‘No problem,’ said Thóra in surprise. ‘Did you see anything in it?’
Bella shook her head. ‘No, not yet,’ she said. ‘Actually you forgot to put in about Adolf and the rape.’ She turned the list towards Thóra. ‘I stuck it in there,’ she said, pointing at an illegible scribble in the margin.
‘I definitely overlooked a few other things,’ said Thóra. ‘If you remember anything else you can certainly add it. It’s not sacred.’
‘I’m also wondering if I should check on this tattoo for you,’ said Bella, pointing at the list. ‘Love Sex,’ she muttered. ‘That’s so lame.’
A foreign couple at the next table, who had been immersed in a guidebook, finally understood two words of the women’s conversation and smiled knowingly at each other.
Thóra thought tattoos were pretty dumb at the best of times, so Love Sex was no worse than anything else as far as she was concerned. ‘What are you thinking of doing?’ she asked. ‘Do you know much about tattoos?’
‘I’ve got three,’ replied Bella, and she started to fiddle with the collar of her sweater. She pulled it down and Thóra caught a glimpse of a unicorn on the upper slope of the girl’s hefty breast. ‘One,’ she said, arching in her seat to show Thóra her belly. ‘Two…’ The foreign couple were now staring at them.
‘It’s okay, I believe you,’ said Thóra uncomfortably. ‘But what are you going to do with this tattoo?’
Bella tidied her clothing and adjusted herself in her seat. ‘I’m going to see whether anyone recognizes it. There aren’t many tattoo shops in Reykjavik, so it won’t take long. It’s an unusual tattoo, I think,’ she said. ‘At least, I’ve never seen it in any albums.’
‘Albums?’ repeated Thóra, blankly.
‘Tattoo parlours have books or folders with drawings of the tattoos that they offer,’ said Bella, casually. ‘When I got mine done I had a look at the selection, but I don’t remember one saying Love Sex.’
The young couple at the next table giggled. ‘Definitely check on it if you feel like it,’ said Thóra, as she tried to ignore them. ‘I doubt it will make any difference, but you never know.’ She looked at her watch and stood up. ‘We should get going,’ she said, grabbing her bag from where it hung on the back of her chair. ‘Now let’s see whether we can’t score a hit with Gudni.’
Bella snorted. ‘Good luck with that,’ she said, apparently far from optimistic.
‘So you thought you’d left your wallet in the basement when you went down there with Markus?’ asked Gudni, clearly not believing a word of what Thóra was saying. He leaned back and glowered at her. He had agreed to meet them at the police station when Thóra called him just after eight in the morning, and she had heard in his voice that she’d woken him up.
‘Yes,’ said Thóra peevishly. ‘Does it matter?’ She pointed at the salmon priest on Gudni’s desk. Next to it lay the knife that had been in the same box. ‘Here you have the possible murder weapons in an unsolved case with four corpses, so I think you should be thanking me for stepping in, rather than questioning my story.’
‘I just think it’s best that we have everything clear,’ said Gudni calmly. ‘You and this… lady…’ he pointed at Bella.
‘Lady?’ snarled Bella. Thóra remembered how strange she’d felt the first time someone had called her a lady rather than a girl or young woman, but this was neither the time nor the place to share that experience with her secretary.
Gudni raised an eyebrow at Bella, but continued. ‘You travel all the way to the Islands, then instead of coming to me or the archaeologists to check if your lost wallet might be in the basement, you wait until the evening then go to the house yourself?’
‘I’m sorry,’ interrupted Thóra. ‘But we didn’t see any signs saying that it was still a closed crime scene, so we wanted to save you the trouble and just go down there ourselves. I hope you’re not saying the house is still under your jurisdiction?’
‘No, actually it isn’t,’ replied Gudni. ‘We finished up yesterday, but that doesn’t alter the fact that there’s a large notice at the end of the access road stating clearly that people walking through have to remain outside the boundary tape.’
