My Soul to Take: A Novel of Iceland (33 page)
"And if that's the case, someone would have profited from the child's death," said Matthew, "inheriting all Gudny's assets, which would have gone to the child. Who would it be, in this case?"
"The mother's closest relative," said Thora. "Grimur, Gudny's uncle and the child's great
-
uncle." She closed the book. "Lara, Soldis's grand-mother, said he had money troubles, so he could have killed her to prevent her reaching adulthood. As soon as the girl married or had a child of her own, Grimur would lose his claim to the inheritance."
"That's incredibly callous," said Matthew. "But he wasn't the one who put the rock there. His daughter, Malfridur, Elin and Borkur's mother, must have known of the body under there. It's no coincidence that she placed a stone with that inscription in that very location."
"Malfridur," said Thora thoughtfully. "Malfridur inherited what should have belonged to the child when her own father died years later in Reykjavik. If there is indeed a child, and if it's Gudny's."
"There are a lot of 'if"s in this story," commented Matthew, "but I have to admit it sounds plausible. Could she be the murderer, rather than her father, Grimur?"
"Hardly. She was just a little girl during the war. When Lara came back here after the war, Gudny's child had vanished from the face of the earth. It's a reasonable assumption that Gudny's daughter, Kristin, is the Kristin mentioned in the message scratched into the post upstairs. If so, it's more than likely that it was Malfridur who carved 'dad killed kristin. i hate dad' in the attic. It was in their house, after all. Perhaps she found out about it, or witnessed the murder, or maybe he even told her."
"You're probably getting close to solving this old case," said Matthew, going into the bathroom to wash the dirt from his hands. He called over the noise of the running water, "It's a pity it doesn't help Jonas. I don't suppose this is why Birna and Eirikur were killed?"
"Well, I don't know," Thora called back. "Maybe Birna found out about it and that led to someone wanting her dead—someone who didn't want the truth to come out. She was going through that old stuff, as we know from the photo of Magnus. Maybe she'd found something that gave her a clue."
Matthew appeared in the doorway with a towel and dried his hands. "But who would want her dead because of it? Elin and Borkur?"
"Unlikely," said Thora. "They would scarcely have sold the property if they'd been desperate to keep the secret."
"Maybe they knew nothing about it," said Matthew, putting the towel back in the bathroom. "Birna may have told them about it and tried to blackmail them. She seems to have already tried to blackmail Magnus and Baldvin, so we know she was capable of it."
"Maybe," said Thora, "but I have a feeling she didn't know. From her diary I'd say she suspected something odd had been going on in the house, but there's no indication she was on the right track." She fetched the journal and slowly turned the pages. "Do you remember where the annex was located in the plans on the walls at Kreppa?" she asked. "Did it include the area of the rock and the hatch?"
Matthew tried to visualize the sketch. "I think it did," he said. "Why do you ask?"
"Could Birna have been killed to stop the design of the annex to the hotel?' Thora speculated. "As soon as construction work began, the hidden part of the basement would have been excavated. Perhaps it was preventive action. Someone had been digging here and there in the field, remember. Maybe they were trying to find the hatch, and the child's remains, before construction began, but they couldn't find them and resorted to the desperate measure of killing Birna."
"Which brings us back to the question of who would want to keep it a secret," said Matthew. "The last thing Elin and Borkur would want was for the truth to come out. Nobody wants unnecessary attention drawn to the fact that their grandfather was a child killer, but it'd hardly be normal to commit murder to conceal it."
"If they'd wanted to keep it secret, though, they'd never have sold the land," Thora reminded him. "And I quite agree: it's a bit extreme to kill someone just to avoid a scandal." She closed her eyes. "I'm missing something. It's something really obvious, but I can't put my finger on it." She reached for the police file and flicked through it. "I don't even know what I'm looking for." She sighed.
Matthew came up to the bedside table and picked up the list of cars that had driven through the Hvalfjordur Tunnel. "What if the killer isn't directly involved? What if it's s
omeone who wants to protect the
family?"
Thora looked up from the file and tilted her head curiously. "Who do you mean?"
Matthew handed her the list and pointed out one of the registration numbers. "While you were out this morning, I asked Soldis if she knew Steini's full name. Since he can drive, it occurred to me to check whether he was on the list, and he was." He pointed out the entry that a car had been driven through the tunnel from the Reykjavik direction: owner Thorsteinn Kjartansson. "You remember he said he couldn't give Soldis a lift because he wasn't going to Reykjavik," Matthew added, "but he did go, and he appears to have driven back here via the tunnel about an hour before Birna was murdered."
"What, you think he killed her so that Berta wouldn't be traumatized by the scandal?" asked Thora. "That's ridiculous. And he's disabled. Would he have been capable of that?"
