My Soul to Take: A Novel of Iceland (29 page)
Back on the ground floor, Thora and Matthew decided to call it a day. They said goodbye to Berta and thanked her for her help. Matthew sent his regards to Steini, while Thora struggled to suppress the urge to ask what had happened to him. Suddenly the question slipped out. "Berta, I hope you don't mind me asking, but what happened to your friend?" she said in a low enough voice to be inaudible in the kitchen.
Berta sighed heavily. "He was in a car crash. A car hit his and it caught fire. He was smoking," she said, her voice as low as Thora's.
"Jesus," said Thora. "That's awful. Is he paralyzed?"
"No," replied the girl. "At least, there's no spinal damage. His legs are just in such a bad state that he can't walk properly. Some of the muscles were burned, and the skin transplant is still bothering him. Hopefully I'll be able to get him to start physiotherapy again soon. It just takes time." She took a quick peek around the corner to make sure Steini was out of earshot. "The worst part is that the man who drove into him was drunk. Steini was stone-cold sober."
"And what happened to him?" Thora asked. "Was he punished?"
Berta smiled coldly. "You could call it that. He died in the accident. His wife too." She paused for a moment as if deciding whether to say more, then went ahead. "They were from a farm around here, actually. Their daughter is Rosa, Bergur's wife."
Well, I never, Thora thought. All roads led to Bergur the farmer.
THORA
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the computer in Jonas's office, speaking to him on the phone. "The police will present the judge with evidence of your alleged guilt, and I'll try to show that it's irrelevant or insufficient. Afterward the judge will question you and you have the chance to answer the allegations. You aren't obliged to answer, but I don't recommend you refuse, except in absolutely exceptional circumstances."
"Don't I get the opportunity to plead innocent?" asked Jonas, frightened. "I can't believe the judge won't be able to see that I'm telling the truth. Judges have to be particularly insightful, don't they?"
Thora could not prevent a laugh from escaping her and had to put her hand over the mouthpiece. "Jonas," she said, recovering herself, "judges are just ordinary people and they can reach wrong conclusions like anybody else. Also, the judge has to take into account the evidence presented to him. If it clearly indicates that you're guilty or hiding something, he has to base his decision on that, no matter how convincingly you declare that you're innocent."
"I'm scared shitless," Jonas said feelingly. Thora hoped he could reproduce this level of emotion when he pleaded innocent the next morning. You never knew with judges.
"Of course you are, Jonas," she said, "but don't let it overwhelm you. Just remember that I'll be with you tomorrow, and hopefully it will all turn out fine."
"What are you going to say?" he asked. "Will you come up with something new?"
"Well, a lot of things would have to happen tonight. You're being brought before the judge at ten o'clock, and I doubt that I can find anything out by then." There was no mistaking the desperation underlying the silence on the other end of the line. "But I'll do everything in my power, I promise."
"Anything!" said Jonas. "If only you could find the murderer, or someone who'd pretend to be him!"
"I'd have to try pretty hard to find an actor who'll confess in court to a crime he didn't commit." Thora jiggled the mouse and the screen in front of her lit up. "What's your password, Jonas? I've switched on your computer but I can't get in."
"hashish," Jonas said. "All lowercase."
Thora groaned. "Are you out of your mind?" she said. "I'll change it. If the police were to confiscate your computer, that's not the sort of password we want them to see. I'll choose something more innocent." Immediately after they rang off she changed the password. "amnesty," she said out loud. "All lowercase."
"Who are you talking to?" as
ked Matthew as he came in. "The
ghost?"
Thora looked up, smiling. "Yes, I thought it was worth a try. Maybe it can tell us the name of the murderer before ten tomorrow morning."
Matthew flung himself theatrically into the chair facing Thora. He tossed a thick bundle of papers on to the desk. "I identified several of the cars," he said.
Thora picked up the papers. Matthew had taken the list out to the parking lot to check whether any vehicle belonging to the guests or staff had gone through the Hvalfjordur Tunnel the day Eirikur was killed.
"How did you manage to go through so many registration numbers and names?" she asked. "How many are there, anyway?"
"About five thousand, but the police were kind enough to go through the list and mark those that might be linked to the murder. They include the cars of some of the hotel staff," Matthew said. "The rental cars were the problem, because the company is registered as the owner, so those entries aren't much use on their own."
