Ashes to Dust

by Yrsa Sigurdardottir

  Thóra sat and thought for a minute. ‘Has he said anything about the eruption?’ she asked. Maria was right, the testimony of such a sick man could not be taken seriously unless it could be confirmed by some other means. There may have been no sacrifice, or if there had been, maybe it hadn’t been Alda who was involved, meaning the incident had no relation to this case.

  ‘Of course he has,’ sighed Maria. ‘Everyone who wasn’t an infant at the time of the disaster has plenty to say about it. For a while I feared that I would never be accepted into the community because I hadn’t ever breathed in a decent amount of ash.’ She looked at Thóra sadly. ‘That fear turned out not to be unfounded. I’ve never properly adapted to the community here, though I don’t think it’s entirely because of the eruption.’

  Thóra sympathized with the woman and her isolation. ‘What has he said about the eruption?’

  ‘He’s mentioned it now and again. Asked sometimes whether 1 heard a booming noise, as if he were reliving that night. I can almost recite the whole story, he’s told me so often. He was one of the first to become aware of the eruption, since he was awake. I understand it was late on a Monday night—’

  Thóra cut her off. ‘I’m not looking for information about what time the eruption began, so much as anything he may have told you about the rescue operation.’ Thóra could see from the woman’s face that she didn’t really understand, so she continued, ‘The bodies showed signs of having been outside after the eruption started, later than the first night. So I wondered whether someone else could have brought the bodies to the basement without Magnus knowing. Maybe someone who helped him clear out the house, and therefore knew when it was safe to bring them in.’

  ‘I see,’ said Maria. ‘He mostly talked about how he evacuated residents to the mainland on his ship. I don’t remember how long he said he’d been awake at one point, but he talked a lot about it.’ She smiled. ‘Fifty, sixty hours, something like that. He was very proud of it. But that may have been a slight exaggeration on his part.’ She patted her hair before continuing. ‘He didn’t say much about anything that happened while he was trying to salvage the household; he said he’d got out most of what mattered but was still worried about things that he’d forgotten to take: old books he’d inherited from his father, a compass, some coins and other things that it’s hard to imagine him missing. He could grumble to himself about this for hours at a time, but those things had been in a storeroom, and so they were lost.’

  ‘Was the storeroom in the basement?’ asked Thóra. If Magnus never went down to the basement, someone could have put the bodies there at any point after the eruption. ‘One would have expected him to have taken these things from there, since they were dear to him.’

  Maria shrugged. ‘I have no idea where the storeroom is,’ she said. ‘It could be in the basement, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Maggi still might have gone down there, even if he didn’t manage to find everything. It would be impossible for me to remember what was in our storeroom if I had to remove the things I cared about most. None of the objects he mentioned was particularly large, so he could easily have gone down there without finding them.’

  ‘But he’s never spoken about the basement anxiously, or in any way other than his usual tone?’ asked Thóra.

  Maria snapped her fingers. ‘Yes, now I remember,’ she said triumphantly. ‘He did mention the basement in connection with the eruption, but not in the way you described. It was before he got ill so it wasn’t that bizarre, but if it’s true then he certainly went down there.’ Maria drummed her high heels on the floor as she thought back. ‘Let’s see… he said he was glad he hadn’t taken all the family’s possessions down into the basement as he’d first planned, and had even started to do. He was smiling when he said it, because he was laughing at himself for having thought the basement would be safe. So he did go down there - is that bad?’

  ‘No, not really,’ said Thóra, who didn’t know whether this meant anything. So Magnus had gone down but probably only briefly, as he had missed things he wanted to salvage. Was that because he knew about the bodies and couldn’t bear to stay there very long, or because he thought there was nothing of interest down there? ‘Do you think it would make him happy to get his hands on those items he was looking for?’ asked Thóra.

  ‘Yes, if it could happen soon,’ replied Maria. ‘And if we managed to give them to him when he was in a good mood.’ Her eyes clouded and she let her hands fall into her lap. ‘Otherwise, I don’t know.’

  Thóra said nothing, thinking things over. The basement of the house hadn’t been emptied yet. If she and Bella went there and found these items, it was entirely possible they would help clear the old man’s head when he held them in his hands. Since he seemed to connect them to the eruption, there was a faint chance he would tell Thóra something useful as a result. If they got on the case that evening, they could drop by again in the morning, before catching the boat home. Thóra adjusted her little notebook on her knees and readied her pen. ‘What was it again that he was looking for?’ She wrote the things down and stood up to leave.

  ‘I have some papers for you, from Leifur,’ said Maria as they left the room. ‘I’m to tell you that he got them from the archaeologist.’ She grabbed a large pile of documents and handed them to Thóra. ‘I’m also supposed to tell you that no one from the excavation team was aware of Alda having contacted them to try to prevent the house from being dug up.’ Thóra took the stack and saw that it was the log of everything found in the houses. It would take a while to go through it.

