My Soul to Take: A Novel of Iceland (20 page)
"Yes, it is," agreed Thora. "So she wasn't one of those annoying women?"
"No, not at all. She was lovely," said Stefania. She emptied her glass in one gulp. Then she removed the tiny sword with the cocktail cherry, which she put in her mouth and sucked before ceremoniously placing it on the bar beside the others. "I'm devastated by all this, and I don't really know how I feel." She looked up at Thora. "I'm not in the habit of coming here on Sunday evenings, even though I live locally."
"I understand," said Thora, although she didn't, not at all. "You seem to have known Birna well—do you have any idea who could possibly have wanted to harm her?"
Stefania lifted her empty glass and spun it. The last few drops swirled around in the bottom. "Yes, I do," she said calmly.
"Really?" Thora could not conceal her eagerness. "Who is it?"
Stefania regarded her beadily. "I'm sworn to confidentiality. Sex therapists are like doctors in that respect. And lawyers."
Thora was careful not to burst out laughing at the analogy. Perhaps it was not so farfetched—some of the divorce cases handled by her colleague Bragi could verge on sex counseling. "Well, I'm a lawyer and there are exceptions to the rule. The greater good, for instance."
After thinking for a while, Stefania conceded, "If you're a lawyer, it's safe to tell you, right? It's only a couple of names, and you won't tell anyone, will you? It's certainly not a question of that 'greater good' of yours."
Thora could hardly believe how well this was going. She had envisaged a long session at the bar, waiting for Stefania to drink enough to forget her oath of confidentiality. "Absolutely not, I can't tell anyone, I promise."
"Great," Stefania said. "I've felt sick ever since I heard the news, because I can't tell anyone. Maybe this'll make me feel better." She looked Thora in the eye. "Promise?"
"I promise," Thora repeated. She crossed her fingers behind her back—she'd have to tell Matthew. "Who wanted to harm Birna?"
Stefania clearly hadn't exaggerated about needing to get this secret off her chest. When she spoke, it was at triple speed. "She was having an affair with a married farmer from around here. His name's Bergur and he lives at Tunga. The sex was kind of extreme, and she came to me for counseling. She thought it had gone too far."
"And could you help her?" asked Thora. "Did you advise her to stop seeing him?" A breakup might be sufficient grounds for a man to commit murder, if he was unbalanced.
Stefania put down her glass. "No." She put one of her red fingernails in her mouth and bit it, hard. When she removed the finger, there was a white mark on the nail where the varnish had cracked. "No, I didn't." She stared at her empty glass as if in a trance. "I told her just to go for it. That rough sex wasn't necessarily dangerous."
"Oh, dear," said Thora. "I can see why you feel bad."
The sex therapist nodded slowly. When she looked up at Thora, she spotted Matthew behind her. Until now she had been so absorbed in her own misery that she hadn't really noticed him. She smiled, a little unpleasantly. "Who's that? A friend of yours?" she asked coquettishly.
Thora decided to use the language barrier to her advantage. "He's a foreigner. He's here to relax." She leaned over to Stefania and lowered her voice. "He's impotent. Result of an accident." Then she nodded conspiratorially and sat up straight again. "So sad." Although Thora felt a bit bad about having lied about Matthew's sexual prowess she was certain that this sex therapist minx would leave him be as a result. The end in this case would have to justify the means.
Stefania's eyes widened. "What a shame," she said, crestfallen. "If you want, I know a few techniques that could help you. You can have a lot of fun without actual penetration."
"No, thank you." Thora smiled politely. "But thanks for the offer." She turned to Matthew. "Come on," she said in German, "the food should be on its way."
Stefania smiled at Matthew. "It's very important that you eat well and don't miss any meals," she said sympathetically.
"Okay, thanks," said Matthew, bemused.
Thora put her hand on Stefania's shoulder. "Thank you very much. I'll definitely see you soon, because I'll still be working on this project for Jonas."
Stefania looked at her in astonishment. "Don't you want to know who the other one is?"
"Which other one?" she asked, confused.
"The other man who wanted to harm Birna," replied Stefania with a hint of irritation.
Thora nodded quickly. "Oh, yes, definitely."