"So you've compared the numbers with the plates in the car park?" Thora asked.
"Yes. I found a few rental numbers outside that were on the list, and I enlisted the services of Vigdis," Matthew said. "She came into the car park with me and told me who owned what. It's uncanny how good her memory is." He reached over to the pile of papers and flicked through it. "Unfortunately that wasn't much help. The drivers of the rental cars are all foreigners, of course, and none of them looks like a suspect. I do know, however, that neither the Japanese father and son nor Robin the photographer took the tunnel that day."
"Robin said he'd been in the West Fjords," Thora said. "That fits in with not taking the tunnel. According to Vigdis, the Japanese never go anywhere, so I'm not surprised they weren't traveling. What about the others?"
"I don't know if this means anything, but out of the cars ticked by the police, Bergur went through the tunnel and back before noon, so he's still in the picture," Matthew said without looking up. "That stockbroker on crutches didn't go anywhere—at least, I couldn't find his name on the list. Actually, I doubt he drives much in his condition. Throstur, the canoeist, left here in his car at around six. The murder was committed at dinnertime, so he seems above suspicion. He came back much later."
"How much later, exactly?" asked Thora. "There is actually a longer route—you go around Hvalfjordur instead of taking the tunnel. He could have driven through the tunnel, then come back around Hvalfjordur, killed Eirikur, then driven back again—the long way—to the other end of the tunnel and turned around to come back through it." She grimaced. "It sounds rather improbable, I suppose. If he went through the tunnel half an hour or an hour before the murder, it's very unlikely that he could get back here, drag Eirikur out to the stables, kill him, and drive the whole circuit to the tunnel and back in such a short time. I don't know the exact time range for his death, but they said it was around dinnertime."
Matthew compared the times at which Throstur left and returned. "He came back two and a half hours after he went through the tunnel."
"It's out of the question, then," Thora said. "It would been pretty much impossible, but I still think we ought to sound him out. He may know something. What else have you got there?"
"The staff seem to have stayed here, by and large; at least, there are only a few cars on the list belonging to them. Of course, there's a chance that I've overlooked something, but as far as I can see, only two employees used the tunnel that day. Jokull drove through the tunnel and back two hours later, so he's still a candidate. The police have ticked another car that Vigdis says belongs to the masseuse. She left around noon and didn't come back. There was one more female employee flagged up by the police, according to Vigdis. Her name's Soldis and she's a cleaner. She left just after the murder. Vigdis said she was taking her car to a garage in Reykjavik on the Sunday and got a lift back. I don't recognize the name, but she could have come back any time, because we don't know who drove her."
"Soldis is just a girl, really. She's very unlikely to be involved," said Thora. "I spoke to her briefly before you arrived and she seemed a decent kid. I don't really think women are in the frame, anyway," she added. "Not if we assume the same person committed both murders. Remember, Birna was raped."
"Quite possibly, but the police have marked the names of women as well as men," Matthew said. "After all, we don't know that in each case the car's driver was its owner. The women might have lent their cars to someone; the murderer could have traveled in a car other than his own. The same goes for the men's cars, of course. We can't take for granted that they were driving just because they're the registered owners."
"No, that's true," said Thora. "So it's not much help, then, is it?"
"Well," replied Matthew, "I browsed through some other names on the list, because you never know what the police are looking for." He thumbed through the pages. "I saw that Borkur and Elin both drove through the tunnel in this direction sometime before the murder. They didn't go back. Then there's that Berta girl; she was on her way to Reykjavik an hour before the murder and didn't come back that day."
"Do you suppose the brother and sister could be the murderers?" Thora asked. She frowned. "I hadn't even thought of that, but it's hard to imagine why they'd want to kill those two."
"You never know," said Matthew. "Oh, yes, I also asked Vigdis about that old guy, Magnus Baldvinsson, and she said he didn't come in his own car—his grandson drove him here—so he couldn't have gone anywhere all day, even if we did think him capable of murder."
"Then there's Bergur's wife," mused Thora. "It just seems so unlikely that all this could happen on their doorstep without them being involved. He's Birna's lover and stumbles across her body; then Eirikur is murdered in their stables. She had ample reason to want Birna dead, even though I can't figure out why she would have murdered Eirikur." Thora looked at Matthew. "Don't you think she must have killed Birna? She was in quite a state in the stables today. Could she have had an accomplice who carried out the rape?"
