‘I saw a photograph of your father, this Geiri and others at Kjartan’s office,’ said Thóra. ‘One of them was the police inspector Gudni Leifsson, whom I understand was one of your father’s friends. As I understand it, their friendship was severed at some point.’
Leifur shook his head. ‘No, father and Gudni have been friends their whole life. But Kjartan took offence when he was connected to a case of liquor smuggling. He thought that Gudni should have turned a blind eye to his part in it, in the light of their being friends. Dad wasn’t involved in that, luckily. I don’t understand why Kjartan is still going on about it, since the case was dismissed and he never suffered at all because of it.’
Leifur cleared his throat and fiddled with a button on his shirt. Thóra got the impression that he wasn’t telling her the whole truth, but didn’t think he was lying, exactly. He looked quizzically at her. ‘Is Gudni making life hard for you?’
‘No,’ said Thóra half-heartedly. ‘At least, not yet. Hopefully this investigation will be over before he can.’
Leifur’s jaw clenched and he seemed on the verge of saying something, but at that moment Maria and Bella reappeared, trailing smoke behind them, so he stopped. Much to Thóra’s relief, the main course was leg of lamb. She was sure Leifur hadn’t told her everything. Those who are not used to hiding the truth always give themselves away.
Chapter Twelve
Tuesday 17 July2007
Thóra put down her mobile phone and heaved a sigh. ‘No answer,’ she said regretfully to Bella. ‘That was the last one.’ They were sitting in the hotel lobby, where Thóra had gone online to look for the telephone numbers of women Markus thought had been friends with Alda when she was young. Thóra had called him shortly after she got up to tell him that she was making no progress in the search for anyone who could back up his story about the box. Markus had told her some names, and judging by the list Thóra had scribbled down Alda had been extremely popular. Unfortunately Markus had difficulty remembering surnames, so after a long search Thóra ended up with only five names. Three had answered and they all told the same story. They had been great friends with Alda in the old days but hadn’t kept in touch, since unlike them Alda had moved to the Westfjords after the eruption and hadn’t returned to the Islands with her parents after a year.
According to the women, the majority of the refugees had lived in and around Reykjavik, but for some reason Alda’s family ended up out in the countryside. They didn’t know whether this had happened because of relatives or work, since they never spoke to Alda at the time, although they had all tried to find her. She hadn’t been in the ‘Eruption Class’ that was put together in the Bustadur School for teenagers from the Islands, nor on the trip to Norway the summer after the eruption, to which all of the children from the Westmann Islands between six and sixteen had been invited. One of the women thought this was odd, saying that Alda had often spoken of how much she wanted to go abroad. None of them recalled Alda having entrusted a secret to them right before the eruption, nor had any of them been on board the same boat to the mainland as Alda on the night of the evacuation. So they could not bear witness to any conversation between Alda and Markus, although they all remembered Markus very well, and they all even mentioned how much of a crush he had had on her. The only thing that came out of these conversations was that one of the women professed herself amazed that Alda hadn’t accompanied her parents back to the Islands when they finally returned, instead choosing to move to Reykjavik and attend junior college there under the protective wing of her father’s family. The woman even thought it likely that Alda had never again set foot in the Islands after the eruption.
Thóra switched off her phone and put it into her handbag. ‘If it’s true that Alda never came back here, that’s a pretty good indication that something happened,’ she said.
‘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 difficul
t 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.‘
Thóra doubted that was the reason. It seemed more likely that whatever had led Alda to ask Markus to hide the severed head had made it impossible for her to imagine returning to the area. ‘This thing she wanted to discuss with you, did she say what it was about?’ she asked.
Jóhanna shook her head. ‘She was being a bit weird about it. She said she should’ve sat down with me a long time ago to get it off her chest.’ She stopped, seeming on the verge of tears. ‘That’s how I know she didn’t kill herself; she wouldn’t have done it before we had a chance to talk. She was so insistent that we meet face to face, she couldn’t tell me on the phone.’
‘When did you hear from her last?’ asked Thóra.
‘The day before she died she phoned to tell me that she’d bought her ticket, and she seemed happier than she’d been in the previous phone call.’ Jóhanna rubbed at her right eye. ‘It was as if she’d received good news or had a load taken off her shoulders. I don’t know what had happened.’
Thóra suspected that what had cheered Alda up was the knowledge that Markus was going to remove the head from the basement. She must have been nervous while the status of the excavation was still unclear, which would explain her mental state in those conversations with her sister. When it looked as if everything was going to work out she had felt happy again, but this lasted only a short time before everything went as badly as it possibly could. ‘Hopefully it will all become clear,’ she soothed.
Ashes to Dust Page 12
