Matthew woke with a grunt. "I wasn't asleep," he responded. "Have you finished?"
"Yes," Thora said, picking up the sheets of paper. "At least, this is all I can remember right now."
"Tell me," Matthew said, propping himself back up. His body had slid down from the head of the bed when he fell asleep.
"Firstly, there's the ghost. I've talked to quite a few people and they all agree this place is haunted. Although most of the locals are fairly gullible, I'm inclined to believe something happened here—"
Matthew interrupted her. "Are you kidding?" he asked. "You think there's some truth in the ghost story?"
"No, of course not," Thora said tetchily. "You didn't let me finish. I was going to say that presumably there's a natural explanation. Most people here believe in the supernatural and might interpret strange goings-on in those terms—incidents for which there might be other, more normal explanations. I think we ought to try to find out what they are. Ghosts on the lawn, the sound of children crying in the middle of the night, apparitions in the bedrooms."
"The ghost only appeared in Jonas's room," Matthew said, pedantic as ever. "But that might not matter. How can you explain all that? Maybe it's aliens?"
"Ha, ha," said Thora humorlessly. "The thought struck me that it might just have been Birna and Bergur having sex outside. The counselor said they went in for rough sex. Who knows, the wailing sound might have come from them and the 'ghosts' could have been them, looking for somewhere to go?"
"I heard the crying, and it had nothing to do with sex," said Matthew, blushing slightly because he knew Thora thought he'd imagined it. "Besides, Birna was dead by the time I heard it."
Thora regarded him thoughtfully. "I don't know how to say this, but I don't think you heard anything. I think you dreamed the whole thing." Seeing that Matthew was about to protest, she quickly went on, "Anyway, I'm sure there's an explanation and I've resolved to find it, because it could be linked to the murders."
"Wouldn't doing that ruin Jonas's case about the concealed defects in the property?" he asked. "If you can explain the ghosts, you have nothing to base the compensation claim on."
"No, of course, that would be a major setback—if the case had any legal merit to begin with," she replied. "I do think Jonas is telling the truth about what prompted him to bring the action, though: these 'ghosts' have a negative effect on his employees and therefore on his business. If I can explain the hauntings and prove that they were not supernatural, I've achieved his ultimate goal. The employees will be happy, and Jonas can stop worrying about resignations and demands for pay raises."
"That's if they believe you," said Matthew. "Even if people listen, they don't necessarily hear."
Thora put down one sheet of paper and picked up another. "Whatever. Either way, I think there's a logical explanation." She skimmed the page and looked up. "Then there's Birna's murder. There are several things about it that need closer examination."
"Such as your weird client?" Matthew smirked.
Thora resisted a momentary urge to throw the ashtray at him. Instead she said, "Yes, actually. Among others. He may well be more involved in this than he admits. For example, he didn't tell me the truth about his connection with Birna. It would be good to hear an unbiased account of their relationship and how it ended."
"What do you think about the message sent to Birna from his mobile?" Matthew asked. "Do you believe it was sent without his knowledge?"
Thora shrugged. "Damned if I know. Actually, I find it hard to believe Jonas killed Birna, whether he sent that message or not. He's the type who wouldn't admit to sending it, because of what happened afterward. He mightn't have met her there, even if he sent the text. Maybe something came up, or he simply changed his mind." After a pause she added, "If so, Jonas might have told the murderer where they were going to meet and he saw his chance."
"Who, though?" asked Matthew.
"I don't know, but Jonas might be able to tell us something." Then she shook her head. "No, he won't, actually. He can't say anything without admitting that he sent the message. We'll never get him to do
that."
"The other possibility, of course, is that the murderer stole his mobile and sent the message in Jonas's name. He said he never has his phone on him," Matthew reminded her. "There are plenty of people who'd have had the opportunity. Guests at the hotel, staff, and of course the audience at the seance. The problem with this theory is that no one at the hotel, or at least no one attending the seance, could have made it down to the beach to kill Birna—not if the murder was committed around nine, as the text message suggests."
