My Soul to Take: A Novel of Iceland

by Yrsa Sigurdardottir

  "May I inquire why the telephone is needed?" she asked levelly.

  "We think the phone may contain information that could be of use to us," Thorolfur answered, equally impassive.

  "Various kinds of information are stored on mobile phones," Thora said, stalling as she tried to recall the model that Jonas owned. Some information could be obtained from the telephone company, so they were hardly trying to establish whom Jonas had called. They must have been after his calendar or photographs, if such features were included. What made the warrant unusual was that the police were interested only in the telephone. They were not insisting on a regular search of premises, unless such a request had been turned down. "Actually, it says here that you may take the phone, but there's no mention of the SIM card. Can he keep that?" Thora asked, vainly hoping that whatever they wanted was stored on the card and not in the phone itself.

  Thorolfur snatched the warrant out of Thora's hands. "It says mobile telephone number"—he scanned the page and when he had found it he turned it around proudly for Thora to see, stabbing at the number with his finger—"667 6767. See, that's Jonas's number. It even states that he is the registered user. If you give me the phone without the card, you're not handing over what the warrant requires." Smugly, he leaned back in his seat and addressed Jonas. "You have to hand the phone over to me."

  Thora looked at Jonas. "Are you opposed to giving them the phone?"

  Jonas bristled indignantly. "Of course I am! What am I supposed to do without a phone? Admittedly, the reception out here isn't up to much, but I don't care. It's my phone."

  "I advise you to advise your client to hand over what the warrant demands. Doing otherwise would be extremely unwise." Thorolfur could not conceal his irritation at the delay.

  "I didn't kill Birna!" Jonas slammed his fist down on the desk. "How could you think I did?"

  "No one's claiming that. Least of all me," Thorolfur replied, more calmly than before. "However, your behavior does raise certain questions."

  "What are you insinuating?" Jonas bellowed. He hit the desk again, this time so hard that a pen stand and other loose objects shook on its surface. "I had nothing to do with this murder, and I insist on taking a lie-detector test to prove it, but you shan't have my phone."

  Thora leaned over to Jonas and gently gripped his hand. "Jonas, lie detectors aren't used in Iceland. They're inadmissible as evidence in this country. I advise you to hand over the telephone. Especially if you haven't done anything wrong."

  "That's out of the question," said Jonas firmly. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair as if to emphasize his determination. Then he inclined forward and whispered into Thora's ear, "They mustn't take the phone under any circumstances. Believe me, that would be a seriously bad idea." He leaned back away from her and smiled at the police officer.

  "Okay, I understand. Give me your phone." She stared him in the eye. "Trust me."

  Jonas looked at her suspiciously. "No. You'll give it to the police."

  "Jonas. Trust me, I said." Thora held out her open hand.

  Jonas just stared dubiously at her. After a moment's thought he took his mobile out of the pocket of the jacket hung over his chair. He handed the phone to Thora, but did not let go. "I mean it; you mustn't let him have the phone."

  Thora nodded. "I know. You can let go." She heaved a sigh when he finally released his grip. She was relieved to see that it was not a camera phone.

  "Please hand the phone over to me," Thorolfur said, holding out the sheet of paper to affirm his right.

  "One moment," Thora said, and put her own mobile on the table. She opened the back and removed the SIM card. Then she did the same to Jonas's mobile and swapped the cards. "Here you are. One mobile phone, number 667 6767, registered user Jonas Juliusson." She handed her mobile to the police officer. "Completely in accordance with the warrant, if I have not misunderstood the wording." She smiled at Thorolfur.

  Brilliant, Brilliant, Jonas was enthusing as they burst into Thora's room. They had gone straight there with the mobile phone, after Thorolfur had made a call to confirm that Jonas was considered to have fulfilled the conditions of the warrant. However, a new and more precisely worded warrant was pending, so Thora didn't have long to find out what it was that Jonas didn't want the police to see.

  "Matthew—Jonas. Jonas—Matthew." A brief introduction would have to do, since Jonas was short of time. Matthew simply nodded. Although clearly startled by the intrusion, he asked no questions. She turned to Jonas. "Why on earth didn't you just let the man have the phone?"

