Ashes to Dust (46 page)

She stopped abruptly but didn’t turn
round. Her voice was cold. ‘Adolf,’ she said. ‘Your daughter
is now on a secure ward, after hurting herself so badly that she can’t be
trusted to be left alone. If you could speak to the doctor, that would be
great; if not, then that’s how it’ll have to be. His name is Dr
Ferdinand Jonsson. Perhaps you can tell him who this “Alda” woman
is that Tinna’s constantly talking about. I don’t know anyone by
that name, so I expect it’s one of your girlfriends.’

‘What does she know about Alda?’
asked Adolf, scarcely recognizing his own voice. ‘She’s not
supposed to know anything about Alda.’

‘I have no idea who she is,’
replied the mother of his child sadly. ‘If Tinna knows her, then it must
be through you. She’s obsessed with her, and goes on and on about how she
knows who was at her house.’ Now she turned to him. ‘I expect she
means you, but she’s on so many drugs that it’s hard to understand
her.’ She turned back
round
and grabbed the
door handle.

Adolf paused for a moment to regain his
composure. He tried to tell himself that he needn’t worry about
this,
he could persuade the girl to stop mentioning Alda. He
would tell her that it could look very bad for him, and she should remember
that he was her father. She would understand that. Now he had one other thing
to worry about.

‘What happened to Tinna?’ he
asked. It must be something very bad, he could feel it as he stared at her
mother’s tense back.

The woman’s shoulders drooped, but she
didn’t turn round. ‘Tinna was found cutting herself.’

Adolf didn’t understand. ‘Cutting
herself
?
A suicide attempt?’

‘No,’ she replied, her tone
defeated. ‘She was trying to eat her own flesh. She thought she’d
already ingested the calories in it, so they didn’t count.’
Now she could hardly speak through her sobs. ‘As if there were any flesh
on her.’

Abruptly she straightened up, opened the
door, walked out and shut it behind her. Adolf stood there open-mouthed, too
shocked to run after her. Tinna was obviously more seriously ill than
he’d thought. He cursed himself for not even having asked the name of the
other disease she was thought to have, besides anorexia. Now he knew which of
them
was the fool
.

Sunday 22 July
2007

Thóra said goodbye and put down the
phone. ‘Well?’ asked Bella impatiently.

‘I don’t know if he was telling
the truth or if he’s still hiding something from me,’ grumbled
Thóra. ‘He might even be out and
out lying
to me.’ She had got Kjartan’s telephone number from the
harbour-master’s office and called in the hope of finding out more about
the alcohol case and seeing if he had anything to say about the pool of blood.
‘After a long argument he admitted having been a suspect in the smuggling
case, and I’m fairly certain that he did play a part in it even though he
hasn’t admitted it.’

‘And this Dadi Horseshoe?’ said
Bella. ‘Did Kjartan say he was guilty?’

‘Yes, he even gave a little speech
about it,’ said Thóra, staring at her phone in exasperation.
‘According to Kjartan, Dadi was the kingpin in the smuggling operation,
which had actually been going on for quite some time. Dadi was in contact with
a couple of sailors on a cargo ship that sailed past here regularly. They would
throw the liquor overboard, attached to an anchor line, and it would float
there until Dadi came to pick it up in a little rowing boat. When the Cod War
started it got harder, since the fishing grounds and the surrounding area were
supervised so closely. That’s how it was uncovered, according to Kjartan.
He was seen fishing up the containers and sailing away with the unidentified
contents. He wasn’t actually caught red-handed with the liquor, but the
police in the Islands were notified of his mysterious trip and Gudni’s
investigation exposed it.’

‘And what was Kjartan’s part in
it supposed to have been?’ asked Bella.

‘As I told you, he denied any
involvement; but he did tell me what he’d been suspected of. The police
thought he was the one taking any spirits that didn’t sell in the Islands
over to the mainland. At the time he was working on a coastal ship for the
State Shipping Company.’

‘That’s a sensible division of
labour,’ said Bella, nodding in approval.

