My Soul to Take: A Novel of Iceland (26 page)
"Was semen found in Birna's vagina?" asked Thora. "I remind you that I must be presented with all the documentation if my client is taken into custody, because we would certainly appeal to the Supreme Court against any such order." She heard Jonas let out a faint moan.
Thorolfur was holding a pencil, and he chewed on it while he thought it over. "I see no legal impediment to confirming that semen was found in the deceased's vagina," he said eventually.
"May I ask whether your investigation uncovered Birna's relationship with a local farmer?" Thora asked, hoping the police were unaware of it. "This semen could be his."
"We know all about him," Thorolfur said, and a peculiar look crossed his face.
"Really?" she said. "Shouldn't you
be questioning him rather than
Jonas?"
"Oh, we are," Thorolfur said, skillfully twirling the pencil between his fingers. "Irrespective of the outcome of his DNA test, we will need a sample from your client."
"Why's that?" Thora asked. "If the semen turns out to be the farmer's, it can hardly be Jonas's." Thorolfur smiled cruelly and the truth dawned on Thora. "Was the semen from two different men?"
Thorolfur suddenly stopped playing with the pencil. "Perhaps," he replied, after a short pause.
That was all Thora needed to hear. Birna had had sex with two men on the day of her murder. Jonas was definitely one of them, and the other was either Bergur or the murderer, unless they were one and the same person. She could feel Jonas freezing up beside her, and knew enough about men to realize what was worrying him. She leaned over to him to murmur in his ear without the police hearing: "I'm sure you were first." She had to stop Jonas getting any more nervous. She felt him relax a little. "Having sex with someone is not the same as killing them, is it?" she remarked to Thorolfur, adding, "Which is not to say that Jonas is admitting to anything of that sort at this stage in the proceedings."
"No, not necessarily," he replied. "But when the murder victim sustains external and internal genital trauma consistent with rape, it starts to look a little different, doesn't it?"
Thora chose not to respond. "Is there anything else you would like Jonas to clarify, or is it just the semen?"
"There's more," Thorolfur said. "Let's discuss the text message sent to Birna from your mobile, Jonas. We have her phone and know what it says, when it was sent, and who sent it. Namely you. Can you explain why you sent her a message asking her to meet you at the spot where she ended up being killed? It would help if you could for example tell us where you were between nine and ten o'clock on the evening in question?"
Dismayed, Jonas turned to Thora. She nodded quickly and blinked at him. "I can't explain the message. I didn't send it, so someone must have taken my phone. I went for a walk around seven and left my mobile behind. Someone must have stolen it while I was out."
"Stolen, you say," drawled Thorolfur sarcastically. "Someone 'stole' it and returned it afterward, then?"
"Well, yes," replied Jonas hesitantly. "I don't always carry it; I leave it lying around, so it wouldn't be that difficult." He rubbed his temple, his nerves frayed. "The hotel was packed. There was a seance. Anyone could have done it."
"Strange that you mention that," the detective mused. "That's precisely the detail we were having difficulty with. As you say, the hotel was packed, yet no one recalls having seen you that evening. Where did your walk take you? Down to the beach?"
"No!" barked the hotelier, thumping the desk. "I went for a stroll, but first I walked down the drive to see if the contractor who was mending the drain had made any progress. Then I walked for maybe an hour afterward. When I got back, I dropped into my office and then went to my room. Someone must have seen me at the hotel. I wasn't keeping a low profile. I got back just before ten, and the seance was still going on, if I remember correctly."
"Nevertheless, no one admits to seeing you, either indoors or outside, at around that time. There was an interval between half past nine and ten. The seance guests were all over the hotel—some went out for a smoke; others bought coffee—but none of them saw you. Yet you say you came back around that time," said Thorolfur. "But let's change the subject. Last night another body was found in a stables nearby. Can you tell me where you were around dinnertime last night, Sunday?"
"Me? I was in Reykjavik," said Jonas. "When did you leave here?"
"I set off about two." His voice was trembling slightly. "And presumably you went via the tunnel?"
"Yes," replied Jonas, before Thora could stop him. There was something behind this line of questioning, and it disturbed her.
"Presumably in your own car?" Thorolfur persisted. He was smiling like the cat that got the cream.
"My client chooses not to answer the question," Thora quickly interjected. She put her hand on Jonas's leg and squeezed it tight.
"All right," said the detective, smiling wryly. "But we have established that you went to Reykjavik via the tunnel. Since it's strictly forbidden to go through it on horseback, on foot, or on a bicycle, we have to infer that you were driving a motor vehicle of some description."
"Yes, I went in my own car," said Jonas foolishly, in spite of the pressure that Thora was applying to his thigh. She couldn't resist the temptation to dig her nails in to punish his stupidity. Jonas winced and gave Thora a reproachful look, but she ignored him.