Stefania leaned over to whisper in her ear. When she was so close that Thora was certain her ear had been smeared with lipstick, Stefania said in a low voice, "Jonas."
THORA WATCHED THE POLICE CARS PULL UP. THREE CARS—CLEARLY
something was going on. They drove slowly onto the graveled space outside the hotel and parked side by side in one corner. The slamming of car doors broke the silence as six officers got out, including one woman.
"What now?" Thora wondered aloud. "They said they weren't coming back until tomorrow."
They watched the group stride toward the hotel entrance, outside which she and Matthew were lounging in the trendy patio furniture probably provided for smokers, enjoying the evening sun with a glass of wine each. She was still hungry, because Matthew had repaid her indifference to the menu by ordering her just a green salad. He had hardly fared better with his vegetable lasagne, which was barely a mouthful. As a result, they had twice had to order extra bread, and even that had not sufficed.
She knew two of the officers by sight; the pair who had questioned Jonas and confiscated his mobile. The elder one was named Thorolfur, she thought.
"Good evening," she said, addressing him.
"Hello," he said dryly.
"You weren't expected until tomorrow," Thora said. "Is something wrong?"
Without stopping or looking at them, Thorolfur answered as he passed their table, "Things change." Then the group of officers vanished into the building.
THORA CLEARE
D Her
throat. "There's one thing I don't understand." She looked at Jonas, who was sitting beside her, his face ashen. "Why do you want to talk to my client? He doesn't own the stables, and I can't imagine that anything has emerged in your initial investigation to suggest that he was involved in this." She regarded Thorolfur steadily.
"Has it?"
Now it was Thorolfur's turn to clear his throat. "I would have thought it was obvious. The last time a body was found here in the neighborhood, it turned out to be a woman who worked for your client, and since that was only a few days ago, our first question must be whether anyone is missing from here. We have reason to believe that the same person was responsible."
Jonas leaned forward in his chair. "Would you please use my name? I don't exactly feel comfortable at being called 'a client.'"
Thora suppressed a groan but looked at Jonas and nodded. Then she turned back to Thorolfur. "In other words, you're only here to ask Jonas whether the deceased could be a guest or employee of the hotel? Not because you consider him connected in any other way?"
Thorolfur clenched his fists. "I didn't say that. The investigation is only in its early stages, as I indicated. However, it should be clear that at this point in time we are only trying to discover the identity of the deceased. What happens after that is completely undecided."
"These stables," said Thora, "am I allowed to ask who owns them?"
"Ask what you like," Thorolfur answered moodily. "I may answer."
He cracked his knuckles. "But it's no secret that the stables in question belong to the farm of Tunga."
Thora gave a start, and hoped that Thorolfur hadn't noticed. "Is it close to here?" she asked casually.
"It's the next farm along, just west of here," Jonas chipped in, relieved to be able to contribute.
"I see," Thora said. "Then it must be very close to the beach where Birna's body was found, right?" She addressed the question to Thorolfur. Since he didn't seem about to answer, she added, "Oughtn't you to be talking to the people who live there, rather than those at the hotel?" She had decided not to tell the police about the farmer's relationship with Birna until she had met him herself. She resolved to contact Bergur first thing in the morning, since the truth was bound to come out. Once that happened, she might not get the opportunity to speak to him.
"Let's get back to the subject," Thorolfur said tetchily, turning to Jonas. "I presume you know the stables in question?"
"Yes, sort of," Jonas answered. "I know where they are and I have been inside."
"Do you ride?" asked Thorolfur.
"No, not at all," Jonas answered. "Just interested. I hope to go into that line of business in the future. At the moment the hotel operation is keeping me busy."
"So what were you doing in the stables, that time you went inside?" said the detective.
"Rosa was kind enough to show me the horses," Jonas said, adding hurriedly, "Rosa is the lady of the house, Bergur's wife. We've discussed horses on the few occasions that we've met, and she wanted to show me a young stallion they had just bought. That was quite a while ago, at least six months."
"Do you remember the name of this stallion?" Thorolfur asked.
"Yes," Jonas said. "I think it was called Snowy." He smiled. "It ought to have been called Fire, really—I've never seen a horse with such a temper."
Thorolfur took his time formulating his next question, scribbling something on a notepad. Thora was ill at ease. There was something about these questions about the horse that suggested that this was more than a fact
-
finding mission. She decided to wait and see what happened.
