t the kind of person to commit suicide.’

Thóra realized that the woman
didn’t know why she’d asked to meet her. I didn’t ask to see
you to discuss Alda’s tragic death
.‘
She
took a deep breath. ’I’m afraid I don’t know the
circumstances so I can’t comment on it. I’m working for Markus,
Leifur’s younger brother. He’s in a rather difficult position, you
might say, because three bodies were found in the basement of his childhood
home. Alda’s name came up in the investigation and I was hoping that you
could either tell me something that might help Markus or point me towards someone
who can.‘ Thóra stopped and waited for the woman’s reaction.
She thought it highly likely that she would thank her abruptly and say goodbye.

 Jóhanna looked at Thóra,
apparently quite surprised. ‘Of course I’ve read the news and heard
people talking about the bodies. It’s a hot topic here in town,
understandably.’ She seemed slightly embarrassed as she continued.
‘They said Markus was involved, but I thought it was just gossip since he
hasn’t been mentioned in the papers. I’ve never heard Alda’s
name mentioned
,
I’ve only heard that they were
British people who had probably been murdered before the eruption.’

‘British?’ exclaimed
Thóra. ‘Do you know where that story came from?’ Could her
hypothesis about the Cod War have been correct?

‘I haven’t really tried to find
out,’ replied the woman. ‘I’ve had other things to think
about. But I seem to recall the autopsy uncovered that.’

Thóra stiffened. Was it possible that
the majority of the town’s residents had heard about developments in the
investigation before those involved had been given the information? She
tried not to display any emotion, but she was itching to rush down to the
police station and give Inspector Leifsson an earful. ‘I haven’t
heard that so I don’t know if it’s correct,’ she said.
‘Whether it’s true or not, the case is in the hands of the police
and the investigation is still in its initial stages. As it is, I only have
knowledge pertaining to my client, and Alda’s death was a hard blow for
him to bear. She was privy to information that could have kept the
investigation afloat and shed light on his innocence.’

 Jóhanna shifted in her seat,
breathing quickly, her pupils dilated. ‘Do you think that someone
murdered her to keep her quiet?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘That must
be the explanation.’ She placed one hand on her chin. ‘Could
the man responsible for the deaths of the people in the basement have killed
Alda?’

‘Let’s not get ahead of
ourselves,’ said Thóra calmly. ‘As I said, I’m not
sure how Alda’s death is connected to the case, if at all. I’m trying
to figure that out.’ She didn’t want to say that this case might
explain Alda’s suicide — if indeed she had committed suicide.
Similar things had happened, when someone didn’t trust himself to stare
his own misdeeds in the face, and instead chose the unknown. ‘It’s
entirely possible that there is a connection. At the very least, it’s a
strange coincidence.’

‘What do you want to know?’
asked  Jóhanna
resolutely. ‘I want to help
in any possible way I can.’

Irritation at Leifur overwhelmed
Thóra.
If he had responded in the right way, she would
have been, better prepared.
She asked the first question that came to
mind: ‘I know that you went with your mother and sister to the mainland
the night of the eruption. Do you remember seeing Markus and Alda speaking to
each other on board the ship?’

 Jóhanna’s eyes widened.
‘It’s strange, but I remember the sea voyage as if it happened
yesterday. I was only seven years old but that night was an experience
I’ve never been able to forget. I thought war had broken out.’

‘And did you happen to see whether Alda
and Markus spoke?’ asked Thóra patiently.

‘Actually, I think I did,’
replied  Jóhanna
. ‘I held tightly to my
mother’s hand on one side and to Alda’s on the other, and I
remember I didn’t want to let go when she tried to walk away. I’m
pretty sure that it was with Markus. They went off somewhere but I don’t
know
where,
or how long they were gone. I just
remember that I cried the whole time she was away, because I was sure she
wouldn’t come back.’

‘Are you happy to declare this to the
police?’ asked Thóra, trying to mask her delight. This was all
going very well.

