‘It’s so awful,’ she said. ‘I can’t stop thinking about her. ‘What... what she must have gone through. I can’t stop wondering exactly how she died. Do you know what happened? How could something like that happen?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ said Flóvent in a reassuring tone.
‘Have you talked to the old bag at the shop?’ asked the girl.
Flóvent said yes they had visited the owner.
‘Honestly, the way she forced poor Rósamunda to slave for her, half the night sometimes, without paying her so much as a króna extra.’
‘Is that so?’ said Flóvent. ‘We understand that Rósamunda was very good at her job.’
‘She was. And the old cow knew it. Rósamunda wasn’t planning to stay with her long. She meant to set up her own mending and dressmaking business, and I’m sure the old bag suspected it. She was worried about it. I’m sure she was.’
‘Did this lead to any unpleasantness between them?’
‘No, Rósamunda didn’t breathe a word about it, not so far as I know. Or if she did, it must have been very recently. She dreamt of becoming a couture dressmaker like the lady who runs Haraldarbúd. She even had plans to go abroad after the war to train.’
‘Do you know her parents at all?’ asked Thorson.
‘I met them once — they were like something out of the dark ages. But she always spoke well of them. You know she was adopted?’
‘What do you mean about the dark ages?’
‘Well, I got the feeling they were quite strict with Rósamunda when she was growing up, and they’re spiritualists too, of course.’
‘Spiritualists?’ said Thorson.
‘Yes, that’s what Rósamunda said. That they were into all that spiritualist stuff. Went to seances and had a load of books about ghosts and life after death.’
‘Was Rósamunda interested in that sort of thing?’
‘God, no, not in the slightest. She didn’t believe in it. Thought it was a load of old mumbo jumbo. And when he said that to her... the filthy sod...’
‘What?’
‘Like I said, I was going to come and see you about something that happened to Rósamunda. But she didn’t like talking about it and begged me not to tell anyone.’
‘Oh? What was it?’
‘She refused to tell me who the man was or where it happened. Only that it did and that it was horrible. Disgusting. There was never any question of keeping the baby when she found out she was in the family way. I don’t know...’ The girl faltered, then made herself say it: ‘He raped her. Rósamunda came round here afterwards and stayed with me for two days before she could face going home. She was in a terrible state...’
‘Was this about three months ago?’ asked Flóvent.
The girl nodded.
‘Who raped her?’
‘A “bloody bastard”, she said. She couldn’t go home so she stayed here with me until she’d recovered a bit.’
‘Did she tell you who he was?’ asked Thorson.
‘No. She just said he was completely off his rocker. I found her waiting for me outside when I got home, her clothes all torn. She was a dreadful sight. He told her to blame it on the huldufólk. Told her to say she’d been on Öskjuhlíd hill and one of the hidden people had attacked her. So you can tell he was completely unhinged.’
‘The huldufólk?’
‘I wish she’d reported him. I wish she’d said who he was. She shouldn’t have let him get away with it. She should have shouted his name from the rooftops, told everyone what he did to her, refused to leave him alone.’
‘What’s this about the huldufólk?’ asked Flóvent. ‘Are you sure she wasn’t interested in the supernatural?’
‘No.’
‘Did she believe in stories about the elves?’ asked Thorson.
‘No, of course not.’
‘Then what did she mean?’ asked Flóvent.
‘Search me. She wouldn’t say any more. Only that the man was off his rocker.’
Flóvent and Thorson caught each other’s eye.
‘Do you know if she had any contact with her family up north?’ asked Flóvent.
‘No, very little. Some of her brothers had moved south — two of them, I think. She said something about them working for the army. In Hvalfjördur or somewhere like that.’
‘What did she do in the evenings after work?’ asked Thorson.
‘Just went home, I think. She often worked late — far too often, if you ask me. We sometimes went to the pictures or dancing at Hótel Borg, but mostly she just slaved away for the old bag. Then, after she was raped, she stopped going out altogether.’
‘Do you know if she was acquainted with anyone from the supply depot in the theatre building?’
‘No, I very much doubt it.’
‘Or if she knew a soldier called Frank Carroll?’ asked Flóvent.
‘She never mentioned a Frank.’
‘He might have been calling himself Frank Ruddy.’
The girl shook her head again.
‘She wasn’t in the Situation?’ asked Thorson.
‘No. Definitely not.’
‘Did she have a boyfriend?’ asked Flóvent.
‘No. Unless she met him very recently.’
‘No boys she was interested in?’
‘No. Rósamunda wasn’t really the type.’
‘You say she was determined to get rid of the baby. Do you know who performed the abortion?’
‘She wouldn’t tell me who it was. She was ashamed of what she’d done and didn’t want to discuss it. So I avoided bringing it up.’
‘But you spoke to her afterwards?’
‘Yes. She was so crushed by the whole thing. Was feeling so terrible. Actually, I...’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know who fixes that sort of thing here in town, but my mum knows a woman who makes all kinds of herbal cures. I told Rósamunda about her and I know for a fact she was going to pay her a visit.’
‘And who is this woman?’
‘Her name’s Vigga and she lives in the Shadow District. I’m pretty sure Rósamunda did go and see her.’
Thorson jotted down the name.
‘And she definitely didn’t tell you who raped her?’ asked Flóvent.
‘No,’ said the girl with the raven-black hair, frowning. ‘I don’t know why she protected the bastard. I just couldn’t understand it.’
17
Konrád downloaded newspapers from the archives, a page at a time, reading reports of air raids on Berlin and a lull in the fighting in Italy. News of the war tended to dominate, interspersed with domestic reports of political infighting and shipping losses. ‘The Ódinn Believed Lost with Five Men.’ ‘Preparations in Full Swing for Independence Celebrations at Thingvellir.’ They were all freely available online and Konrád carefully scanned the papers from the time of the girl’s death and a good while afterwards. However, he could find few articles about the case apart from the ones Thorson had kept, and those he did find told him nothing new. Censorship had been in operation during the war, Konrád reminded himself, to ensure that nothing would be printed that might be of advantage to the enemy, but that could hardly have applied to the case of the strangled girl.
He had also searched the CID archives for old files relating to the inquiry but found next to nothing. It seemed that almost everything relating to the case had been lost, and he could find no indication that it had ever gone to court. All he managed to turn up was part of an interview with a witness, the woman who had found the body. She claimed she had seen a girl running away from the theatre. In the margin of the witness statement someone had written a name. Konrád copied it down.
It was possible that the case had been handed over to the military authorities. At the time, the occupation forces had included servicemen from Norway, Canada, Britain and the United States, though the Americans were by far and away the largest group. If it had turned out that the girl’s killer was subject to the jurisdiction of the occupying military powers, that might explain why there had been so little about the incident in the Icelandic press and police records.