‘Oh, is there?’ said Thóra, smiling innocently at him. ‘We completely missed that.’ She pointed again at the objects on the table. ‘In any case, I have handed over evidence from a serious murder case, but all that seems to matter to you is our little mix-up.’ Thóra wasn’t entirely sure if the warning sign was legally enforceable, but suspected not. ‘I would like to know whether you consider this a significant discovery or not, and I would also like the mallet and the knife to be taken into consideration if you are thinking of requesting an extension of Markus’s custody period. The weapons are not his, and I’m certain that a forensic examination will show he’s never touched them.’ Thóra had contacted Markus and told him about the weapons before going to the police station. Stunned, he had denied ever having laid a finger on them, let alone hidden them in the storeroom.
‘You would have to speak to my colleagues in Reykjavik about his detention. They handle these matters,’ replied Gudni, with sarcastic emphasis on the word Reykjavik. ‘I don’t know what their plans are for Markus.’
Thóra had hoped Gudni might have been kept abreast of developments in the case and would therefore be able to tell her — or at least give her a hint about - what the police were planning for tomorrow, when Markus’s custody period expired. She tried to act unconcerned. Gudni annoyed her just as much every time she met him, and she seemed to irritate him, so she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of witnessing her disappointment. She smiled. ‘But as far as these weapons are concerned…’ she said.
Gudni laughed dryly. ‘Weapons?’ he said. ‘These are work tools.’
She paused a moment before continuing, ‘It may surprise you to learn that tools have been used before for acts of violence. I can assure you such a thing is not unheard of.’
Gudni stared at her, poker-faced. He leaned forward and glanced at the tools on the desk. ‘I don’t know how you can be so sure these are linked to the bodies.’
‘It’s not natural to keep dangerous tools stored among baby clothes, especially not a christening gown,’ she replied. ‘What’s more, I suspect there’s blood on both of them. I’m fairly certain these items were put there in an attempt to conceal evidence.’
‘That would be a stroke of genius,’ said Gudni, smiling mirthlessly. ‘Hiding the murder weapons in a box but putting the bodies on display in the middle of the room.’ He frowned and shook his head. ‘Do you think the murderer was a raving idiot?’
Thóra turned bright red, but kept her emotions in check. ‘Now is not the time to conjure up theories about exactly how it happened. First it must be determined whether this is blood, and if so, whether it’s from those men. At the same time, it would no doubt be wise to check these items for fingerprints.’
‘You probably haven’t had much call to use tools like these,’ said Gudni patronizingly, as if no one could call himself a real man unless he went around with a mallet in one hand and a knife in the other. ‘You do realize there is a natural explanation for why there might be blood on these tools?’
‘That may be, but the amount makes me doubt it came from a fisherman knocking out fish - that wouldn’t leave so much blood behind on the priest. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Gudni narrowed his eyes and his lips thinned. ‘What are you hoping to get out of this?’ he asked, leaning forward on his elbows.
Thóra knew he wasn’t talking about her fee. ‘I thought we were hoping for the same thing,’ she replied. ‘To find the murderer. The real murderer.’
Gudni chose not to reply. He continued to stare into Thóra’s eyes, but then he had to blink. He said, ‘Oh, we’ll find him. Without your help.’
‘Oh, you think so?’ muttered Thóra, but decided not to squabble with him. She changed the subject. ‘What can you tell me about an old case involving smuggled spirits, one t
hat came up here just before the eruption?’
Gudni seemed startled by the unexpected new topic. ‘What does that have to do with this case?’ he asked. Thóra said nothing. ‘I think you’re really clutching at straws if you want to drag that old incident into this.’ He leaned back and clasped his hands over his chest. ‘Are you withholding information from us?’
‘No, not at all. I’ve just heard it mentioned twice in my conversations with locals and I wanted to find out more about it, even if only to rule out any links to the current case.’
‘I see,’ he said. ‘It’s hardly a secret, I just thought most people would have forgotten that case. It surprises me that anyone brought it up after all these years.’ He unclenched his fingers and started cracking his knuckles, one after another. ‘It wouldn’t be thought remarkable today, in comparison with all the big drug cases. It became evident that an unusual quantity of grain alcohol was in circulation on the Islands, and all the signs pointed at two residents. The investigation hadn’t yet concluded when the eruption occurred, but it was a long way along. Then it was dropped in light of the circumstances.’
