He could very well be charged or sentenced. For the moment there are no other suspects and this investigation has all the makings of a media circus. It’s not the kind of case that brings out the best in the police or the justice system.‘
‘You take on the strangest jobs,’said Matthew. ‘Is that deliberate?’
‘No, far from it,’ said Thóra emphatically. ‘At least I have to believe it’s not. I didn’t go searching for the man. When I took this case on I expected the worst, but not that heads would roll, literally…’ She exhaled.‘But you haven’t answered my question about the way this head has been treated. Have you ever heard of such a thing?’
‘Well, I’m no expert,’replied Matthew, and Thóra could hear his voice taking on a more serious tone. ‘But of course I’ve heard and read about similar cases.’
‘Of course,’ said Thóra.‘It happens all the time, silly me.’
Matthew sounded insulted. ‘You know what I mean. These things aren’t unheard of in wartime; in fact I wouldn’t be surprised if it happened in prehistoric times. Its purpose is almost certainly to deprive the victim of his masculinity,and at the same time to display the perpetrator’s revulsion towards the individual in question. The Mafia also used to do it to traitors.’
Thóra raised a sarcastic eyebrow, although Matthew couldn’t see her. ‘I doubt the Mafia had anything to do with this. This is a small community dependent on fishing, with little to interest the Mafia.’
‘I imagine there’s a harbour there?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact there is, but I still don’t think this has anything to do with the Mafia,’ said Thóra confidently. She had seen photos of the Westmann Islands taken around the time of the disaster, and cigar-wielding Mafiosi in suits would have fitted into them about as naturally as astronauts in full spacesuits.‘True, the Cod War between Iceland and Britain was in full swing at the time, but it wasn’t a war in the usual sense, so this is unlikely to be related to any battle.’
‘I think this type of treatment also occurs in hate crimes, when people are killed because of their race, religion or sexual preference. Would that fit?’
‘I don’t know, damn it,’replied Thóra. ‘The bodies haven’t been identified, which makes the case impossible. Hopefully that will be resolved soon, since I’m sort of stranded here until I know more.’
‘I know this much, Thóra,’sighed Matthew, ‘what this person has done displays enormous hatred, spite and cruelty. If whoever did it is still alive, I don’t like the look of this. They won’t be too happy about people digging around in the past.’
Thóra tried to lighten the mood.‘Ah, bless you. The culprit is either six feet under or a senior citizen. I don’t think I’m in any danger.’
Matthew was silent for a moment. ‘You can’t grow out of hatred. Not that kind of hatred, Thóra. You should watch your step.’
After the phone call she sat for a moment, staring into nothing. She tried to imagine herself cutting off a man’s penis and putting it in his mouth, but she couldn’t. She realized that there was a lot of truth in what Matthew had said. This crime showed unbelievable hatred; the kind of hatred only possible in someone who no longer held company with civilized men. But what could cause that?
Chapter Fifteen
There was no one in reception when Thóra came to return the keys. Bella was nowhere to be seen, so she sent her a text message telling her she ought to hurry if they wanted to catch the plane. Thóra had no interest in missing the morning flight and having to wait until evening for another, since there was so much waiting for her at home and at work. She threw her key forcefully onto the table in the hope that the receptionist would hear her, but in vain. Spying an old-fashioned bell, she rang it loudly. It didn’t take long for the young woman who seemed to be on duty at the reception desk round the clock to appear with a smile on her lips and check Thóra out. However, there was still no sign of Bella. Had she perhaps gone out again last night, and was still asleep next to some random sailor? Looking at her watch Thóra saw that there was no reason to panic yet, so she plonked herself down in an easy chair and grabbed some newspapers. They turned out to be from the day before, but that was good enough for her.
After a while Alda’s sister Jóhanna walked into the hotel lobby and came over. Thóra quickly put down the paper she was reading and greeted her.
‘Oh, good,’ said Jóhanna as she shook Thóra’s hand loosely, trying to catch her breath. ‘I was so sure I’d missed you. You’re taking the morning flight, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ replied Thóra, looking over at the clock again. ‘The girl who’s with me is a bit late. Luckily, because otherwise I’d be at the airport.’ She smiled at Jóhanna.‘Did you want to talk about something in particular?’
‘I found something last night. After talking to you I started to think about Alda and what you said about the bodies in the basement. If my sister was murdered then I want to help in any way I can.’ She lifted a plastic bag that she’d brought with her and held it out towards Thóra. ‘That’s why I went looking for these. I want you to see them.’
Thóra looked down at the bag, surprised. She took it from Jóhanna.‘What are they?’
Jóhanna looked apologetic and rubbed at her chin. ‘Alda always kept diaries and I knew they were kept in storage, with other things, at Mother and Father’s. Our house was one of those that wasn’t buried completely and was dug up later. After Father died, Mother put the house up for sale, but no one was interested. I helped her go through stuff and throw some of it out, so the house could be shown without her feeling ashamed of all the junk in the basement and the garage. I found these among some of Alda’s things that she left behind in the evacuation. I was going to bring the diaries to our meeting last weekend.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘Mother is in Reykjavik because of Alda’s death, and she doesn’t know I took them. I’m not sure she’d remember them, in all honesty.’
Thóra could have kissed the woman, but restrained herself. It was clear to her that she shouldn’t accept the diaries, which could be used as evidence in the police investigation, but equally she knew that if she turned them over she wouldn’t get to see them again any time soon, and even then she’d probably never get to read every word. However, as a lawyer she had an obligation to do the right thing. ‘The most proper course of action would be for these diaries to go to the police,’ she said, holding the bag out to Jóhanna. ‘It’s possible that the diaries contain information they have the right to receive.’
Jóhanna’s expression hardened and she stopped rubbing her jaw. ‘I won’t give these to Gudni and his colleagues. It’s out of the question. These are my sister’s private thoughts from her sensitive teenage years, and I don’t want them being made public for strangers to rip them apart.’
‘Have you read them?’ asked Thóra, still holding out the bag.
‘No,’ said Jóhanna, shaking her head. ‘I can’t bring myself to do it. At the time these diaries were the holiest things that Alda owned and she wouldn’t let me near them, even before I could read. I don’t want to know her secrets, no matter how trivial they might seem today.’ She looked imploringly at Thóra. ‘I trust you, although I don’t know you at all. You know how it is to be a young girl, and besides, you will be able to judge whether there’s anything relevant to the bodies and to Alda’s murder.’
‘It’s not definite that Alda was murdered,’ said Thóra, mainly as a formality. Jóhanna had clearly fixed the idea in her head and right now nothing Thóra could say or do would change that. ‘And even if the diaries shed some light on the case, that doesn’t mean they’ll explain her death.’