"I feel like we keep on hearing things that prove he's less handicapped than we thought," said Matthew. "If you look at the other list, the vehicles driving through the tunnel from here toward Reykjavik, you'll see that Berta's car left here at about the same time. Maybe Steini wanted to ensure she wouldn't be a suspect, which is why he carried out the murder in her absence. There wouldn't be much point in killing Birna and Eirikur, and getting Berta into even more trouble than he was trying to prevent."
Thora frowned. "Even if he's less disabled than we realized, I somehow can't see him manhandling someone into a stall with a wild horse."
"What if Eirikur wasn't quite unconscious?" said Matthew. "Maybe the drugs just made him confused—confused enough to do as Steini said. Perhaps he was taking his revenge for the accident by planting Eirikur in Bergur and Rosa's stables—revenge for her father causing the accident. He may have assumed Bergur or his wife would be suspects. He needn't have been motivated only by wanting to protect Berta."
Thora nodded, deep in thought. "But what about the rape?" she asked. "Steini would also have had to rape Birna, and she wasn't drugged." She looked up the autopsy report. "The theory is that she was attacked from behind and hit on the head with a rock." She read a little further. "You don't happen to know what
A. barbadensis Mill, A. vulgaris Lam
is?" she asked when she came across the reference to the substance found in Birna's vagina.
"I can't say I do." Matthew smiled ruefully. "I think
'vulgaris'
means 'common,' but that's not much help. Can't you find it on the Internet?"
"Yes, I'm sure I can," said Thora. "I just haven't had time. Perhaps I'll ask Gylfi to look it up for me. It'll do him good to think about something else, after the shock of finding the bones." She phoned Gylfi's room and asked him to look it up on the guests' computer in reception. "He says he'll do it in a minute," said Thora, hanging up. She looked over at Matthew and smiled. "When children reach the age of twelve, they stop being able to do things when they're asked. It always has to be in a minute. My dad says I was just the same, and that Grandpa said the same about him. Maybe it's genetic."
"Shall we try to get hold of Steini, or even Berta?" asked Matthew. "She might be able to tell us something to corroborate my theory. Although she's his friend, I'm not sure she'd cover for him under these circumstances."
"You may be right," said Thora, and went to stand up. "Let's do it. You broke down a wall for me. The least I can do is repay you by investigating your crazy theory as well as mine."
"You could always find another way to repay me," said Matthew with a smile.
Thora didn't answer. She stood with the book of folktales open in her hands. "Hang on," she said excitedly. "What's this?"
THORA STUBBE
D Her
finger at the page. Matthew looked at it, understanding nothing. "Right here, on the page before the story of the abandoned infant at the wedding, it says that if you want to stop someone's spirit walking, you must drive needles into the soles of his feet." She slammed the book shut. "The murderer must have wanted to ensure that his victims' ghosts wouldn't go wandering."
Matthew looked skeptical. "What on earth for?"
"We might not get it, but presumably he believes in ghosts," said Thora, blushing slightly as she recalled the wailing she had heard, like an infant left to die. She had stuck to her resolution not to mention it to anyone, least of all Matthew.
"Why are you blushing?" he asked. "Starting to believe in ghosts in your old age?" He prodded her arm. "Did you hear it too?"
Thora was no good at lying to people she cared about, so she decided to confess. "Yes, I heard something," she conceded. "Of course, it wasn't the ghost of an abandoned infant, but I did hear crying and it sounded like a baby."
"That's great!" said Matthew, pleased. "Now, you have been careful about letting the baby go around you three times, haven't you? You don't seem any more insane than usual, anyway."
Thora stuck her tongue out at him. "Come on," she said, "we've got more important things to do than talk about ghosts. Let's go and find Berta or Steini."
"You must try to send the ghost baby back to its mother," Matthew persisted. "That's what you're meant to do . . ."
THORA COULDN'T WAIT TO GET OUT OF THE RECEPTION AREA
. A
scorched smell hung about the place from the charred carcasses that had been carried through the building. She would have liked to pinch her nose as she went past Vigdis, but decided to just hold her breath and keep walking. As she hurried past, she bumped into Throstur Laufeyjarson.
"Oh, sorry," she said, trying to regain her balance. "I didn't see you."
"That's all right," said the canoeist grumpily. He was wearing a wet suit, his hair wet. "No harm done—shame I can't say the same for my canoe," he added.
"Oh?" asked Thora. "Has it been damaged?" When she saw Throstur's fierce expression, she involuntarily blurted, "I haven't touched it."
"No, I know," said Throstur, continuing on his way.
"Hang on, I wanted to ask you something," said Thora, grabbing his arm. She was startled to realize how muscular he was. "I've been trying to find you, but you're hard to get hold of."