  When Thóra left Maria she realized that she hadn’t learned much of interest except that Magnus had sailed overnight to the mainland with refugees, returned immediately the next day and started to salvage what he could. First he had focused on his own house. In doing so he had had the help of several neighbours, who he helped in return, but unfortunately Maria hadn’t known whether this included Dadi from next door. Then Magnus had joined a group of men who went all over Heimaey performing salvage operations, but Maria didn’t know any of their names. After a month or so Magnus had started fishing again, by which time his house was completely buried. Over the following months he’d worked as hard as he could to keep his ship.

  Thóra’s phone rang, and she answered eagerly when she saw the number of the estate agent Markus said he’d spoken to on his way east. She had talked to him briefly before she’d visited Maria, but he’d been busy and had promised to ring as soon as his work day was finished, which was usually early on Saturdays. That was clearly not the case today, since it was nearly six o’clock. Thóra got straight to the point after saying hello.

  ‘Okay,’ said the youngish voice at the other end of the phone, when she had finished explaining what she needed to know. ‘I understand.’

  What did he understand? Icelandic? Thóra tried not to let her irritation show, although she had spent longer than was healthy on the phone today. ‘So, did you have this phone conversation with Markus?’ she asked. ‘It matters a great deal that you tell the truth, and that you tell the story correctly. You won’t do Markus any favours by making something up, if he’s remembered this wrong. You also need to let me know what phone you called him from, so the police can verify it.’

  ‘Ummm,’ muttered the man. ‘Yes, I called him. Wait a minute,’ he said, and Thóra heard a rustling of papers. ‘It’s here somewhere,’ came the voice over the line, and then: ‘Ah. Here it is.’

  ‘Here what is?’ asked Thóra.

  ‘I was looking for the offer we discussed. It expired at eight o’clock on the eighth of July, so that fits perfectly. I called him when it became clear that the sellers wouldn’t accept it. That’s not strange, because it was quite low. Markus didn’t particularly like the apartment, although I understand that his boy was excited about it.’

  ‘So you called him,’ said Thóra, trying to direct the man back to what mattered. ‘You called him, on his mobile?’

  ‘Yes,’ said th
e agent. ‘That’s the only number I have for him, I think.’

  ‘And you can confirm that he was the one you spoke to?’ she persevered.

  ‘Not someone else using his phone?’

  ‘Yes, I spoke to him. Absolutely,’ said the man resolutely. ‘We talked a bit about what would happen next, but he was driving, so he couldn’t talk for very long.’

  Thóra looked up at the sky, thrilled. He could not only confirm that Markus had had his phone, but also that he had been driving. ‘And what number did you call from?’ she asked.

  ‘My mobile,’ the agent replied. ‘It was after work and I had come home. I have an unlisted number so it wouldn’t have shown up on Markus’s screen, if that’s what you’re asking.’

  ‘That’s great,’ said Thóra. She explained that he would have to confirm this with the police, and asked him to keep the offer paperwork somewhere safe, in case there was any need for it.

  ‘Do you know if Markus is still thinking of buying an apartment?’ asked the young man, sounding anxious. ‘We weren’t able to close a deal that evening. I actually have a lot of new property for sale, damn good places, actually. He wouldn’t want to miss this opportunity. I know things are hard for him at the moment and I’ll try to keep things open for him, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold off other buyers.’

  Thóra smiled to herself. ‘I’m pretty sure Markus has other things on his mind at the moment, but I expect he’ll be thinking about it again soon. You can try to reach him by phone after the weekend. Hopefully all this will be over by then.’

  After saying goodbye she called Stefán, rather pleased with herself. The only dilemma she had was what to tell him about first: the pool of blood, or her conversation with the estate agent.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Saturday 21 July2007

  The excavation site was completely silent, except for the creaking beneath Thóra and Bella’s shoes as they walked through the slag on the pathway. It was as if they were travelling through a deep valley: nothing could be seen of the world around them apart from a clear sky and the faint traces of a street that had disappeared from the surface of the earth a third of a century ago. Thóra couldn’t block out the uncomfortable feeling that they were being watched through the broken windows of the empty houses as they walked by. Of course she knew that there was not a living soul here apart from herself and Bella; nevertheless she was plagued by unease. She got goosebumps when a light breeze stirred a loose paper plate lying in front of a little house. The house looked as if it had once been yellow, but the catastrophe that had overwhelmed it had given it a dull green appearance. This decrepit shack looked so sad and neglected that Thóra had to stop for a moment and stare at it. It was easy to imagine a dust-covered middle-aged woman standing at the window in her dressing-gown, waiting for life to pick up where it had left off in January 1973. Thóra shook off the image. She wasn’t used to letting her imagination lead her astray - it must be the guilt she was feeling over their business in the area. At best, it was immoral. The oppressive silence also played a part. Thóra was so unused to it. In the quiet neighbourhood where she lived one could always hear the sound of traffic - even at night an indistinct hum from cars driving down the surrounding streets managed to reach her ears. Here, there was no sound, although the town was just below them and people would barely have gone to bed. Ash and slag clearly swallowed all the noise, even the squeaking of their shoes. It was like watching television with the sound muted. Thóra and Bella said nothing on the way to Markus’s childhood home. Their conversation had petered out around the time they reached this street and were met by its silence. Thóra even grabbed Bella’s shoulder and pointed when they stopped in front of Markus’s house, instead of telling her they had reached their destination. She realized how ridiculous this was and tried to make up for it by breaking the silence: ‘It’s this one,’ she whispered, even though whispering had not been her intention.