‘Who were the men involved?’ asked Thóra. ‘I know about Kjartan at the harbour-master’s office, but who was the other man?’
Gudni cracked the knuckle of his thumb, unusually loudly. ‘You don’t know him.’
Thóra named the one man who came to mind apart from Paddi the Hook, who seemed unlikely to be the culprit. ‘Was it Dadi Horseshoe?’
Gudni couldn’t hide his surprise. Thóra had obviously guessed correctly. ‘I’m not going to speak to you about anyone but your client,’ he answered. ‘However, I can tell you that neither of these men was a suspect for long, because a third man turned himself in and confessed everything the morning before the eruption. He got lucky, because as I just said, the investigation didn’t go any further.’
Thóra knitted her brow. Who could it be? ‘Was it Magnus?’ she asked, and again saw that she had guessed correctly.
‘Why don’t you ask him about it?’ suggested Gudni sarcastically. ‘If there’s nothing more you want to enquire about, it’s just a question of telling me whether you found anything else down in the basement. I’m passing this information on to Reykjavik, so now’s your chance.’
‘No,’ replied Thóra curtly. ‘That’s all.’ She smirked at Gudni as she thought about what she and Bella had managed to dig up. Several old poetry books bound in leather, an old-fashioned copper compass and gold coins that didn’t appear to come from any particular country. Before she handed these things over, she wanted to check whether they could conjure something useful out of Magnus. The evidence was starting to point ominously towards the old fishing tycoon.
‘Adolf, the only thing that could justify your continuing existence on the planet would be if you started breathing carbon dioxide and exhaling oxygen.’ The woman’s anger was written all over her face, although her sadness was even clearer. ‘You know my opinion of you and that’s not going to change, so we shouldn’t waste time arguing.’
Adolf looked at the mother of his child, saying nothing. He wanted to make some retort, something that would sting her, but couldn’t think of anything clever. He could tell her she looked knackered and ask if she’d looked in the mirror today, but that was too feeble. Sometimes it was best to keep quiet and settle for a dirty look, which he was rather good at. He didn’t even need to try; the expression crept over his face automatically as soon as she sat down and started talking. He shouldn’t have opened the door when he saw who it was. He didn’t own a car, so she could have concluded that he wasn’t at home and left. Adolf couldn’t bear her, or the guilt she always tried to make him feel on the rare occasions they talked. It wasn’t his damn fault she’d got pregnant. If he’d had any inkling that would happen after their long-ago one- night stand, he would have stayed home that night. He only vaguely remembered the night they had made Tinna, that’s how unexciting the sex had been. He’d had better sex with women who were barely conscious.
‘Are you even listening to me?’ she said, shooting him a dirty look of her own. ‘I want you to talk to Tinna’s psychiatrist. He wants to meet you, but you’re not returning his calls. You wouldn’t be doing this for me, if that’s what’s stopping you.’
‘What the hell am I meant to say to him? If Tinna’s in some kind of trouble, it’s your fault. You raised her.’ Adolf shrugged to show how little this affected him. ‘And what genius came up with the idea of sending her to a shrink? There’s nothing wrong with her that a good meal wouldn’t fix. You’d be better off giving her something to eat, so maybe you should rethink your cooking. It’s hardly surprising she doesn’t want to eat, because you can’t cook for shit.’ He actually had no idea what kind of cook she was.
‘I always knew you weren’t that bright, but I hadn’t realized you were retarded,’ said the woman, her face flushed. She had clenched her hands into fists. ‘Do you know anything about this disease? Have you taken the time to go online and read about what’s killing your daughter?’
‘It’s all rubbish,’ said Adolf, feeling his voice deepen to a rumble as it always did when he was very angry. ‘Everyone knows the system wants to make out kids have all got something wrong with them. They’re diagnosed with attention deficit disorder, hyperactive disorder, God knows what else, just so the therapists can rake it in. Tinna is skinny because she doesn’t eat enough. Maybe you let her watch too much TV and read about too many models in magazines.’