  "There are numbers in it that I definitely don't want him to see. And texts too." Jonas lowered his voice. "I smoke a hash pipe every now and again. There are two guys I score from and their numbers are on my phone. There are probably texts that I've sent when they don't answer their phones. If you read them, the exact nature of our business is pretty obvious."

  Thora nodded, astonished at Jonas's stupidity, although actually she thought this was an excellent indication of his innocence in Birna's murder. Judging from the way he bought drugs, he would have left a note on the body with his name on it.

  She handed him the phone. "I can't advise you to do anything illegal, but here's the phone. I should remind you that time is running out. My PIN number is 4036."

  Jonas switched on the mobile and entered the PIN. He went straight into his address book and erased two names, which Thora studiously avoided seeing. Then he went to the message menu and erased several that he had received. As he scrolled through the sent messages, he suddenly said, "What?" and held the mobile away to focus better on the screen. "What the fuck is this?"

  Thora leaned over and grabbed for the phone. "What? What have you found?"

  Jonas let her take it. "That's not right." Something had clearly shocked him deeply.

  Thora read the header of the top message, which was presumably the most recent. "Meet me @ cave . . ." This filled the screen line, so she opened the message. She groaned when she read it in its entirety. "Meet me @ cave @ 9 2nite need 2 discuss ur idea Jonas." The message had been sent the previous Thursday at twenty-five past seven, the evening before the body was found.

  "Please tell me that's not Birna's number," Thora said anxiously, handing the phone back to Jonas.

  He looked at the mobile, then up at Thora, and slowly nodded his head.

  Chapter 10

  “Everything all right?” Matthew asked in English, looking from Thora to Jonas, who was still gawking at the mobile phone.

  Thora and Jonas had taken a while to regain their powers of speech. Although Matthew had understood almost nothing of what passed between them, he could tell something was amiss.

  Jonas, still standing open-mouthed and speechless, turned to him. "Who is this, anyway?" he asked, clearly relieved to have something else to think about.

  "This is Matthew, my friend from Germany," Thora replied. "He was a detective, but now he handles security for a bank. I met him on another case. You can trust him—this won't go any further."

  "If you say so," Jonas retorted, looking unconvinced. "I can't understand this at all. I didn't send that text message, I swear."

  Thora turned the phone over in her hands thoughtfully. "Someone did, Jonas, and you're undeniably the most likely candidate." She turned to Matthew and quickly translated. Jonas waited in fretful silence. When Thora had finished, he resumed.

  "How many times do I have to tell you? I did not send that message. End of story." He'd switched to English, clearly hoping to enlist Matthew's support.

  "Did you let the phone out of your sight that evening?" Matthew asked. "If you didn't send the message, someone presumably used your mobile, either to cast suspicion on you or to trick this Birna woman down to the beach. It might be someone she wouldn't have wanted to meet otherwise."

  "In either case we're dealing with a very cold-blooded murderer, someone who intended to murder Birna and had a plan," Thora said. "I must say that's unusual for Icelan
d. Murders here are generally committed in the kitchen, when two drunks start fighting and one of them grabs a carving knife. I can't imagine what Birna must have got herself into for this to happen."

  Thora and Matthew both turned to Jonas. "It's vital that you remember where you were when the text message was sent," she said. "Are you in the habit of leaving your mobile lying around?"

  "That's the point," said Jonas. "The mobile connection here is very erratic, so there's no reason to lug it around with me."

  "But where were you? Do you remember?" Matthew asked.

  Jonas scratched his head. "I don't recall right now. If I had some peace and quiet, I might remember. I can't force myself; my mind is a total blank. I'm not used to having to come up with alibis—it doesn't usually matter where I was."

  "Hash screws up your short-term memory, Jonas," Thora said. "You ought to be able to remember where you were: it's only two days ago. Wasn't that the evening of the seance? I saw it advertised in reception."

  Jonas tapped his forehead. "Yes, yes. Of course. Thursday night." He still looked blank. "But I can't quite remember what I was doing. I wasn't at the seance, that's for certain."