Thorolfur smiled even more widely. Then his face filled with scorn. He picked up some papers that were stapled together and slammed them down in front of the hotelier. "Here is a list of all the cars that drove through the Hvalfjordur Tunnel yesterday. Your car registration number isn't among them." He glared at Jonas. "How do you explain that?"
At last, Jonas had the presence of mind not to say anything. "My client chooses not to answer the question," said Thora. "I should make it clear that Jonas is very distraught at present, and what he said just now may have been a lapse of memory."
"It was
yesterday!"
replied Thorolfur. When neither Thora nor Jonas responded, he shrugged. "Be that as it may, let's turn to another matter."
Another?
Thora tried not to show the anguish she felt on Jonas's behalf. Whatever else could they have against him?
"THEN JONAS ARGUED WITH EIRIKUR, THE ONE THEY
FOUND DEAD
in the stables," Thora told Matthew. "Just before Eirikur left the hotel. And what's more, his bloodstream was full of sedatives. The same type that Jonas keeps on his bedside table." She sighed. "The bastards had a search warrant."
Matthew whistled. "So surely that means he's guilty?"
"Damned if I know," replied Thora. "His fingerprints were found on Birna's belt, and he definitely had sex with her the day she was murdered, although he refuses to admit it. Then he lied about going to Reykjavik yesterday." She showed Matthew the list of car registrations. "They wrote down the number of every car that went through the tunnel. Some poor bugger spent the whole night watching the tape from the security camera. They left this list behind, so I took it."
"Then what?" asked Matthew. "Where did they take him?"
"To Borgarnes," Thora replied. "He appears in the West Iceland District Court tomorrow morning. They'll demand a custody order." She ran her fingers through her hair. "And they'll get one, unless the judge is drunk."
"Is he likely to be?" Matthew asked, shocked.
"No, it's just a figure of speech," said Thora, sitting up in the armchair. "We can only hope, though."
"Oh, I forgot to tell you what happened while you were gone," Matthew suddenly announced. "I had a coffee at the bar, and when I was going through my pockets for some money, I found the medal I bought for you in Stykkisholmur. When I put it on the counter with the change, the man sitting next to me went berserk. It was the old guy, Magnus Baldvinsson."
"Really?" Thora was amazed. "What did he say?"
"No idea," Matthew said. "It was in Icelandic, but he didn't sound happy. In the end he picked up the medal and threw it down behind the bar. Then he stood up and walked away. The barman was speechless. He said Magnus was ranting about me provoking him. Then he gave me back the medal. He was as astonished as I was."
"I bet he was," said Thora, who could hardly believe her ears. "Magnus also reacted very oddly when I asked him about the Nazis, didn't he? It wasn't the kind of reaction you'd expect in Iceland," she explained. "Icelandic Nazism had hardly any following or impact, so even though everyone finds their politics repulsive, people don't generally attack total strangers at the sight of Nazi memorabilia. Maybe we should talk to him again." She reached for her mobile. "But not yet— right now, my number one priority is getting my kids back safely. It doesn't look like I'll be heading home myself any time soon." She dialed her son's number.
"Hello, Gylfi. It's Mum. Having fun in Selfoss?"
YO U
G
O
FIR
ST,"
said Thora, giving Matthew a gentle shove. "You can pretend to be a horse lover. They'll believe that, what with you being German." They were standing in the yard at Tunga hoping to meet Bergur, the farmer. To Thora's mind, he had to be the prime suspect in the murder of which Jonas was now accused. They had walked right up to the farmhouse, which seemed to have been built on the cheap. It looked like any other small detached house from the early 1970s, but in worse repair than most. Large blotches showed on the corrugated
-
iron roof where the paint had flaked off, and there were rusty streaks down the dirty yellow walls wherever the steel reinforcing rods were exposed. "Go on, don't be shy," urged Thora.
"You know it's not that, my dearest," replied Matthew, wrinkling his nose. "What's that disgusting smell?" He looked around the yard.
"Isn't it just a good old country smell?" Thora inhaled deeply through her nose. "Unless that beached whale is upwind of us. Come on," she said. "On second thought, I'll do the talking. It's probably best just to be honest about it." She knocked on the weathered front door. On it was a wooden sign with the names of the occupants painted in flamboyant script:
bergur
and
rosa
.
Thora hoped that the lady of the house wouldn't answer. Their business was with Bergur, and Thora didn't even know if his wife was aware of his relationship with Birna. She didn't want to be the bearer of news like that, and there would be no way to talk to Bergur without the subject cropping up. She crossed her fingers.
The door opened and a man in his thirties peered out. He was lean but well built, with broad shoulders and powerful biceps. Thora could easily understand what Birna had seen in him—there was something very appealing about his strong features and dark curly hair.
"Hello," she said. "Are you Bergur?"
"Yes," the man replied warily.