Thóra didn’t respond. ‘He
said the case fell apart: first the eruption halted the investigation in its
tracks,
then
Magnus turned up at the police station
and admitted everything.’

‘Maybe he was the only one
involved,’ Bella said. ‘He didn’t want his innocent friends
to take the blame.’

‘Kjartan said it was absolutely out of
the question that Magnus had anything to do with the smuggling,’ said
Thóra. ‘I completely believe him about this part, because I think
he, Kjartan I mean, was tangled up in it. He said he was amazed when this story
started going around. But he hadn’t had the chance to talk to Magnus or
ask what he’d
confessed,
because the night after
Magnus took the blame the volcano blew its top. When they met during the rescue
operations a short time later, no one discussed it in the hope that it would
simply blow over, which is in fact what happened.’

‘But surely Magnus was up to his neck
in it?’ frowned Bella. ‘Firstly, no one does something like that
for his friends - I don’t care what anyone says. Secondly, we know he
sneaked down to the harbour with Dadi Horseshoe in the middle of the night,
which must have had something to do with the smuggling.’

‘If Kjartan’s telling the truth,
then it’s out of the question. Magnus had his hands full keeping the
company going, and he wouldn’t have had the time or desire to complicate
his life.’

‘So what did Kjartan say about the
blood?’

‘Nothing much,’ said
Thóra. ‘He said he’d heard the story about Dadi and Magnus
being down at the pier that night, but knew nothing about the pool of blood.
Or about the British fishing smack.’
She heaved a
sigh. ‘I hope I can get something out of Magnus.’

‘Do you really think he’ll tell
you anything?’

‘I don’t know. But I do know
he’s one of the only people left alive who know what happened, although
it’s clearly impossible to tell how much of it is still in his
memory.’

‘If I’d murdered four people,
I’d forget everything but that,’ said Bella. ‘I’d
forget everything about work, everyone at the office, but never that.’

Thóra smiled. ‘Hopefully
you’re right,’ she said, crossing her fingers. ‘We’ll
see.’

Magnus was staring fixedly at the compass
Thóra had brought with her. The old books lay in a little pile on a
table next to him, but he’d showed no interest in them. His veiny hands
gripped the arms of the easy chair tightly. ‘Why?’ he asked
suddenly. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the compass, so it was unclear who
should answer the question. Thóra glanced sideways at Maria, who simply
shrugged her shoulders. Thóra placed her hand on Magnus’s grey paw
and was startled at how cold and bony it was. ‘Aren’t you happy to
have the compass back? I found it in the basement.’

The man jerked his head up and glowered at
Thóra. ‘Why?’

She didn’t know what to say. ‘As
far as I knew, you regretted having left it behind during the eruption,’
she said, avoiding his glare. ‘Isn’t that good?’

The old man looked down into his lap and
shook his head, his expression melancholy. ‘You’ve grown old,
Sigridur,’ he said. ‘You were just a little girl.’

‘Like Alda?’ asked
Thóra.
She doubted the name Sigridur was significant,
since Leifur had told her his father was confusing her with his sister.

‘Poor Alda,’ said Magnus, still
shaking his head. ‘That was ugly.’

‘What was ugly?’ asked
Thóra. ‘I’ve forgotten what happened.’ As soon as
she’d said it she realized it was a mistake. The man squinted at her and
appeared to become confused. Maria came to the rescue. ‘Are you cold,
Maggi dear?’ she said good-naturedly, and he calmed down at the sound of
her voice. ‘I’ll fix your blanket,’ she said, standing up to
pull it over his legs.
‘There now.’
She
patted his knee. ‘Be good for Thóra now. She’s helping your
son, Markus.’

‘Markus loves Alda,’ said the old
man, nodding happily. ‘She’s a good girl.’ Then his face
darkened.
‘Ruined.’

‘Ruined?’ exclaimed Thóra.
She added, more calmly: ‘What happened to her? Did she hurt
herself?’

‘Ruined,’ he repeated.
‘The sacrifice.’
He stared hard at the compass
and frowned.
‘Disgusting.
Take it away.’

