‘And was it not possible to check out this story?’ asked Thóra. The police would hardly let such a vague report go uninvestigated.
‘Yes, Alda and Agúst did in fact exchange a number of email messages. Dís passed them on to the police, along with the Botox. The messages proved this was going on. Apparently there was also a rumour about it going round the A &E, but as everyone knows it’s not that hard to forge an email, and workplace gossip has never been considered a trustworthy source.’
Thóra nodded, even though she had no idea how to send a fake email. Nor did it seem likely that Dís would be able to do so. The A &E gossip mentioned by Jóhanna must have been what Hannes had hinted at but refused to discuss. ‘Why did Alda need Botox?’ asked Thóra.‘Couldn’t she get them to give her injections for free?’
‘She supposedly invited friends and acquaintances home and gave them injections for a fee, but much lower than at the plastic surgeon’s, and naturally it was far less trouble for people,’ said Jóhanna, and she shook her head.‘They’re saying Alda was getting a fair bit of extra income from this.’
‘Is that right? Do you believe she did this?’
‘No, I can’t imagine it. It’s one thing to tell your sister she can come and get Botox, and quite another for every old bag in town to be queuing up at her door.’
There was no need to discuss this any further. Jóhanna had thought that she was the only one receiving this service, and the same probably went for all the other women. ‘Has anyone come up with an explanation for why one of the men in the basement was… you know…’ Thóra looked out of the corner of her eye at Sóley, who was intently folding up the wrapper of her chocolate bar. She drew her index finger across her throat.
Jóhanna shook her head.‘DNA tests have shown that Adolf is not the son of the man whose head was cut off,’ she said. ‘His father was one of the men in the basement who was… whole.’ Thóra grimaced. Had Alda dismembered the wrong man? She dared not speak her thoughts aloud for fear Jóhanna would clam up. She would never accept that Alda had had anything to do with it.‘He’s put in a claim for Alda’s estate, and Mother and I have been told that it will probably be approved. So it won’t fall to us,’ said Jóhanna, who appeared completely unperturbed. ‘The worst of it is that he doesn’t want to talk to us, won’t even meet us. He didn’t even go to his mother’s funeral.’
‘I’m sure that will improve over time,’ said Thóra, without much conviction. It was unlikely that Adolf would mend his ways. ‘Alda’s story is just so tragic.’
‘Yes, but this does explain some things,’ said Jóhanna. ‘Now I appreciate why she and her husband divorced. He was a wonderful man, but from what I understand now she’d never actually been able to have sex after the rape. She had recently started seeing a sex therapist, but to my knowledge the treatment hadn’t produced any results. At least, Alda had never been with any men.’ Orri’s head had sunk to his chest, along with the untouched flatbread. He was fast asleep in Thóra’s arms. ‘Is he yours?’ asked Jóhanna.
‘Not exactly,’ said Thóra.‘He’s my grandson.’ She adjusted the boy in her lap.
‘Did you know that Alda was a grandmother?’ asked the other woman sadly. Thóra shook her head.‘She never knew it, but Adolf has a daughter. She’s very ill, unfortunately. Mum has gone to visit her in hospital. She was with her this morning.’
‘How is your mother?’ asked Thóra. is she any better?‘
Jóhanna smiled unhappily.‘She’s not very well. She’s very unhappy with how slowly the investigation of Alda’s murder is going.’ She looked at her watch.‘She promised to drop by, but I don’t know if she’ll make it. She’s been absolutely impossible this afternoon, ever since she returned from her hospital visit. She had some sort of VISA receipt and needed desperately to find out who it belonged to. It was impossible to read the signature clearly but I went into the bank system from my home computer and I managed to dig it up. Hjalti Markusson. She calmed down after that. God knows why. I’m worried about her; I think she’s obsessed with Leifur and Markus’s family.’ Jóhanna looked around the empty tent. ‘Mother and I are more or less invisible these days. She takes it very much to heart, even though she doesn’t say so. Leifur and Markus seem to have come out of this as some sort of heroes, along with their father, but it’s as if people aren’t sure how they should act towards us. I don’t get it.’
Thóra thought she knew what was going on. People were unsure of the state of the relationship between these two families after everything that had happened. Markus had been locked up, but Jóhanna’s mother had neglected to tell the authorities that he wasn’t involved at all in the old case. So it was safer to be on the side of the fishing mogul than of the widow and her daughter, the bank clerk. ‘Well,’ said Thóra, ‘I guess I should start making my way back home.’ She stood up, trying to ignore Jóhanna’s mournful look. She couldn’t do it. ‘Will you be here tomorrow?’ she asked.‘We’ll be around, and we’d be happy to drop by.’ The smile on Jóhanna’s face said everything that needed to be said.
It looked as though all the guests in Leifur and Markus’s tent had left in a rush, and if Thóra had come just a few minutes later she might have found the place empty. ‘We’re heading over for the singing,’ said Markus, even more garrulous than when Thóra had left their tent earlier. ‘A good spot has been reserved for us and I’m sure we can make some room for you.’
Thóra declined. ‘No, thank you, I’ve got to get home. I just came to fetch the pushchair,’ she said.
‘Bring her the pushchair, Hjalti,’ said Leifur, his speech even more slurred than Markus’s.
The boy stood up without looking at her. He had removed his fake beard but was still wearing the red hat. He seemed very ill at ease, and Thóra was starting to find it peculiar. Maybe he was one of those who couldn’t hold his liquor – or perhaps he was ashamed of his father when he drank. He lifted the pushchair and heaved it clumsily across the tent. Thóra could not grab it because of the child in her arms, but Maria reached for it and after a short struggle managed to open it and set it up for Thóra. Thóra hardly dared to lay Orri in it for fear that it would collapse on him. The woman stood unsteadily next to Thóra, and nearly lost her balance when the tent flaps opened.
Thóra could tell from the look on Leifur’s face that the visitor was not particularly welcome. The corners of Markus’s mouth had also drooped a little, but otherwise his face was impassive. Thóra had her back to the entrance, but looked around to see who it was. Alda’s mother had arrived. She still looked as devastated as when Thóra had seen her after the funeral, but now there was a kind of grim determination in her face. ‘Perhaps my Geiri and your father were friends,’ said the old woman, at first hesitantly, but growing bolder with every word. ‘But I have never really known much about Magnus. Destiny favoured him more than most, at least in the beginning. He took a risk and continued his fishing operation, and caught more fish than ever before. He took the blame for Dadi, but because of the eruption the case was forgotten. You, his sons, have lived off your father your entire lives. People tiptoe around you both – especially you, Leifur.’