Eventually Thorolfur looked up from his notepad and glared at Jonas. "In other words, for six months you have known that in these particular stables is a horse that is rather bad-tempered—indeed, uncontrollable? Is that correct?"
"Yes," said Jonas, looking surprised. "Why do you ask?"
"No particular reason," the detective said, jotting something down. "And what about foxes?" he asked. "Can you tell me anything about foxes around here?"
Astonished, Jonas looked from Thorolfur to Thora. "Am I meant to answer that?" he asked, perplexed. Thora nodded. She was dying to know where all this was heading. Jonas turned back to Thorolfur. "I don't quite understand the question. Do you want to know about foxes in general, or whether I have any?"
"Well," said Thorolfur, "I would like to know whether there are many foxes in the vicinity. But if you keep foxes, it would also be good to know that."
Jonas leaned back in his chair and frowned. "I don't keep any foxes. Why would I keep foxes? This isn't a fur farm." He was addressing his words to Thora, who shrugged but motioned him to continue. Jonas did, although he clearly found it uncomfortable. "But there are wild foxes around here. I know because they attack the eider ducks and the farmers complain about it. To tell the truth, that's all I know about foxes." He fell silent for a while before adding, "Well, except that they are the only mammal that was native to Iceland at the time of the settlement."
Thorolfur smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I wasn't asking for a lecture on the natural sciences." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Tell me another thing. Do the
letters 'RER' mean anything to
you?"
The hotelier shook his head. "No. I can't say they do." He looked at Thora. "How about you?"
"I haven't the faintest," she answered, and turned to Thorolfur. "What does it mean?"
"It's not important," he said firmly, then changed the subject. "Do you have a sewing room in the hotel here?"
"No," replied Jonas. "Do you have a loose button or a hem that needs mending?" he asked, in apparent sincerity.
Thorolfur did not answer Jonas, but continued, "Do you offer acupuncture?"
"I don't personally, but we have discussed calling in an acupuncturist temporarily," Jonas answered, startled. "It's an ancient practice, but you can achieve incredible results with all sorts of ailments. I know of a man who smoked a pack a day of unfiltered Camels for thirty years—" He got no further.
"In case you hadn't noticed, we're not making small talk here," Thorolfur growled. "I ask; you answer. Preferably yes or no, as appropriate." He had been rubbing one of his shoulders as he talked, and Thora prayed that Jonas would not offer him a hotstone massage.
"What I want to know is this: is there a sewing room here? Is acupuncture practiced? If not, do you offer any kind of service that requires pins or needles?"
Jonas thought for a moment, then answered in accordance with Thorolfur's instructions. "Yes," he said.
The policeman sighed. "Yes,
and...?
What kind of service?"
Thora indicated that Jonas should answer. "In each room is a little sewing kit, the size of a matchbox. It's for guests who need to make minor repairs to their clothes. I can fetch one of those sets if you want. There are several colors of thread, one needle, two or three buttons, and a safety pin, if memory serves. There's nothing else in it."
"No other pins?" Thorolfur asked.
"No," said Jonas, shaking his head. "I'm fairly sure of it." "I'd like to see one of those sets before I leave," Thorolfur said. "And take a look at where you keep the stock." He paused, glowering
at Jonas. "One last question. I've been notified that Birna's room was broken into."
"What?" exclaimed Jonas. "I didn't know that. Who told you that?"
"That's none of your business, unless you know who did it and when it happened." Thorolfur's glare didn't waver.
"I don't know anything about it. I haven't been in there since you had the room cordoned off on Friday evening and banned everybody from entering. I swear it wasn't me." Jonas was gabbling now. "I have no reason to go in there."
"That's what you say," Thorolfur said, finally looking down at his notebook. "Somebody felt they had a reason. If not you, then who?" He looked back up at Jonas.
"Well, I don't know. The murderer, I suppose," said Jonas, flustered.
"Is that everything?" interrupted Thora. "You said, 'One last question,' and Jonas has answered it now. Can we go?"
Thorolfur flapped his hand dismissively. "Please do. But I definitely need to talk to you again tomorrow," he said to Jonas. "Don't go anywhere."