"Agreed," said Thora, looking back at her notes. "Then there's this farmer, Bergur. I put him at the bottom of the page because he's doubly involved through the man who was found dead at his stables. I think that's a hell of a coincidence. Two bodies in three days, one his mistress, the other on his property. I'd really like to know the identity of that man."
Matthew's eyes narrowed. "Have you considered Bergur's wife? She would seem to have ample reason for getting rid of Birna, if their marriage meant more to her than to her husband."
Thora nodded slowly. "You're right, of course. Maybe we ought to pay her a call. What pretext should we use?"
"We could offer to muck out the stables," suggested Matthew, laughing. "She's bound to need that done."
Thora smiled. "Yes, that might work—if she's blind and stupid. No one would believe you're a shit-shoveler. You might as well offer her Icelandic lessons." She inspected his neatly pressed trousers and crisp white shirt. "Perhaps you could say you're a Mormon missionary. You wouldn't even need to change your clothes."
Matthew ignored her. "Why don't we tell them the truth?" he suggested. "We could meet them both separately."
"And what's the 'truth?' That we suspect her of murder?" Thora shook her head. "That won't work."
"The truth has many sides," Matthew said. "You just say you're investigating the hauntings. That's no lie."
Thora pondered. "Actually, that's true. Also, they might know something about the history of the farm and the area. That's not such a bad idea."
"What else have you got?" asked Matthew. "Surely you don't have only three candidates?"
Thora read quickly down the page. "No, of course not. I find that canoeist, Throstur Laufeyjarson, very suspicious. We need to talk to him."
Matthew shrugged, unconvinced. "What, just because he paddled away when he saw us on the beach?"
"Among other things, yes," she replied. "And I thought the Japanese father and son were quite odd, although that's probably just my imagination." She looked back at the page. "That waiter, Jokull, was very negative about Birna as well. Then there's the old politician, Magnus. He was definitely hiding something. Why wouldn't he admit asking after Birna when he checked in, for example?"
"You're kidding, right?" said Matthew. "He's so ancient he couldn't kill a potted plant. He may well have something to hide, but I can't quite envisage him sending a text and then scrambling down on to the beach to kill someone. And why are you just focusing on men? The murderer could just as easily be female."
"Like who?" Thora asked. "Vigdis the receptionist? Or that drunken sex therapist, Stefania?"
"Why not?" retorted Matthew. "Or Bergur's wife, as I said earlier? I'm just pointing out that you know far too little to rule anyone out."
Thora sighed. "I know. Unfortunately." She picked up the last page. "Then there are things that I want to look into even though they may have nothing to do with Birna's murder."
"Fire away," said Matthew. "This is fun."
"I'd like to know who Kristin was," Thora said. "Her name's in Birna's diary, so it's possible that she's linked with the murder."
Matthew snorted with laughter, but stopped when Thora glared at him. "Go on."
"Also, I'd like to take a look at Birna's studio. I've been in her room, and although I'm not an architect, it's obvious that she did only a limited amount of work there. There
was no computer, for example."
"Have you asked Jonas?"
"No, I haven't. It only occurred to me just now when I was making notes. But I will. Since someone went to the trouble of tearing her room apart, there must be something worth having in it."
"I agree," said Matthew. "But if her studio's in Reykjavik, the police are practically certain to have sealed it."
"I'm almost positive she did some work out here. Jonas seemed to think so," said Thora, turning the page over. "And there's more," she continued, reading through her last few notes. "I'd like to know where Grimur is buried." She looked up from the sheet. "Plus I'm dying to find out what happened to that young man in the wheelchair."
"My God," Matthew said. "Don't start that again."
"I have to know," insisted Thora. "If only because the waiter acted so strangely when I mentioned him. It was very odd." Looking back at the page, she added, "We also need to find out why the police asked Jonas about foxes and pins, and of course what 'RER' stands for. And, as I said, I'd like to know more about the second victim."