  "Great," Thora said. "But keep trying to remember. It's important." She took the mobile out of his hands and browsed through the messages once more. "One thing strikes me as odd," she mused after reading them all again. "Why should Birna obey the message? If I received a message from you telling me to meet you by a cave, I'd call you back to ask why."

  "She wouldn't have wondered about that. She'd suggested I build a little restaurant on the beach by that cave, but I wasn't terribly excited at the prospect. She would have rushed straight there if she thought I'd changed my mind," said Jonas.

  "And was this common knowledge?" Matthew asked.

  "More or less," Jonas replied. "She talked a lot, Birna did. Discretion wasn't exactly her middle name."

  Thora stared at Jonas, deep in thought. "Tell me one thing. Since you didn't kill her, who could have done it? You described her as a wonderful person, someone nobody disliked. I can't imagine many people would have a motive for killing a fairly run-of-the-mill architect."

  Jonas looked from her to Matthew. "Ahem. Maybe I didn't quite tell the whole truth. She was actually a total bitch. None of my staff could stand her. She talked down to them, took the piss out of them for the hotel's philosophy . . . So there's a long list of people who hated her. But I don't know how many would have gone so far as to kill her. Who would? It's crazy."

  "I hope for your sake that you're overlooking a very obvious lead," said Matthew, "otherwise the police will make you the prime suspect."

  "Go off and try to remember where you were on Thursday evening," Thora said. "In the meantime Matthew and I will try to find out some more about Birna. Be prepared to have to hand over your mobile. Don't resist. They've probably seen the message on Birna's mobile and just want yours to confirm it. Under no circumstances delete it. That would just look even more suspicious."

  "Oh. Would it?" said Jonas glumly.

  "And give me back my SIM card. There's no need for the police to get hold of that."

  "SOMEHOW I'M CONVINCED THE MURDER IS CONNECTED WITH THIS house or the area," said Thora, plucking a blade of grass absentmindedly.

  "What makes you think that?" Matthew asked, sipping his coffee. They were sitting in loungers on the lawn behind the hotel, enjoying the view across Faxafloi Bay. "The motive is much more likely to be in the present than the past: love, money, madness. The murderer could even have been a complete stranger; maybe he saw a woman on her own and lost control of himself."

  Thora chewed on the stalk. "The text message suggests otherwise."

  Twirling the piece of grass between her teeth, she added, "I just have a feeling that it's connected with the hotel in some way. There's something about this building. And her diary too. It doesn't contain a word about love or money. It gives the impression Birna was a workaholic."

  "Couldn't it be just her work diary? Maybe she kept another one about her private life." Matthew watched the blade of grass flicking up and down in the corner of Thora's mouth. "I didn't know Icelandic women chewed the cud." He grimaced. "Does that taste good?"

  "Try it. It focuses the mind," Thora said, plucking another piece. She handed it to him and smiled when he pulled a face but forced himself to try. "There's bound to be something in that diary to help us discover the murderer." She watched Matthew chewing the grass. "Don't you like it? You just need a pair of rubber boots and you'll make the perfect Icelandic farmer."

  "Rubber belongs in tires, elastic bands, and tennis balls, not footwear." Matthew removed the blade of grass from his mouth. "Shouldn't we take a look at the diary?"

  Thora sat up in her sunlounger. "Maybe we should do one thing first. The diary contained a plan of the other farmhouse on this land. It included all kinds of remarks that we might be able to puzzle out if we go there."

  Matthew sat up as well. "It's up to you. I'll follow and play bodyguard." He winked at her. "I have the feeling that this investigation will lead you into all kinds of dubious territory. You've already burgled a dead woman, stolen her belongings, and hindered the course of justice by allowing Jonas to erase suspicious information from his mobile. I can't wait to see where this ends."

  “The name Kristin is written here, followed by a question mark. Maybe we should start there." Thora pointed at the pages showing the plan of the farmhouse. They were standing in a room leading from the hallway of the old farmhouse and faced the choice of going upstairs or inspecting the ground floor, which according to the drawing ought to consist of two living rooms, a kitchen, storeroom, toilet, and study.