Jonas's eyes widened, and Thora spoke before he could. "No, of course. We won't. I should remind you that I wish to be present any time Jonas is questioned. I assume that won't be a problem."
"No, no," replied Thorolfur. "Why would it be?"
Thora and Jonas left the office that he had lent to the police officers— if you could call it an office. It was used as a storeroom for cleaning supplies, but happened to also contain a desk that wouldn't fit anywhere else. Chairs had been fetched and arranged as comfortably as the limited floor space allowed, but the result was a little unconventional. As soon as they had entered the room, Thora had been struck by how unthreatening it was. She wondered if that would put the police at a disadvantage during their preliminary interviews. After being inside for a while, however, she had realized that the smell of disinfectant was so overpowering that it more than made up for the unimpressive atmosphere. She was indescribably relieved to walk out of there, and her mind was buzzing. Foxes? Pins? RER?
JONAS WAS KNOCKING BACK BRANDY. HE HAD INVITED THOR
A and
Matthew into his flat, as she needed to talk to him after the interrogation. Small but cozy, the flat was part of the hotel building. Thora was sitting beside Matthew on a soft leather sofa, a glass of water in her hand, and she had a magnificent view of the glacier to the west. Jonas sat in a chair beside them.
"They think I killed Birna and that man," he complained, taking another gulp of his cognac. "Are you sure you don't want any of this? It really calms you down."
"Do you know more than you told the police just now?" asked Thora. "What was that about foxes and needles? And the letters?"
"I don't have a clue, I swear," he replied. "I know nothing about that man and even less about foxes, needles, and letters. I was freaking out. I thought it was a trap."
"That's highly unlikely," Thora reassured him. "But it was certainly very odd." She waited as Jonas finished his drink and reached over to refresh it. "Tell me one thing, Jonas." He looked around. "Did you know that Birna was involved with a farmer from around here? A married man?"
Jonas blushed. "Well, I suspected she was, yes," he said, a strange look on his face.
"And you are presumably aware that the very same farmer owns those stables?" she persisted.
"Yes, I realized that," he said, "but I didn't want to say anything." "Why not?" she asked.
"I just didn't," Jonas replied, taking another swig. "Could it be because you were having a relationship with her yourself, and didn't want to risk being implicated further?" she said. "Maybe," answered Jonas sulkily.
"Why didn't you tell me that you were together?" shouted Thora, frustrated.
"It was nothing, nothing," he replied. "I had no reason to hurt her."
"So you split up amicably?" she asked. She looked sideways at Matthew, who was smothering a yawn. She was conducting the conversation in Icelandic so that Jonas's responses would be as natural as possible. Poor Matthew had to sit there like a gooseberry, looking out of the window at the glacier. She admired his composure; her ex
-
husband would already have nudged her several times to ask if they could leave.
"Yes, pretty much," Jonas replied. His eyes were a little glassy, but Thora couldn't tell whether through tiredness—it was past midnight— or alcohol. "I wouldn't have minded it going on a bit longer, but she wanted to move on. Said I was too old."
"It sounds as though you weren't too pleased about it," Thora said. "Did she go straight from you to Bergur?"
"Yes." Jonas scowled. "I suppose she did."
"You seem quite angry," Thora said. "Maybe I'm missing something, but I find it strange that you wanted her to continue working here under the circumstances, even if the split was amicable."
"It was. I'm not lying," he said. "What could I do? She didn't want me anymore. Life's like that sometimes. She was a good architect, and she understood my plans for developing the area. I'm man enough to be able to keep business and pleasure separate."
"Good for you," said Thora. "Let's just hope that the other witnesses back you up when they're questioned." She looked at him sternly. "If not, it won't look good."
"Why not?" Jonas asked, affronted. "Aren't I allowed to have girlfriends?"
"Of course you are," said Thora, slightly annoyed. "But you know what I mean. And another thing—who's the man in the stables? Maybe it's Bergur. What then?"
He turned pale. "I . . . I don't know."
Thora started to get up. "I shouldn't be painting too dark a picture. We don't even know yet if it was an accident or something worse."
Jonas looked at her. "Do you think the police would ask me about foxes and cryptic letters if a farmhand had fallen out of the hayloft? No, there's some connection with what happened here."
