‘You’re not unworthy of him, not at all. Igimaq realizes that, unless he’s very stupid. But that’s irrelevant. You simply need to make it clear to him that he can help his son. Him – and no one else.’ Thóra refrained from adding that it was possible even Igimaq couldn’t help. She continued while the going was good; Oqqapia hadn’t refused her request. ‘You’ve got to go to him and ask how he knew where the woman’s body could be found. Where was it lying? Did he see the person who killed her or does he know something that could explain who the murderer is?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. How can I reach him? I can’t go anywhere.’
‘You must be able to sneak away – borrow a snowmobile from your neighbours, if you have to. You’ve only been asked to stay there so you don’t infect anyone else – if you’ve even been infected. Be careful not to cough or touch Igimaq. I actually think he’s already come into contact with this disease and survived it, so he would be immune.’ He must have touched the body of his daughter when he buried her under the cairn. Usinna had more than likely died of the same thing as the drillers, whether it was the Spanish Flu or something else.
In the end Oqqapia agreed to make an effort to find the old hunter and promised to call Thóra immediately when she returned home.
Four hours later, Thóra’s phone rang. Since Thóra’s first conversation with Oqqapia, Sóley had called twice; she had started really missing her mother. Thóra decided not to mention the disease, so as not to worry Sóley unduly. She spoke to her daughter about the cold in Greenland and the heaps and heaps of snow. Sóley immediately asked her mother to convert the amount of snow into snowmen and Thóra guessed it would make one million and fourteen of them – just from the snow that she could see out of the window. The conversation she was having now with Oqqapia had a much more serious tone. She had made it out of the village on a snowmobile, as Thóra had suggested, without being followed.
‘I found him. He was in his tent. The dogs didn’t want to let me near the tent door and I’m sure they would have torn me to pieces and eaten me if they hadn’t been tethered.’
‘But he spoke to you, didn’t he? How did he respond?’
‘He found the woman’s body where it was hidden beneath one of the buildings at the camp. He took it to a place where foxes couldn’t get at it.’
‘Beneath a building? Was it buried?’
‘No, he said it was possible to crawl under all of the buildings and that the body had been shoved down there. All you needed to do to cover it was to shovel snow over it. At least until spring.’
‘How did he know about it, then?’
‘He saw the body when it was moved there. He’d been at the camp earlier in the evening in the hope of preventing the mining operation from expanding into the forbidden area. He tried some ancient magic, put on a mask and called upon the spirits of his ancestors with blood from a seal flipper to help him, but it didn’t work. He waited there in the hope that something would change, but he didn’t get his wish. However, he saw someone from the camp sitting in a car outside the office building, keeping a low profile. Igimaq wanted to know what was going on so he stopped and waited there. When the woman came out of the office the car door opened, the person ran after her and hit her on the neck with a blunt instrument. A hammer or something like that. The wind had been blowing quite a bit and there was a storm, so Igimaq didn’t have a clear view. He did insist, however, that it wasn’t an accident.’
Thóra swallowed. ‘Did he see the attacker well enough to be able to give a description?’
‘Yes. The murderer stopped for a long time after turning the woman over, and then had a good look at her face. Igimaq thought that the woman would die of exposure there, but she suddenly seemed to pull herself together and started dragging the body towards the buildings; then she pushed it under one of them.’
‘Did you say the woman? Do you mean the woman who was killed or the murderer?’
‘The murderer. Igimaq said it was a woman.’
Thóra wasn’t sure how to end their conversation. She glanced over at the subdued group gathered around the television. No one paid any attention to her. Except for Friðrikka. She stared into Thóra’s eyes and had seemed to have taken in every word. Thóra thanked Oqqapia warmly and said the police would doubtless be getting in touch with her soon. She hung up without taking her eyes off Friðrikka, without so much as blinking. Apart from Oddný Hildur, there had only been one woman at the camp.
Friðrikka was a strange character. While they were at the camp she had been like a fragile little flower, unable to cope with anything, but in the end she appeared strong and serene. Of course the tears flowed as before, yet she showed no sign at all of breaking down. Thóra had offered to assist her in the police interrogation, until another lawyer could be found. The search for one was already under way, so Thóra was only present when Friðrikka was first questioned.
Arnar Jóhannesson had poisoned Friðrikka’s life so much that she was no longer in control of her own actions. She had difficulty explaining what had prompted the actual assault, whether she had intended to kill the man or just injure him. Thóra was quite sure that Friðrikka herself didn’t know the answer. Her hatred had simply overwhelmed her. She blamed Arnar for her divorce and had done so for a long time. He had come to her and wanted to confess, since it was one of the steps in his twelve-step treatment programme. He told her that he’d had a relationship with her husband around the time that the man came out of the closet. They had met at Berg’s Annual Ball, and Arnar had seen immediately that the man was pretending to be something he wasn’t. He had been drunk, and hadn’t had too many qualms about seducing the husband of his co-worker.
But after taking account of his life, it was clear to Arnar that he had betrayed a trust that under normal circumstances should have been worth more to him than one night’s fun. Nothing had come of the relationship; nevertheless, after listening to Arnar ask for forgiveness, Friðrikka blamed him for the end of her marriage. Arnar hadn’t been the first man in her husband’s life, but when someone is hurting it is so tempting to find a scapegoat for all the sorrow, disappointment and anger. Hence Friðrikka felt nothing but hatred towards Arnar, and when it appeared that her friendship with Oddný Hildur would be ruined because of him, it was the last straw.
They had argued bitterly over the harassment that Arnar was suffering. Oddný Hildur felt her friend simply turned a blind eye to the bullying, lacking the courage to condemn it. She just looked the other way and smiled at those who treated him the worst. Friðrikka hadn’t entrusted anyone with the truth about what Arnar had done to her, so she was unable to defend herself against her friend’s accusations. Her feeble objections did little more than pour oil on the fire. When she went to the office building she was thinking of taking revenge once and for all against the man who had destroyed her life twice. Arnar had said that he was going to work after supper, but Oddný Hildur hadn’t told anyone that she was planning to do the same. Friðrikka stewed over her plans in her apartment but at some point, which she could not properly recall, she stood up, dressed, went to sit in the car outside the office building and waited for Arnar. She said that while waiting she’d felt as if she were in a trance; her mind had been completely empty. The die had been cast. She recalled seeing a sled dog sitting near the car, staring at her, but she’d been too upset to wonder why it was looking at her like that. She had seen the dog walk calmly round behind the building, and some time later the light had gone off in Arnar’s office. Suddenly the entire workplace went dark. The front door opened. Friðrikka climbed out of the car and shut the door quietly behind her. She saw Arnar bend his head down against the wind. He turned his face from the car, and so had no idea she was there. Until it was too late.