"What do you want to ask?" he said. She let go of his arm, not wanting to push her luck. "Whether I've ever got stuck with my head underwater when I've been out in the canoe?"
"Er, no," replied Thora, baffled. "That had never occurred to me. No, my question is about the two murders that have been committed here. You must have heard about them."
Throstur's expression was a strange mixture of irritation and apprehension. The hotel doors opened and he caught sight of the pile of bones that was being carried past. "What's going on there?"
"Quite a lot," said Thora. "None of it good. Have you got time to talk? It could be important." She hoped the sight of the bones would sway him.
"Yes, all right," he replied abruptly. "I was on my way to talk to the police, anyway. Since my canoe's damaged, there's no reason to keep quiet anymore."
"About what?" asked Thora, directing him to a table outside. They sat down, and Thora introduced Matthew. "What were you going to tell the police?"
Throstur looked grave. "On Friday morning, I went out to train and found my canoe all covered in blood." He checked himself. "Well, not exactly
covered.
There was blood on the paddle and the seat, and splashes here and there. It wasn't my blood, and I assumed it must have something to do with the murder committed on Thursday evening."
Thora stared at him. "It's Tuesday today," she said. "Why on earth haven't you said anything before?"
"I didn't know anything about the murder until Saturday, when some woman in reception told me, and I'd cleaned most of it off by then," said Throstur impatiently.
"So there's still some blood left?" asked Thora hopefully. Perhaps the murderer's fingerprints could be preserved.
"Er, no, there isn't," muttered Throstur sheepishly, adding by way of mitigation, "I'm due to compete in the world championships in two weeks' time. I couldn't have my canoe being taken off to some lab, so I cleaned the rest off and decided to keep my mouth shut. The damage had been done, because I'd already removed most of the blood."
Thora didn't envy him; he'd have to confess all to Thorolfur. "But what made you change your mind?" she asked.
"Whatever idiot did it must have run the canoe up on to some rocks and damaged the bottom. I couldn't understand why my times were so bad, but I only just noticed the damage. The bottom was fine when I checked it last week, so it's that bloody killer who's caused me all this trouble." He leaned back and crossed his arms. "The police may as well take the canoe. I won't be able to compete now."
Clearly what upset Throstur most about the case was that the murderer had damaged his canoe.
"I'm not sure you understand," said Thora, "that if you'd come forward with the information about the canoe at once, on Saturday, it might have been possible to prevent the murder that took place on Sunday evening."
"Hardly!" Throstur argued. "There wasn't much blood left—I told you." He looked to Matthew for support, then tried to change the subject. "I'm definitely going to sue the murderer when he's discovered and get compensation for the damage. I was on course for a medal."
"It's a tragedy," said Thora, striving unsuccessfully to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "One more question. You drove through the Hvalfjordur Tunnel on Sunday evening, didn't you?"
"Yes," snapped Throstur. "I ran out of my protein supplement and I had to get to a decent pharmacy." He glared defiantly at Thora. "Don't you believe me? I've got the receipt, from a pharmacy in the city."
"What? Oh, yes," said Thora absently. She was thinking of something else: the fact that they could no longer rule out the people who had been at the seance, or any hotel staff who were in the vicinity. "How long does it take to paddle from here out to the inlet where the architect was killed?" she asked.
"No time at all," he replied. "It's a very short distance by sea. You don't have to follow all the twists and turns of the overland route. It would take me about five minutes if the sea was calm. Someone not used to a canoe might take ten minutes."
"Can a first
-
timer paddle one fairly easily?" asked Matthew, who until then had just been listening.
"Yes, unless they're really inept," said Throstur. "You need practice to paddle a canoe well, but to go from A to B in calm water you don't need any expertise, just strength." He stood up. "I'd better take a shower before I go and see the police. I want my case taken seriously because I'm not kidding about this." He pushed the heavy wooden chair up to the table and turned away. Then he suddenly recalled something and turned back. "Also, that lad in the car is sure to remember me," he said. "He should be easy enough to trace."
"What lad? Who do you mean?" asked Thora.
"When I drove out of the tunnel toward Reykjavik, I saw a car stopped at the side of the road. I thought it had broken down. I pulled over to offer the driver a lift, but it was a terribly disfigured boy, who said he wasn't going anywhere, that he was just going to sit in the car for a bit and everything was fine. Then he wound up his window and refused to speak to me."
"What time was this?" asked Matthew.
"About six, I think," replied Throstur. "He was gone when I got back later that evening. He probably got fed up with reassuring people that he was okay. I can't have been the only one who thought he'd broken down. Another car was pulling up as I left," he added, then turned and went into the hotel.
