The same went for Klara, Markus’s mother – according to Alda’s mother, she had known about the murders. It would, however, be difficult to prove this unless she confessed, and Thóra doubted she would. Klara seemed to have a heart of stone, and with her son Leifur backing her up it was unlikely that she could be made to admit what she knew. Luckily, that was not Thóra’s problem. She had had more than enough of this case, with all its corpses.
In the end, though, the question remained: who had murdered Alda? This was the main reason for the police’s reluctance to release Markus, despite their previous declaration that he was no longer a suspect in the case. Thóra hadn’t expected them to jump for joy at her revelations, but she was disappointed at how forcefully they objected to his release. They were forced to admit that Markus had in all likelihood never been near the men in the basement. How Alda had ended up with her attacker’s head in a box would no doubt be explained later, but it had nothing to do with Markus. The unwillingness of the police to admit that Markus was no longer a suspect in Alda’s murder was fairly understandable; there wasn’t any other suspect, so it was no small matter to admit they had the wrong man in custody. Thóra could feel that the unpleasant sensation in her head, which had started in the church as a faint nagging pain, was getting worse.
‘Couldn’t the woman simply have committed suicide?’ she asked. ‘Is there something that clearly suggests she was murdered? Her psychological state can’t have been good.’
Stefán looked up from the report he’d been going over and frowned. ‘The autopsy proved that she was murdered,’ he said. ‘So I have to reject such speculation.’
Thóra sighed deeply. ‘One of the plastic surgeons Alda worked for contacted me about information that she wanted to give to the police. I understood her to mean that the information concerned Alda and was important for the investigation. Could some of what she had to convey shed light on the case?’ She had to pause in her questioning to raise a hand to her forehead and rub it. This dulled the pain, but the headache returned as soon as she dropped her hand. ‘Is there any new information I ought to be made aware of? I think I have the right to know, since you’re starting to direct your attention back towards my client in the case of Alda’s death.’
‘What Alda’s colleague told us changes nothing for Markus,’ said Stefán. ‘We were given information that might be significant, but at this point we can’t say whether it’s positive or negative for him.’
‘Is it possible that Alda’s murderer has ties to her work? The drug used to kill her suggests this quite strongly.’
‘Not any more,’said Stefán calmly. ‘Whoever killed her didn’t need to have access to it.’
Thóra gave him an appraising look and cursed her headache under her breath. She was finding it harder and harder to concentrate. The police appeared to have discovered something about the drug that suggested it had already been in Alda’s home. Dís must have explained this to them. She settled for saying ‘I see,’ since it was clear they weren’t going to tell her anything more at this point. ‘The other thing I want to ask is whether you’re planning to speak to the victim in the rape case involving Alda’s son. She could conceivably have wished Alda harm, since she could hardly have been pleased when Alda suddenly switched sides.’
The police lawyer puffed himself up. He was wearing a dark suit that had no doubt cost a pretty penny, and seemed more than ready to appear in the district court. A wide gold ring on his left hand glittered, and Thóra was sure he had polished it specially. She, however, had not had much time to get ready, and if the police didn’t drop their request for a custody extension she would have to stop by her office where she kept a white shirt, dark trousers and comfortable high heels for just such an emergency. It didn’t look very good to turn up in court dressed like a tramp, and jeans and a T-shirt hardly sufficed, even though her lawyer’s gown covered most of her. At least she didn’t have to polish a wedding ring.
‘I feel it only right that I point out to you that it is not your role to assist us in the investigation,’intoned the lawyer. ‘We are more than capable of doing our job. You should concentrate on what concerns your client.’
‘And you think it doesn’t serve his interests to find out who really killed Alda?’ retorted Thóra. Her cheeks flushed, and her headache was worsening. She felt most of her anger drain away as she realized that if she were him she wouldn’t have been pleased to think she had dressed up and polished her jewellery for nothing. She placed her hands on her knees and prepared to stand up. ‘Can you tell me whether you’re going to request a custody extension? If you are, I need time to get ready.’
Stefán turned to his colleague and asked him, ‘Shouldn’t we speak privately?’ He looked back at Thóra. ‘I think we’ve got all the information you could provide,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘This shouldn’t take long. You can have a cup of coffee outside.’
The healing power of the coffee left much to be desired. Thóra had swilled down two strong cups without her pain decreasing. She looked at the clock; just after one. Markus would be on his way into town from Litla-Hraun Prison in the company of the Prison Affairs Transport Officer, so it was not a good time to phone him. But she ought to let Markus’s son know that his father might be released without the need for a court ruling. That would save the boy a trip to the district court.
Her conversation with him did not have the effect Thóra was hoping for. He was so beside himself at the news and chattered at her so frantically that it almost made her dizzy. She finally resorted to telling him that someone needed her urgently and she had to hang up. She could no longer endure his noise. If everything went for the best, hopefully Markus would be there for him very shortly. She promised to let him know as soon as it became clear.
Twenty minutes later Stefán came out of his office. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.
‘We’ve made our decision,’he said.
‘And?’ said Thóra, crossing her fingers. The last thing she needed was to go to court.‘What’s your conclusion?’
‘We’re not going to ask for an extension of Markus’s detention period, but we will request a travel ban,’ said Stefán. He wouldn’t look her in the eye.
‘A travel ban?’ asked Thóra calmly. Of two evils, a travel ban was a thousand times better than custody, but at the same time the judge was much more likely to approve it. There was something underhand about their plan. Release Markus, yet detain him at the same time. She stood up. ‘I’d better go and get changed,’ she said, forcing out a smile. ‘See you later.’
How much could she find out about travel bans in a quarter of an hour?
‘I don’t give a shit about this travel ban, Thóra, they don’t even have to discuss it,’ said Markus triumphantly. ‘I’m not much of a globe-trotter and even if I was I’m not planning to leave the country any time soon. I’m just thrilled to be out of prison. That’s enough for me.’ He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘A thousand thanks, and forgive me for any disrespect I showed you. I wasn’t myself.’