‘Yes, I think so,’
replied  Jóhanna
. ‘My mother might
remember it too, and she’s probably a better witness, since she was older
than me when it happened, naturally.’ She fiddled with her teaspoon on
the saucer. ‘She’s not in any fit state for an interview at the
moment, because of Alda, but she’ll get over it, hopefully. Dad died
quite recently after a long struggle against cancer, so she’s suffered a
lot this year.’

‘I understand,’ said
Thóra. ‘I heard you moved to the Westfjords after the disaster.
How was Alda at that time? I realize you were young, but do you remember
whether she changed in any way? Did she behave differently or seem depressed at
all?’

 Jóhanna shook her head.
‘No, I don’t think so. Alda went to boarding school soon after we
moved west, so I didn’t see her much. Like everyone else in the family
she’d been uprooted, so naturally she may not have been quite herself. I
think Mother would know better than me.’

‘What school was she sent to?’
Thóra asked. Maybe she could look up some of Alda’s schoolfriends.

‘I’m pretty sure it was
Isafjördur Junior College,’
said
 Jóhanna
.

Thóra tried not to reveal her
surprise, but this didn’t sound right. ‘I understood from her
girlfriends that she went to Reykjavik Junior College? Was that not the
case?’

‘No, not at
all,’
 Jóhanna
replied. ‘She changed schools in the autumn,
wanting to be in Reykjavik rather than the west, since we’d all gone from
there back to the Islands.’

This didn’t add up. How could Alda have
started school in the middle of the winter term, a year above the one she
should have been in? Markus had been the same age as Alda and her classmates,
and he was still in secondary school the year of the eruption. ‘Was Alda
a good student?’ she asked.

‘Yes, very good,’
said  Jóhanna
. ‘She was always incredibly
conscientious and hard-working. She actually enjoyed learning. Not like
me.’ She smiled, but it faded quickly. ‘It’s funny,’
she said, although she didn’t look at all amused, ‘I’ve lain
there thinking about what could have happened to Alda but it never crossed my
mind that this could be connected to the bodies in the basement. I was so
certain that it had something to do with her work at the A&E, that one of
those disgusting rapists had broken into her house and killed her.’

‘Well, there’s no evidence that
that’s what happened,’ said Thóra. ‘So maybe this case
of the corpses is connected to Alda’s death in some way.’

‘Yes, I’m convinced it is,’
said  Jóhanna
determinedly, crossing her
arms.

Thóra knew that people who were
grieving often held on to the slenderest threads of hope, clinging to illogical
theories and explanations. It was a way to focus their minds on something
other than the grief and guilt they would feel for the rest of their lives.

‘I’m sure the truth will come
out,’ said Thóra, although she didn’t feel sure at all.
‘These rapists you mentioned, did Alda have much contact with them? I
would have thought she’d have dealt with the victims, not the
perpetrators.’ Markus had told Thóra about Alda’s work for
the Emergency Reception Unit.

‘When you put it like that, I suppose
it doesn’t make much sense,’
replied
 Jóhanna
. ‘To my knowledge she didn’t ever meet
them, but I was imagining that one of them could somehow have found out her
name and set out for revenge. She’s had to testify in at least two cases.
She’d actually had enough, and she’d just resigned from the unit
when this tragedy happened. Something came up at work that she never had time
to tell me about. She was planning to fly here next weekend to stay with me,
she said she needed to tell me something and wanted to do it face to
face.’

‘She was going to come here?’
asked Thóra. ‘From talking to her childhood girlfriends, I thought
she never came back after the evacuation.’

‘That’s true, she
didn’t,’
agreed  Jóhanna
.
‘The eruption affected her so badly that she never trusted herself to
return. Also she was at school, and worked every summer. I’m not sure
that it was a conscious decision of
hers,
it just
turned out that way. She might have wanted to cut her ties to the Westmann
Islands, although she never said anything like that to me. What was really
tragic was that after the disaster, kids from the Islands never wanted to say
where they came from. We were looked down on and made to feel as if we were
parasites feeding off the rest of the country. You can’t accuse

Icelanders of being sensitive to the needs of
others, even their own
countrymen
. Their compassion
doesn’t reach very far. Alda might have wanted to put some distance
between herself and the Islands because of that
.‘