  "Isn't that upstairs? Shouldn't we check down here first?" Matthew said, peering through a doorway to his left.

  "Sure," Thora said, slamming the diary shut. She had given up trying not to leave her fingerprints on it, as she didn't intend to return it unless she was forced to. "Ugh, what a stink." A strange smell that Thora couldn't place permeated the house. It was a mixture of rising mildew, dry dust, and mothballs. One thing was certain—the place had not been aired properly for decades. "Yuck," she said, putting her hand over her nose and mouth.

  Matthew took a deep breath. "You should try and get used to it as quickly as possible. You stop noticing it after a while." Bold words, but he pulled a face as soon as he had spoken them. "Oof, can't we open a window in here?"

  They entered the room on the left, which according to Birna's plan was a study. The door handle was antique, made of thick wood, and needed a good tug to open. The door seemed to be warped, and Thora was struck by how much thicker modern doors were. She went in behind Matthew and they looked around in silence.

  "Not much to see here," he muttered after they had scanned the empty bookshelves along the walls and opened the drawers of a large desk beneath the dirty window. The drawers turned out to be as empty as the shelves, apart from one ancient pencil. It had been sharpened with a knife, and there was no rubber on the end.

  "Look at this, though," said Thora. "It looks like there were books on these shelves not that long ago." She pointed to the dust. It was thick at the edges but thinner toward the back of the shelves, the difference barely perceptible.

  Matthew went over to examine them. "I agree. Do you suppose Birna took the books? Maybe they were valuable."

  Thora shrugged. "I doubt it. She didn't mention any books in her notes, although I guess she wouldn't have if she planned to steal them.

  The previous owners must have taken them. Jonas said they told him they'd remove all the contents."

  They went farther inside the house, where they found two adjoining living rooms with old-fashioned furniture: a tatty three-piece suite that would have been stylish in its day, an imposing sideboard, and a mahogany dining set with a faded embroidered cloth on the table. There were small side tables with no ornaments. Two paintings hung on the walls, one of a ship and the other showing Snaefellsnes glacier. Both were too fil
thy to read the artist's name. The sideboard was empty, as was the cabinet.

  "I dare you to throw yourself on to the sofa," said Matthew, pointing at the dusty upholstery. The vague outline of a flower pattern was visible through the dirt. "I really want to see the cloud it would send up."

  "No, thanks," Thora said. "You do it. I'll give you a hundred kronur." Matthew stroked her arm. "I could think of a better reward than hard cash."

  Thora smiled. "We could come to some arrangement." Then she looked back at the sofa and wrinkled her nose. "But I think you should give it a miss; I'm not sure the dust would settle before evening and we might not find our way back out. Come on, let's check the kitchen."

  The kitchen was not as spartan as the other rooms, but it was just as antiquated, with modest oiled-wood cupboards and a small, shallow sink. Compared with a modern kitchen, the work surface was not large, but there was much more floor space than Thora was accustomed to. Wooden spoons and a steel fish slice hung from hooks on the wall, and a tin coffeepot stood on the stove.

  "Weird that they left so much personal stuff," Thora said, looking around.

  Matthew opened one of the kitchen cupboards and found an assortment of cups and glasses. "Isn't it one of those boring chores, though? Always getting put off until later, and then it never gets done. Maybe the householders died and didn't have any use for it, and the heirs must have already had enough coffeepots and furniture, so couldn't be bothered to—" He stopped short and pointed at a cardboard box on one of the kitchen chairs. "Look, what's that?"

  The box was full of items wrapped in newspaper. Beside it lay a pile of magazines. Thora picked one up to see the date. "It's from this May. The previous owners have been here packing up quite recently. And what's this?" she continued, pointing at a thermos flask that had been obscured by the box. "This isn't old." She lifted the flask and shook it. Liquid splashed around inside and Thora unscrewed the lid. She took a cautious sniff. "Coffee," she said. "This must have been left by Elin and Borkur, or by whoever they sent to remove all this stuff." She put the flask down again.