Thora smiled. "My name's Thora, and I'm a lawyer working for Jonas from the hotel. This is Matthew from Germany. He's backing me up, so to speak." Matthew nodded politely. "We wanted to have a quick word with you." She looked him in the eye. "About Birna's murder, and the other body that's been found."
Bergur glared at them. As Thora had anticipated, he was far from happy to see them. "I'm not sure I have anything to say to you," he said wearily. "I've been grilled endlessly by the police and I'm simply exhausted. Can't you just read the witnesses' statements? I've got nothing more to say."
Thora's face fell. "Actually, I prefer to talk to people in person instead of reading their accounts. And the questions I need answered aren't always asked." She sighed lightly. "But if you don't want to talk to us, maybe we'll just contact your wife tomorrow. I presume she won't be as tired as you are."
Bergur hesitated. "She won't want to talk to you any more than I
do."
"We'll just have to find out, won't we?" replied Thora. "I'll call her to explain my business. I'm sure she'll want to see me." That should do it, she thought, putting on her best poker face.
Bergur glanced back inside the house, then glowered at Thora. He pretended not to notice Matthew. "All right," he said grumpily. "I'll talk to you, but not here. There's a little coffee room in the stables where we can sit." He reached behind the door, put on some shoes, and called loudly, "Rosa! I'm going out." Then he shut the door behind him without another word, even though his wife had shouted back something unintelligible. He set off in silence.
"These stables," Thora called after him as he strode ahead toward a fairly new, corrugated-iron-clad building, "are they where Eirikur's body was found?" When Bergur didn't answer, Thora rolled her eyes at Matthew—they weren't making much progress. Then she pointed to her mouth to indicate that he should join in the conversation. He just smiled and shook his head.
They followed Bergur to a large door, which he threw open. "Come inside," he said.
"Thanks," Thora said, amused by Matthew's expression when the smell of horse dung hit them like a slap in the face. "That's a nice horsey smell," she said, out of earshot of Bergur, and winked at him. Matthew had clamped his mouth shut so tightly that it was impossible for him to smile, but his face relaxed a little when they reached the coffee room.
"You can sit here," said Bergur, pointing to three hard chairs around an old kitchen table. He leaned against a little sink unit on which stood a dirty coffee cup and box that had contained rifle ammunition.
"Thank you," Thora said as she sat down. She could see Bergur's lip curl as he watched Matthew dust off his chair before sitting. "I don't know if you heard me ask just now," she said, "but are these the stables where Eirikur's body was found?"
Bergur nodded. "Yes," he said reluctantly.
"And it was you who discovered him, wasn't it?" Thora continued. When he nodded silently, she went on. "And you stumbled upon Birna's body too. Isn't that weird?" she said disingenuously.
Instead of answering, Bergur stared fixedly at her from beneath his heavy brow, until Thora was forced to blink. Only then did he speak. "Are you trying to insinuate something?" he snapped. "If so, I'll say the same to you as I said to the police—I had nothing to do with either of those deaths."
"Murders," she corrected him. "They were both murdered. Be that as it may, we know you were having an affair with Birna. So was everything going well?"
Bergur flushed, and Thora was unsure if it was from anger or shame at discussing his infidelity with a stranger. When he spoke, his voice suggested the latter. "Things were just fine," he said, thinlipped.
"And did your wife know about it? What's her name again?" said Thora. "Rosa, that's it. Did Rosa know?"
His blush deepened. "No," he said. "She didn't know, and I don't think she's heard about it yet. Not from me, anyway."
"So it was just a fling?" asked Thora. "I only ask because you kept it hidden from your wife."
"It had become more than that," Bergur replied, stung. "I was going to divorce Rosa. The time just wasn't right."
"I understand," she said. "So there's probably no point telling her now, given what's happened?"
"That's none of your business," he cried, his face blazing now.
"No, you're right," agreed Thora. Her chair creaked as she tried to make herself more comfortable. "I heard one thing about Birna today that strikes me as odd in light of what you've just said." She fell silent, as if wondering whether to let Bergur in on the secret.
"What was it?" His curiosity was aroused.
"No, I'm sure it wasn't true," said Thora, and started examining her fingernails. Then she looked up. "Okay. The day Birna was murdered, she had sex with two men. You, I presume, and someone else—perhaps the murderer, perhaps not. Is it possible your relationship was just a bit of fun for her?"
Bergur drew himself up to his full height and took a deep breath. "I don't know where you got your information from, but I was told that she'd been raped. You don't have to be a genius to conclude that the second time was against her will," he yelled.
"So you're saying you were one of the two?" asked Thora.
Bergur sagged back against the sink. "Yes," he said. "It was fully consensual and hours before she died. We were together in the afternoon, and she was murdered that evening."
Thora paused, thinking. "Who do
you
think murdered Birna?" she asked. "You were close; you must have wondered."