Matthew shrugged. "Yes, she could, but who? Her friend Jokull, perhaps?"
Thora groaned and turned to the computer. "I'm famished," she said, looking at the clock in the corner of the screen. "Shouldn't we see if we can get something to eat? If we leave it much longer, I'm scared the kitchen will close. The computer will still be here afterward."
They left the office. Matthew left the list behind and Thora took care to lock the door so no one could come in and take it. She was by no means sure that the police would give her another copy if it went missing, since she probably wasn't supposed to have it in the first place. Even if they did, it was unlikely she'd get another copy that had been marked up so conveniently, so they'd be back to square one.
"I hope there's shellfish on the menu," Thora said, as her stomach rumbled, "or maybe meatballs."
"I fancy a thick sandwich and a beer," Matthew said. "Anything but whale meat, and don't feel you have to share your shellfish with me either." He stopped talking when Thora tugged gently at his sleeve.
She nodded in the direction of a slender girl who was walking up to the lobby with an elderly woman.
"That's Soldis," Thora whispered, "the one whose name you didn't recognize on the list." As they approached her, Thora waved. "Hello, Soldis," she said.
Soldis and the other woman stopped, and the girl forced out an approximation of a smile. "Oh, hello."
Thora introduced herself to the elderly woman and shook her hand. "I'm a lawyer," she explained, "working for the owner of this hotel. Soldis has been very helpful with various matters." The woman introduced herself as Lara. Thora smiled at her young companion. "I just wanted to ask you one more question, if you're not in a rush."
"Not on my account," the old woman said. "I only came to pick her up, and we're in no hurry. You go ahead, Soldis."
"Sure. Whatever," said Soldis with impeccable teenage nonchalance. She was chewing a wad of bubble gum that was obviously too large, because she was slurring slightly. "What do you want to know?"
"It's no big deal," Thora replied. "We were looking at a list of cars that drove through the Hvalfjordur Tunnel on Sunday, and it seems that you took yours to Reykjavik to be repaired."
"That's right," replied the girl. She jerked her thumb at the elderly lady beside her. "I don't get it back until Wednesday, so my grandma's picking me up."
"Okay," said Thora. "My question is, who gave you a lift back from Reykjavik? We're trying to work out everyone's movements for that
day."
Judging from her expression, Soldis thought it was an odd question. "I came back with Throstur," she said.
"The canoeist?" said Thora, taken aback.
"Yes, I heard him saying he was popping over to Reykjavik, and I was a bit stuck, so I asked if he'd give me a lift back. He said that was fine."
She blew a large bubble and popped it. Then she sucked the strands of gum back into her mouth with great panache. "Steini let me down, so I was lucky Throstur could help me out."
"Steini?" Thora asked. "Who's Steini?" Surely she didn't mean the young man in the wheelchair.
"My friend," the girl answered. "Sort of. He was going to fetch me, but he blew me off at the last minute. He's a bit weird. He never used to be, but then he had that accident and . . ." She twirled her index finger at her temple.
"You mean the lad in the wheelchair, with all the burns?" Thora asked in astonishment. "He can
drive?"
"Oh, yes," said Soldis. "It's only his right side that's burned, and the other hand is fine. Both his legs are messed up, but he has a device in his car to help him use the pedals and he drives an automatic."
"That must make a big difference for him," Thora said, trying to conceal her surprise. It had never occurred to her that he would be able to drive. She'd assumed he was completely dependent on others because he was confined to a wheelchair. "How do you know him?" she asked.
"We were in the same class since we were six," said Soldis. "There was only one class for each year group, you know, and we were born in the same year. He moved into a house near here after the accident and I started visiting him—at first because I felt sorry for him and then just to chat."
"So he's a good friend of yours?" Thora asked, still struggling to understand. By way of explanation she added, "He seemed very . . . reserved on the two occasions I've met him."
"Yeah, he's cool. He's not good with strangers, though," said Soldis, snapping her gum. "I think he gets uncomfortable when people stare at him. There are really only two of us who hang out with him, me and his cousin Berta."