"It's good to know exactly what you want," teased Matthew. "That on its own is enough for some people."
Thora wasn't listening. "I also need to know a bit more about Nazi activity in Iceland," she said as she gathered up the papers.
Matthew gave such a mighty groan that Thora thought for a moment he was in pain. "God, the bloody Nazis," he grumbled. "They always turn up sooner or later."
Chapter 21
THORA FELT as though she had been transported back in time at least half a century. She was sitting in a living room crammed with highly polished furniture.
"Jonas is very unhappy that this didn't come up when the deeds were signed," she said, the springs of the old sofa creaking as she leaned back. It was an imposing piece of furniture with exceptionally deep seat cushions, so when she finally touched the back of the sofa, she realized what a stupid position she had ended up in and hurriedly sat up again. She was only just tall enough to sit against the back of the sofa without her feet dangling in the air.
Borkur and his sister, Elin, had called her earlier that morning and invited her to their house in Stykkisholmur. Thora decided to take them up on it instead of having them come to the hotel. She welcomed the chance to get away, hoping a change of scenery might clear her mind.
The house was one of the most elegant in town. It had clearly been built by a man of means, and was very well maintained. Probably their great-grandfather's house, Thora thought. He had made money from schooner fishing and had the sense to sell out before the trawlers took over. When they arrived, Matthew had admired the corrugated-iron-clad house. It was beautifully decorated, with white-painted gables, window frames, and guttering. Because the conversation would be held in Icelandic, he had opted instead to look around the town, so Thora was sitting by herself beneath the watchful eyes of Borkur and Elin, who sat facing her with their hands resting authoritatively on the arms of their ornate chairs.
"Those are old wives' tales. I would never have thought them relevant in a modern business deal. Ghosts of abandoned children! I don't know what to say," said Borkur dismissively. "And I can't help wondering if it would have made a difference if he had known. All that man was worried about was clinching the deal. He wasn't interested in the salmon run in the river or anything."
"Actually, given the nature of his business, I'm certain this would have mattered a great deal to him," she corrected him politely. "Salmon would be a secondary consideration in this context, but the supernatural definitely wouldn't."
Borkur snorted derisively. "And what's he asking for, exactly, based on this nonsense? A discount on the sale price?"
"Yes, for example," replied Thora. "That would be one option."
"I've never heard anything like it," he bellowed. "Do we need to hire a lawyer?" He turned to his sister, his face thunderous.
Elin, sitting impassively at his side, replied, "Shouldn't we discuss this further? I'm sure we can resolve it." She addressed Thora. "Can't we? Or is Borkur right?"
"If I thought the only solution was a discount or damages, I'd have sent you a letter to that effect," Thora answered. "I've come here to discuss the matter and see if we can't find another way around it."
"Damages," muttered Borkur. "I'm the one who ought to be claiming damages. I should be at work instead of sitting here having this ridiculous conversation."
"Oh, come on," his sister said irritably. "I bet your staff were glad to get rid of you. They'll probably have a collection and pay you to stay away."
Borkur flushed beet-red, but chose not to answer. Instead he turned to Thora again. "Here's your answer," he snarled. "You can tell Jonas that we don't give a shit about this gobbledygook, and neither will anyone else. I can't believe any court would award damages because of a ghost." Breathing heavily, he added, "You must have been pretty hard to find—a lawyer who's prepared to take on rubbish like this."
Thora did not care for the implication that she was a third-rate lawyer, but decided to hold her tongue. She knew that losing one's temper was the best way to lose an argument. "Naturally, it's up to you what you do," she said calmly, "but I would like to remind you that judges get annoyed when people don't try their utmost to resolve disputes before litigating. Courts are a last resort, not the first step."
Elin placed her hand over her brother's, which was gripping the carved arm of his chair. "I understand," she said to Thora. "But how else can we resolve this? What do you propose?" She turned to her brother, smiling encouragingly. "We're open to suggestions."
