Markus joined in energetically and grinned at Thóra as widely as his older brother. His travel ban would soon expire, and there was no imminent prospect of it being renewed. He flung his arm around the person sitting next to him and hugged him tight. This was a young man who appeared to be dressed as a garden gnome – the only one inside the packed tent wearing a costume, although these had been a common sight in the throng outside where the crowd was younger. He was wearing a red conical hat, which stood at least half a metre high, a fake white beard and a white wig. It was Hjalti, Markus’s son. Unlike the others in the tent he did not seem to be enjoying himself much. Thóra could feel him staring at her from under his bizarre hat, but he looked away when their eyes met. She thought perhaps he was embarrassed by his emotional reunion with his father the day that Markus was released from custody, which Thóra had witnessed. Out of respect for this, she avoided looking too much in his direction. This was easier said than done, since Markus was constantly shouting out to her. One of the things he needed to tell her was that he had now signed off on an apartment in the Islands for his son. A shout was raised for a toast to Hjalti, who looked positively queasy throughout. Finally Thóra herself felt unwell, and she decided to take the kids outside for a while. It was still quite bright outside, and despite the crowds in the tent Leifur had happily offered to store Thóra’s covered pushchair. The ground in Herjolfsdalur was far too soft to use it.
Thóra stood and picked Orri back up. He spread out his arms, leaned into her and laid his chin on her shoulder. He was so affectionate that it occasionally worried Thóra, who feared he would have to spend his whole life comforting others. She pushed these thoughts away and tried to attain the carefree joy that seemed to characterize everything and everyone in the valley. Thóra didn’t know why she felt so out of sorts, and hoped it wasn’t because of the phone call from Bella that morning. The secretary had dreamt about Thóra and found herself compelled to call and tell her boss about the dream. In it Thóra was surrounded by ash, which came out of her ears and mouth, and according to the dream analysis website Bella swore by, ash always symbolized bad luck. It could be an omen of a lawsuit, trouble or adversity. Thóra had a sneaking feeling that if the dream had been given a positive interpretation, Bella would not have called.
She said goodbye to her secretary after telling her she didn’t believe in that nonsense, and that Bella shouldn’t either. Afterwards, however, Thóra didn’t feel that convinced. She blamed it on a nagging feeling she had had ever since Markus’s case was closed. Alda’s murderer was still on the loose, and Thóra hated unsolved cases. She had followed the media closely, but according to them the investigation appeared to have run aground.
Thóra found it odd to think that in her pursuit of leads for Markus, she had probably met the murderer. In her mind many people were suspects, some more likely than others. Highest on her list were Adolf, Halldora Dogg and the plastic surgeon Dís. She hadn’t met Dís’s colleague Agúst, so couldn’t gauge the likelihood of his involvement.
But this was a festival; people were supposed to enjoy themselves, not wonder about things they couldn’t change. Thóra forced a smile.
‘Shall we go for a wander?’ she asked her daughter. ‘You should show off your nose a bit.’
‘I want to visit a tent, like before,’ said Sóley. The hair- band, which was much too large, had slipped down over her forehead. ‘They’re so cool.’
‘We can’t just drop in anywhere, but we’ll walk around and have a look at them,’ said Thóra.‘There are so many of them and we’ve seen only a small part of the grounds.’ They walked in the direction of the furthest row of tents facing the slope. ‘Maybe we’ll see Gylfi and Sigga,’Thóra said, as she looked hopelessly over the crowd of people on the hillside.
They had come to the tent right at the end. No sound came from it, neither talking nor singing, unlike the other tents.‘Can I look in, Mum?’ implored Sóley. ‘Just a peek?’
Thóra nodded, since she couldn’t see that it would do any harm. People appeared to be wandering around and peering into tents without anyone thinking it the least bit unnatural. Most of these people were residents of the Islands or had moved away, and were looking for friends or acquaintances. Sóley pulled the white canvas flap wide open, forgetting she had promised ‘just a peek’. This tent was much smaller than Markus and Leifur’s, which had been two tents joined together. Nor was it as richly furnished: it had one lopsided sofa and two kitchen stools. On one of them sat Alda’s sister Jóhanna, with a heaped platter of flatbread and smoked lamb in front of her. Cling film still covered everything. Jóhanna stared at Sóley then looked past her at Thóra, whom she recognized immediately. ‘Oh, come in,’ she said, looking pleased. She stood up and beckoned them in. ‘I’ve got plenty of everything.’ The last sentence sounded even more desperate than the first. Thóra accepted the offer.
‘It’s really nice to see you,’ said Jóhanna, as she removed the cling film from the flatbread. ‘What would the kids like?’ she asked, and started to rattle off all the different types of food in the tent.
After Sóley got her Prince Polo chocolate and a glass of fizzy orange, Thóra accepted a piece of flatbread, even though she was far from hungry. She gave Orri another piece to nibble at, though the child had also had enough to eat. She couldn’t let the woman go home with her platter of food untouched. ‘Has anything happened in Alda’s case?’ asked Thóra after swallowing, more to break the ice than to satisfy her own curiosity. She knew nothing about Jóhanna, and this was the only thing they had in common.
‘Well, I don’t know what to tell you,’ said Jóhanna. ‘A lot of leads turned up, but none of them seems to point to her murderer.’
Thóra nodded and took another bite.‘I know one of the doctors Alda worked with came forward with information that I had hoped would help.’ Thóra hadn’t tried to persuade Bragi to tell her what it was about, though she had often been on the verge of doing so.
Jóhanna held the plate out to Sóley in case she wanted some flatbread to go with her other snacks.‘Yes, yes,’ she replied, putting it down when the girl declined a slice. ‘That woman handed over the drug, you know, the Botox, which had been used to…’ Jóhanna stopped and looked at Sóley. ‘… well, you know. She had taken it from Alda’s bedside table when she found her… you know… I understand that she hadn’t wanted her office to become involved in the case, and she thought that Alda had committed… you know.’
‘Was it possible to trace where the Botox came from, and perhaps find some fingerprints on the bottle?’ asked Thóra, managing to phrase her question without saying you know.
‘They only found Alda’s fingerprints. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, because the one who… you know… could have used gloves. They found traces of latex powder, I understand,’ said Jóhanna, furrowing her brow slightly. ‘However, they were able to trace where the Botox came from. The other doctor, Agúst is his name, had bought it. I’m not sure whether they’re telling the truth. Alda isn’t here any longer to defend herself, and it would be easy for them to make up anything. He says he and Alda had a kind of agreement: she got an unlimited supply of the substance and could do with it whatever she wanted. In return, she used her position at the A &E to put him in touch with patients.’
‘What?’ asked Thóra.‘I’m not sure I understand you.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Jóhanna. ‘As I was saying, we’ve only got Agúst’s word on this. He says that Alda sifted out the patients with facial injuries, or who had been wounded or scarred in some other way that might require a plastic surgeon’s help. She was supposed to recommend that they have their scars – or nose, or whatever part it was – fixed, and then give them Agúst’s business card. Many of the patients would have been drunk or in shock, and thought that they were being ordered to go to another doctor – that this was a follow-up treatment after the initial examination in the A &E. So they flocked to Agúst’s office.’