"Jonas," he snarled. "Who else?"
Thora shrugged. "He says he's innocent. Just like you," she said.
"And why would he want her dead? She was working on a project that meant a lot to him. Without her it'll all fall apart, or at least be seriously delayed. I understand that he'd come to terms with breaking up with her, so he could hardly have been jealous, could he?"
"They were never really together," said Bergur angrily. "They were having sex, but it was never a relationship." He paused to catch his breath. "But he missed her terribly, and it's not true that he'd recovered from the rejection."
"How do you know?" she asked.
"Birna told me," said Bergur petulantly. "He was still chasing after her. That's why she stopped using her hotel room as a studio. He wouldn't leave her alone and she was unable to get any work done."
Thora was agog. "So where
did
she work?" she asked. "Presumably somewhere close by."
Bergur could obviously tell that Thora's interest was aroused and he took pleasure in drawing out his reply. "She moved over to Kreppa," he said eventually. "The farm belongs to the hotel, but it's deserted. She moved her stuff in there."
"I know the farm," Thora replied. "I've even been inside, but I saw no evidence that anyone had worked there recently," she said dubiously. "Do you know which room she used?"
"It was one of the upstairs rooms," he said, without elaborating.
"I see," she said, determined to revisit the farm at the first opportunity. Some of Birna's belongings must still be there, hopefully something that could shed light on her death, although that might be wishful thinking. "Tell me something," she said. "Do you know the history of the two farms, Kreppa and Kirkjustett?"
Bergur shook his head. "No," he said. "I'm from the West Fjords. I didn't move here until I was about twenty."
"You never heard mention of a fire at Kirkjustett?" she asked hopefully, although she knew it was unlikely.
"No, never," said Bergur. "Apparently the farms are still in their original condition, so there could only have been a fire there if it happened just after they were built and the damage was repaired immediately. I doubt that, though, because Birna was fascinated by those two farms and she never mentioned it to me."
"Did she discuss their history with you?" asked Thora. "And did she ever mention Nazis in connection with them?"
Bergur looked startled. "Actually, she did," he said. "We didn't talk about it much, but she once asked me if I knew anything about Nazis in the area sometime in the past. Of course I knew nothing, but when I asked her what she meant, she changed the subject and said it didn't matter. Odd that you should mention it too. I'd forgotten all about it."
"What about Kristin?" she asked. "Did she ever mention the name Kristin?"
Bergur gave a hollow laugh. "Show me the Icelander who's never spoken the name Kristin at some time in his life." He stopped smiling. "But no, I have no particular recollection of her mentioning that name."
"All right," Thora said. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you about Eirikur, the aura reader." Not waiting for his response, she went on, "Did you know each other?"
"No," Bergur replied. "I knew who he was. That was all. I never spoke to him."
"Can you tell me how you found his body?"
"Don't you want to see for yourselves?"
Thora and Matthew stood up and followed him back into the main part of the stables. Accustomed to the smell, Thora put on a brave face, but Matthew grimaced at her as they left the coffee room. They went up to one of the stalls, which had higher partitions than the others.
"He was in here," Bergur said, his face pale now. "The stallion was in the stall too, and it had trampled him to death. That's how it looked to me at least." He opened the gate to the stall. "The horse isn't in there now."
Thora peered in. There was not much to see now that the floor had been cleared. "Presumably the police have investigated the scene thoroughly?" she asked.
"Yes, they spent the whole night here,"
he replied. "It wasn't a pretty
sight."
"I bet it wasn't," Thora said. "What were you coming in here for?"
"I have to feed them," he answered brusquely. "Unfortunately."
"Unfortunately?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"
"I wish I'd never seen it. It was horrible," the farmer said frankly. "It was an awful sight. The fox, the needles, the blood . . . and that poor man."
"The fox?" Thora asked. "There was a fox in here?"
"Yes," he replied. "Tied to the man's chest. At first I thought it was a wig; then I realized. I stood here unable to move for ages. I just couldn't stop staring." He closed the gate to the stall.
"Why would anyone tie a fox to their chest, or to someone else's?" Thora speculated. "Do foxes have any special significance in this part of the country?"
"Not that I know of," Bergur replied. "I have no idea what it was supposed to mean. Perhaps it was just to make it worse for the poor guy. The smell of the fox was disgusting. It had been dead much longer than he had."
Thora nodded, deep in thought. She couldn't think of a logical explanation. "But what was that about needles? Had the man been injecting himself?" This might explain Thorolfur's bizarre questions about acupuncture and sewing sets.
Bergur frowned, clearly not enjoying the recollection. He swallowed loudly before speaking. "Pins had been stuck into the soles of his feet." He hesitated before adding, "The same had been done to Birna." He shuddered, then continued, "Whoever did that was some kind of monster."