She sighed. ‘Will you talk to this man, for your daughter, or not?’ She stood up from her armchair and looked around. The look on her face now beat Adolf’s dirty look hands down. ‘I seriously doubt any good will come of it, so I don’t give a shit what you do. At least I can tell the doctor with a clean conscience that I told you to call him.’
‘What does he want me to say?’ said Adolf, suddenly disappointed that she was leaving. It had been a long time since he’d had a visitor, though he hadn’t given it much thought.
His friends had made themselves scarcer and scarcer as his trial date drew closer. They didn’t want to be seen being friends with a rapist. Adolf didn’t like this, but he did understand. He would do exactly the same in their shoes. ‘Do you want some coffee? I’ve got coffee. If you want.’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘No, no thanks.’ She adjusted her handbag on her shoulder and shifted the weight of her slender body onto one foot. ‘Will you talk to him?’ she repeated.
Adolf shrugged again and looked away from her to the sofa in front of him. ‘If I knew what I was supposed to say, of course I would do it. But I still don’t understand what good it would do.’
‘I don’t know what he wants to talk to you about,’ she said, and he could hear exhaustion in her voice. ‘If you’re worried he’ll start psychoanalyzing you, you can relax. As far as I know he’s simply trying to get a more complete picture of what’s going on.’
‘A complete picture?’ asked Adolf, who was having trouble understanding this. Suddenly he wanted to please her and say yes, say he would call the doctor. Still, he didn’t want to go. He didn’t understand the purpose of this and he didn’t like psychiatrists, psychologists, any of that lot. Specialists always confused him and he felt uncomfortable around them.
She looked at him expectantly, obviously keen to get going. Adolf suddenly saw through her: she wanted him to say no, and not go. Then she could continue to be the martyr, the poor single mother with the sick daughter who received no assistance or understanding from the child’s dastardly father. She cleared her throat nervously as she realized he’d figured her out. Or maybe it was just tiredness and resignation he saw in her eyes. ‘A complete picture of Tinna’s life, who she was before this disease took over,’ she said. ‘If it helps, I’ve met this man more than once and he’s very decent, so it’s no hardship at all talking to him. They think Tinna’s illness is worse than they had previously realised - that underlying it is a much more serious mental condition.’ She
looked at Adolf for a moment before zipping up her plain, inexpensive jacket. ‘This doctor can answer your questions about her eating disorder and the other illness, if you have any. It’s helped me a lot.’
Adolf nodded, pondering his response. He didn’t believe in this eating disorder, nor this new illness for that matter. He looked at the mother of his child: her face was so drawn and haggard that she looked much older than she was, but no one said she was ill. Tinna had simply inherited her mother’s build, and besides she was obviously impressionable. There were often articles in the paper about how much influence skinny models and actresses had on girls, and Tinna had just fallen under the spell of that body image. When she grew up she would get over it and put on a bit of weight. ‘I don’t have any questions about this disease,’ he said. He hadn’t planned to say it so sarcastically, but it came out like that.
‘She’s very ill,’ said the woman dejectedly. ‘And you’re a fool, Adolf; a total fool, if you can’t see it.’
He was furious. She was always like this. Nothing was ever good enough for her; all he ever got from her was disapproval and moral lectures. He was a fool, and six was an angel in human form. ‘You must be a fool yourself, leaving my daughter in the hands of the system for no reason. You’re the fool, not me.’
She looked at him for a few long seconds. For a moment Adolf thought she might cry, but instead she shook her head in a kind of surrender and waved her hand half-heartedly. ‘I’m going.’ She turned and walked away slowly, without looking back.
Adolf stood up and followed her. He had got the last word, but it still felt like she’d won. It was unbearable: he needed every tiny victory he could get before the trial if he wanted to get through it in one piece. ‘So, you admit you’re the stupid one?’ he said as she reached the door. He would have liked her to be in more of a rush, and felt again as if she were asserting her superiority through her relaxed pace.
Ashes to Dust Page 32
