‘Do you think he’s still in charge of the case?’ asked Markus hopefully. ‘I could always phone him myself.’
‘No, absolutely not,’ Thóra said quickly. ‘I don’t want you speaking to him on your own. God only knows how that would end. I’ll talk to him. Even though the police in Reykjavik are involved in the investigation, they’ll certainly keep him informed of any developments. It’s his home ground.’
‘Shouldn’t I keep trying to get hold of Alda in the meantime?’ said Markus.
‘You should forget about that,’replied Thóra firmly. She thought for a moment, thenasked: ‘When did you last speak to her?’
‘I spoke to her briefly by phone the evening before last,’ answered Markus. ‘The night before we went to the Islands. I told her that I was finally going to be allowed into the house.’
‘I see,’ said Thóra.‘One final question before I phone Inspector Leifsson: do you think that Alda knew about these three corpses, or played any part in their deaths or the death of whoever owned the head?’ Thóra wasn’t sure she’d ever asked a more ridiculous question.
‘There’s no way,’ said Markus. ‘We’re the same age – making her fifteen in the year of the eruption. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Neither then nor now. So she could hardly have expected that I’d stumble onto three corpses as well as the box in the basement. If she’d known about the bodies or been connected to them in any way I’m sure she would have pushed me even harder to have the excavation stopped. Warned me, at the very least.’
‘Yes, one would have thought so,’Thóra said thoughtfully. ‘It’s just a bit of a coincidence that a box with a severed head and three corpses should be found in the same place.’
‘Well, stranger things have happened,’ said Markus, seemingly insulted.
‘Are you sure?’ Thóra retorted. She could think of nothing even remotely as bizarre. They said goodbye and she went to get herself a cup of coffee. She could use a bit of refreshment before phoning Inspector Leifsson.
Gudni Leifsson turned off his torch as he went down into the basement. The lights that the Reykjavik CID had set up there were pointed at the area where the bodies had been found, but were strong enough to light the entire basement space. He went over to the man leading the investigation, a discomfortingly young man who had introduced himself as Stefán when the gang of police from Reykjavik had disembarked from the little plane late yesterday evening. It was obviously time to retire. It was happening far too frequently that he met colleagues who had still been in their mothers’ wombs when he himself had started his career. Gudni stared straight ahead. ‘What do you think?’ he asked calmly, without wasting words on pleasantries or even looking at his colleague.
Stefán turned around to see who had addressed him. His expression immediately changed to one of irritation, which confirmed what Gudni already knew: the policemen from Reykjavik wanted the country yokels to leave them alone to investigate the scene in peace. This Stefán had scarcely deigned to listen to Gudni’s account of recent developments as they were driving to the house yesterday evening along with several nameless, even younger men. These accompanying officers had not spoken a word the entire time, as far as Gudni had been aware.‘Isn’t it a little better than it looked at first?’ he asked now, not letting the young man’s irritation troublehim.
‘We don’t know anything yet,’ Stefán replied, turning away from Gudni to watch the men working. ‘How could this possibly be better than it looked?’
‘Well,’ said Gudni calmly,‘I just wondered whether these might be the earthly remains of some unlucky thieves who got trapped here in the eruption and suffocated. People who had perhaps intended to take advantage of the emergency situation and do their looting undisturbed. This house wasn’t buried under the ash the first night, so unscrupulous individuals would have had time to come here from elsewhere and make a clean sweep of the neighbourhood. The eruption made worldwide headlines at the time.’
Stefán stared at Gudni. ‘You can’t be serious,’ he said, pointing at the three corpses where they lay, side by side, on their backs. ‘How do you see that happening? The air became so bad that the burglars ran down to the basement to lie down and take a breather? They could hardly have thought that there were any valuables down here.’ He turned back to his subordinates’ work.‘People who suffocate are generally found lying on their stomachs, unless they were sleeping when it happened. They try to crawl away. They don’t lie down nicely in a row, any more than their heads fly off their shoulders.’He pointed at the place where the head had lain, but it had already been removed from the scene.
‘You’ll discover one day that there are no absolutes in this life,’ Gudni replied, perfectly unperturbed. This wasn’t the first big city upstart he’d sparred with. ‘Otherwise, hopefully this Alda has an explanation, at least as far as the head is concerned. Have you spoken to her?’
‘As far as I know, no one’s been able to get in touch with her,’ replied Stefán, without looking at Gudni. ‘We’re going to keep trying, and hopefully we’ll reach her today. Then I’ll have a better talk with this Markus Magnusson, who came here to pick up the bonce.’
‘The head, I expect you mean,’corrected Gudni. ‘We’re talking about a human head here – not a“bonce”.’
Stefán shot Gudni a look that was anything but pleasant. ‘Head, bonce, noggin – what difference does it make? I very much doubt that this Markus has told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth about what happened here. I find his statement in the report both untrustworthy and ridiculous.’
‘That’s because he’s an imbecile,’ Gudni replied. ‘Always has been.’ He switched on his torch and turned towards the stairs, without saying goodbye.
Dís honked the car horn and pulled herself up over the steering wheel to look out through the windscreen. The little end terrace appeared to be empty. She leaned back again in her seat. What was Alda thinking? She hadn’t come to work for two days in a row. There was nothing too mysterious about that, anyone could catch the flu, but it was unlike her not to call in and let people know, or to answer messages. Alda was conscientiousness personified; she always came to work on time, and was always willing to work late if necessary. In a nurse this was a rare quality, and Dís knew that without Alda she and Agúst would have it much tougher at work. They paid her well, and up until yesterday her work record had been spotless. So they couldn’t understand at all why she hadn’t called in to let them know that she couldn’t make it yesterday morning, especially since four operations It had been scheduled. Dís and Agúst, both doctors, had had to assist each other, performing the operations together instead of taking them separately with Alda’s assistance, because of this they’d had to cancel a number of patient consultations, and even the anaesthetist they’d called in had had to help out, which was bad for their reputation. No, there was something very peculiar about this, so Dís had decided to make a quick trip to Alda’s house during her lunch break, to see if she was home. She looked out again through the glass and wondered whether something could have happened to the woman. Alda was single and childless, so it was entirely possible that she had passed out at home without anyone knowing. Dís got out of the car.
She walked up to the garage that connected Alda’s terrace house to the next one and peered in through a gap in the brown-lacquered door. She thought she saw a reflection from Alda’s new green Toyota, but could not see it clearly enough to be sure. Nevertheless, this was a bad omen. Alda could hardly have got very far without her car, and if she was at home it was extremely odd that she hadn’t contacted anyone. Dís went to the front door of the house. The sound of the doorbell came from within as she rang it repeatedly. She stopped pushing it and put her ear to the door in the hope of hearing Alda, but could not make out any audible sign of human activity. Still, she was fairly certain that she could hear a radio. She pressed her ear even closer to the door and covered the other one. Yes, yes. She could even hear the tune. It was an old cheesy pop song, about a boy calling out to his father. Dís straightened up and knitted her brow. It occurred to her how strange it was that even after working with Alda for seven years, she had no clue as to what sort of music she liked. Somehow it had never come up in conversation. She grabbed the doorknob and tried the door. It was unlocked.