Matthew nudged Thora's leg under the table. "I think Steini followed Berta through the tunnel to make sure she was definitely gone, then pulled over and watched her drive away before turning back to finish off Eirikur. Throstur must have turned up while he was waiting. It all fits."
"It's a bit tenuous," said Thora. "If he was at the tunnel at six, he still had to drive all the way up here, which is a fair distance."
"We don't know Eirikur's time of death with any accuracy," said Matthew. "They said 'dinnertime.' People eat their dinners at all sorts of times." He stood up. "I'm just going to get the list. I want to see when he drove south. I wasn't looking for that when I found his name."
Thora couldn't bear the idea of going through the reeking lobby again, so she decided to wait outside. Matthew soon came hurrying back with the sheaf of papers. "He went through the tunnel toward Reykjavik five cars after Berta. It all fits my theory. He must have wanted to be sure she was gone." He slapped the papers down on the table in front of Thora. "I think we have to speak to her, in case she knows something that may complete the jigsaw."
"Even if she knows something, we have to hope she's willing to share it with us," said Thora, standing up. "We can't be sure she'll give him up, even when she realizes what he's done. Let's not expect her to jump for joy when we tell her that her friend and relative may be a murderer. It may take longer for her to realize fully what a terrible thing he did." She frowned. "If he
did
do anything. I'm far from sure."
Thora clapped her hand to her forehead. “Now I know what it
is that's been bothering me," she said. "It's the order of inheritance. If the child outlived her mother and grandfather, all the assets are in completely the wrong hands. Of course Grimur wouldn't have inherited from the child." They were sitting in the car in the drive outside Kreppa, where they had hoped to find Berta. There was no sign of her car, and the house was deserted.
"What do you mean?" asked Matthew. "Wasn't he next of kin, once the mother and grandfather were dead?"
Thora shook her head. "It was the father, of course. The child's father would have inherited everything upon her death."
"And that's probably Magnus," he said. "I hadn't thought of that. Grimur should never have inherited anything, of course. That's why he hid the girl and tried to destroy any information about her life, what there was of it."
Thora gasped. "What's more, if his daughter Malfridur knew about the murder, her inheritance was unlawful too."
"Doesn't that go without saying?" asked Matthew. "If her father got the inheritance fraudulently, he isn't entitled to it, so neither is she."
"I'm not absolutely sure, but I think the case is different if she knew nothing about the crime. If my theory's right, she did know, and what's more, she's still alive. Her children had power of attorney to sign on her behalf when the land was sold to Jonas. They haven't formally inherited anything, so whether they knew is irrelevant. The power of attorney stated that their mother was in charge of the parental estate, which hasn't been through probate, so the question of complicity wouldn't apply to them."
"They've got a lot to lose," said Matthew, "and there's a lot to gain for the child's father, Magnus."
"Yes, it's pretty clear that he wouldn't have gained much by killing Birna to prevent the child being discovered. Quite the contrary." Thora gazed at the old farmhouse through the windshield. "But it's a different story for Elin and her family. Berta, for instance, wouldn't have a place to stay here in the west. The house in Stykkisholmur belonged to Bjarni after Grimur got into financial difficulties, and his farm too. If Berta had no home here, Steini would have a pretty lonely life." She looked at Matthew. "Shouldn't we speak to him in person?" she said. "We've no idea when and where we'll catch up with Berta. Soldis must know where he lives, so that shouldn't be a problem."
"But what about Thorolfur?" asked Matthew. "Shouldn't we let him know, or even get him to go instead?"
Thora thought for a moment. "No, no. It's like with the wall. We have to be sure we're right before we inconvenience the police, and they've got their hands full at the moment."
MATTHEW AND THORA STOOD WAITING
AT STEINI'S. HE'D CALLED
out that he was just coming, but they had been waiting a while.
"He's not very fit—it's taking him ages," said Matthew, pulling his jacket closer around him. The temperature had dropped suddenly, and the air was damp, so they were chilled to the bone. "Brr. Are you sure it's June?"
Before Thora could answer, the door was opened, but only halfway. "What?" they heard, from beneath the familiar hoodie.
"Hello," said Thora as warmly as she could manage. "Do you remember us? We came out to Kreppa yesterday and met you with Berta, and we met down at the inlet too."
"Yeah, so, what do you want?" Steini's voice was so muffled that he sounded like he was talking with his mouth full. Thora suspected this was because he found it hard to open his mouth. She hoped it wasn't painful for him to speak. Whatever he had or hadn't done, she felt truly sorry for him.
"We wanted to speak to you," said Thora, hoping he would agree to let them in. "It's about Sunday evening."
The wheelchair backed away and the door opened wider. "Come in," he mumbled. Because of his impediment, it was impossible to tell whether he was worried at the prospect of speaking to them. Thora and Matthew exchanged discreet glances as they entered, but said nothing.