Thóra had to refrain from shaking the
man by the shoulders as she put the compass away. Damn it, he had the
information she needed. She wondered if it were possible to hypnotize an
Alzheimer’s patient. ‘Alda is dead, Magnus,’ she said.
‘If I’m going to help Markus, I need to know what happened to
her.’

‘Markus,’ said Magnus, turning to
look out of the window. ‘Markus loves Alda.’ He dropped his head
again.

‘I know,’ said Thóra,
reaching for the roughly made purse Bella had found, full of coins that
appeared to be gold. ‘You see what I’ve got here?’ she asked,
showing him the purse. ‘The coins you were looking for.’ He tried
to turn his head away, clearly reluctant to look at it. She opened the purse
and showed him the contents. ‘Gold, Magnus,’ she said. ‘Gold
coins.’ Suddenly he lashed out at the purse, making Thóra lose her
grip. The coins scattered everywhere. Several landed in his lap and he reacted
as if they were made of burning lava, trembling all over, crying out and
trying to shake them off.

Maria jumped to her feet and tried her best
to calm him down. Together they managed to remove the coins. Magnus relaxed a
little. ‘Blood,’ he said.
‘Blood
money.’

‘Blood?’ asked Thóra,
knowing her time here was running out. ‘Did someone die, Magnus? Did four
men die?’

He sat still and looked at her, his
expression cruel. ‘They were evil men, Sigridur.’

‘Evil men,’ he said again, trying
to stand. ‘The falcon is a beautiful bird,’ he added. ‘Not
like the cuckoo.’ His face had softened and the dullness seemed to be
returning to his eyes. ‘It doesn’t hatch its own eggs,’ he
said. ‘Other birds do. Remember that.’

Thóra promised she would.
First a falcon, now a cuckoo.
Perfect. Still, at least it
seemed clear that Magnus had some connection to the old murders. One step
forward, two steps back.

Monday 23 July
2007

Time was going by faster than Thóra
would have liked. As usual she was worried that she wouldn’t make it home
in time to prepare dinner. Her stress was exacerbated by the conviction that
each passing minute increased the likelihood of Markus’s custody period
being prolonged by police request. She was in her office waiting for a call
from Detective Stefán, who would inform her of their decision about
tomorrow’s hearing. She should have had the call by now. She hoped the
decision had been delayed because the police were still scrutinizing the
evidence that had come to light since Markus was locked up, and had found
something that implicated others besides him. Of course, it could be exactly
the opposite scenario; the police couldn’t call her because they were
too busy putting together all the evidence against Markus. The uncertainty made
her uncomfortable, and Thóra didn’t know how to occupy her time.
She was reluctant to use the time for phone calls, in case Stefán called
then didn’t have time to call back. She knew she was being silly, but she
didn’t want to use her phone. So she sat restlessly at her computer. She
knew she should be going over the countless details of the case, but she
couldn’t concentrate on any of them. The minutes ticked by. To make matters
worse, she hadn’t been able to make use of her time aboard the ferry from
the Islands. Her mobile phone had cut out several miles from shore and
didn’t regain a signal until just outside Thórlakshofn. So she had
been unable to continue her quest to tie up this case’s innumerable loose
ends. Instead, she’d been forced to listen to Bella talk about the
guy
she’d met the night before. If Thóra
hadn’t known Matthew would soon be on his way to Iceland, she would have
thrown herself overboard from the shame of Bella having a better sex life than
hers.

The familiar opening notes of ‘Happy
Birthday’ rang out from her mobile, and Thóra quickly answered.
Sóley had changed the ring tone on her birthday, and although she found
it a bit cheesy she couldn’t bring herself to change it, since
Sóley was so pleased with it. Thóra didn’t recognize the
number and she crossed her fingers that it would be Stefán. It turned
out to be Markus’s son, eager for an update. She ran through recent developments
for him, and promised to get in touch as soon as she knew more. The boy sounded
nervous and mumbled something about his father probably having to stay in
prison. Thóra repeated that she would have to let him know, and felt bad
for disappointing the poor boy. Things weren’t going well for him, and
she hoped for his sake that next time she called him it would be with good
news.