"Call in an exorcist, maybe?" grunted Borkur. "How about that?"
Ignoring him, Thora focused on Elin. "Shouldn't we start by discussing whether you two have ever been aware of any supernatural activity there?"
"Yes, why not," Elin replied, her grip on her brother's fingers tightening. "That's easy. I've never been aware of anything strange going on, because I've hardly spent any time there. Our mother was brought up at Kreppa with our grandfather Grimur. His brother, Bjarni, owned the land at Kirkjustett where the hotel was built, but he died young. If there were any stories about that farm, we wouldn't necessarily have heard them."
"How about you?" Thora asked Borkur. "Have you ever noticed anything, or heard any accounts of either farm being haunted?"
He shook his head impatiently. "Of course not. There's nothing to notice or hear. I don't go in for that bullshit. And I've spent even less time there than Elin."
Thora turned her attention back to the sister. "So how come the farms are in such good condition? I didn't see Kirkjustett before the hotel was built, but we took a look at Kreppa and I assume that Kirkjustett was in a similar state."
"Yes, it would have been," Elin answered, her voice level. "We looked after the farmhouses well." She gestured around to the room they were sitting in. "This house has been in the family ever since my great-grandfather built it. We've always used it as a retreat when we come to this part of the country. It's much more home, and not as remote as those two old farms. My brother and I don't come here often, but we could easily have shared it."
"But why maintain the farmhouses? What was the point?" asked Thora.
"Well," Elin said. "It meant a lot to Mother when she was still in good health. She didn't want to disturb anything because she planned to move back to the countryside in her old age and wanted to keep everything the way it was. That never happened, though, because care provision for the elderly is very basic here, compared with Reykjavik." She lifted her chin. "Nonetheless, we kept the houses after Mother fell ill, because we had the idea that Borkur's children and mine could eventually inherit one farmhouse each. Although the two of us don't mind sharing this house, we knew that someday our children might want to come here with their own families."
"So why did you sell them?" Thora asked. "You kept the farms in good shape for decades because of your children, then sold them once they'd grown up." By way of explanation she added, "I've met your daughter
, Elin—Berta—and I expect your other children are of a similar
age."
Elin smiled coolly. "That's just the way it turned out. I only have the one daughter, actually, but Borkur has two sons. Neither of them has shown any interest in Snaefellsnes, so there's no need to hold on to the farms."
"What about Berta?" Thora asked. "I met her here and it sounded like she comes out here quite a lot."
Elin gave the same cold smile. "Berta spends a lot of time here, that's true. But Borkur and I have agreed that I'm going to buy his share of this place, so it's unnecessary for my daughter and me to own two houses in western Iceland. It's enough of an investment for the family to own all those farm properties. In fact, we're getting rid of them one by one."
"Do you own other farms around here?" Thora asked.
"Yes," Borkur chipped in, his chest swelling with pride. "Quite a few."
Thora wrinkled her brow. "So why didn't you just sell Jonas one of those?" she asked, puzzled. She thought that for most people the last thing they sold would be the property with sentimental value.
"Jonas was looking for farmland with an old house on it," Borkur replied morosely. "He really wanted to buy the site once he heard there was not just one farmhouse on it but two."
"He made us a very good offer, as you know," Elin added. "It was simply time to make a decision."
Thora wondered whether to probe further into their reasons for selling the farms. She wasn't convinced, particularly given Elin's chilly demeanor. Not wanting to provoke the woman with more questions, she changed the subject. "Did you know anything about the history of the farms?"
"Did we know anything about it?" repeated Elin. "Of course we did, but unfortunately I'm not much good with things like history and genealogy." She released Borkur's hand. "The same goes for my brother, I'm afraid."
Borkur sat up a little and cleared his throat. "I've always meant to look into it in more detail, but I can never find the time."
My Soul to Take: A Novel of Iceland Page 19