  Bella stared silently at the house. ‘Come on,’ said Thóra, slightly louder now. She clambered over the tape, and Bella followed. ‘This’ll be no problem,’ said Thóra, more to persuade herself than her secretary. What if the archaeologists turned up, or had set up security cameras to track any unwelcome visitors? No matter how she tried, Thóra could not think up any excuse for their presence here. They did have a reason for doing this, but wisdom told Thóra that it was a dubious one. The old man would probably stare at the stuff they brought back with the same dull gaze he turned on everything else put in front of him. If they even managed to find what they were looking for.

  They came to the door and stood there for a few moments without saying anything, checking to make sure their torches were working just as well as when they had set off a quarter of an hour before.

  Bella turned her light on and off for the third time. ‘Are you sure it’s safe?’ she asked, looking at the door. The oak was deeply scarred and appeared to have bent under weight or heat. Large, slender windows on both sides of the doorway were boarded with dented sheets of corrugated iron, remainders of Magnus’s attempts to save his family’s home. ‘I don’t like this, and I don’t understand why I have to go in. I’ll just keep watch, like last time. The house is collapsing.’ Bella’s voice was plaintive and she pushed loosely at an iron sheet to back up her fears. As she had no doubt intended, the sheet fell with a dull crash, and she had to step aside to avoid it hitting her. ‘You see,’ she said triumphantly.

  ‘Don’t be an idiot,’ said Thóra. ‘The sheet was put up in an emergency to prevent ash from coming into the house. The house itself is secure, and it isn’t going anywhere.’ Thóra didn’t want to go in again, not at all, and wanted Bella there as back-up. She didn’t feel comfortable going down into the dark basement alone; if she had someone with her to talk to she could pretend everything was fine. ‘Let’s go, it’ll be fun once we’re in.’ Thóra pushed the door with her foot, and it opened with a faint creak. Dust and soot whirled in the beam from her torch.

  ‘It must be really dangerous to breathe in this dust,’ said Bella.

  ‘Since when did you start worrying about that?’ asked Thóra. ‘If you wait outside you’ll have several cigarettes, so it’ll probably be a nice rest for your lungs in here.’ She took a few steps into the house, then turned and looked at Bella through the murky air. It was as if she’d jumped inside an old-fashioned coal stove and shut the door. ‘Come on,’ she said, beckoning.

  The sturdy secretary frowned, but finally let herself be persuaded, turning on her torch and walking in to join Thóra. She put her free hand over her mouth and nose and mumbled something indecipherable into her palm, shooting Thóra a look that displayed neither warmth nor admiration. Thóra tried to smile appeasingly, which didn’t really work as she didn’t want to open her mouth. She walked carefully in the direction of the basement door, happy to hear Bella following close on her heels. The only light came from their torches, since all the windows were still boarded up tightly. They fumbled their way along the filthy floor, though there wasn’t really anything they could trip over. It appeared that whatever loose items had remained in the house when the police took it over had been pushed to the edges of the room. Thóra tried not to dwell on why they had needed to clear space, but it was obvious. They had to get the three bodies out somehow. She was also trying to forget about the hard hat the archaeologist had insisted she put on the first time she’d come here. She quickened her step.

  ‘Is this the basement door?’ asked Bella when Thóra stopped. ‘Isn’t it better if I wait here?’ She looked around and coughed. The air hadn’t got any cleaner and Thóra knew it would get even worse as they went deeper down, but didn’t dare tell Bella in case that was the last straw that sent her straight for the exit. ‘Then I’d be ready if anything needed to be done up here. For example, I could get help if the floor were to crash down into the basement.’

  ‘Enough of that talk,’ said Thóra, refraining from saying that the floor was more likely to c
ollapse with Bella standing on it. ‘You’re coming with me.’ She opened the door and shone her torch down the stairs. ‘This won’t take us any time at all.’ She stepped onto the landing and set off cautiously down the wooden steps. When she waved the torch around the basement she could see that the police had removed more than just the bodies. Everything from the shelves and the floor was gone. Thóra sighed.

  ‘What?’ asked Bella, who had thankfully followed Thóra down. ‘Is something wrong?’ Bella followed Thóra’s example and shone her light around the dark cellar.

  ‘They’ve taken everything,’ said Thóra. ‘Damn.’

  ‘Wasn’t that to be expected?’ said Bella. ‘What if the body that belonged to the head was cut up into little pieces and scattered everywhere? The police would want to make sure they had all the evidence.’