‘Yes, in the main, this is what was stated,’ replied Gudni sarcastically. He clasped his hands and leaned forwards. ‘To summarize the police report, I understand the sequence of events to have been as follows,’ he said, looking at Markus. ‘Late on the evening of 22 January 1973, Alda Thórgeirsdóttir contacted you and asked you to get rid of a box for her. You had a crush on Alda, who was by far the prettiest girl in the Islands, so you took the box without any further discussion. You brought it to your own basement, thinking you could hide it better later. That didn’t happen, since the eruption started that same night and you were woken by your parents and put on board a ship that sailed with you, your mother and your siblings to the mainland. On the boat you met Alda again, and when she asked whether you’d got rid of the box and where you’d put it, you told her the truth; the box had been left in the basement in the rush. You didn’t ask Alda what was in the box, since you didn’t want to displease her, her being so pretty, et cetera.’ Gudni grinned at Markus, who reddened. ‘Then nothing happened for around thirty years, until the Pompeüof the North project made the news and Alda contacted you. She implored you to prevent the house from being dug up from the ashes, because of the box that was there, and you still didn’t ask her what was in it. Maybe you’ve still got a crush on her?’
Markus blushed again. ‘No, it’s not that. It just didn’t come up in our conversations.’
‘Never mind,’ said Gudni, and continued with his summary. ‘In the end it was agreed that you would get to go down to the basement and take from there whatever you wished, and when she heard the news Alda calmed down. You planned to fetch the box and take it to her as requested. Then something happened: you finally decided in the basement that you wanted to know what was in the box, and out rolled a dried-up severed head. At the very same moment, you clapped eyes for the first time on three corpses that were not there that fateful night.’
‘Actually, the head didn’t roll out,’ replied Markus, looking oddly affronted. ‘I was so shocked when I saw what was in the box that I dropped it. Then the head fell out and bounced to the spot where it is now. It didn’t roll. I actually think that I may have kicked it in my hurry to get out of there, but I’m not certain. Anyway, it stopped right next to the bodies and that’s when I noticed them. I hadn’t noticed them before, since it was dark down there.’
Thóra interrupted Markus before he got any further with his description of the head’s travels around the floor of the basement. ‘Well, I think it’sbest that you read this over, Markus, despite this fine summary by Gudni, and then we’ve got to get going. The police have other things to take care of in the light of your statement. I assume that you’ll want to speak to this Alda, who appears to know more about the origins of the head than Markus does.’ She looked at the clock. If God and good fortune were with her there was still a chance that she’d catch the last flight home. It looked as if Markus would be cleared of all charges, even though the CID would probably want to speak to him later. She hoped Alda would verify his statement. If she didn’t, then his position would worsen considerably, both regarding the head and the three corpses. But Alda would surely confirm his story and explain about the head. Thóra glanced at her watch out of the corner of her eye, and then at Markus. He was still working his way through the first page of the police report. She hoped her flight had been delayed.
Chapter Three
Some days in Thóra’s life were slightly worse than others; on a bad day, for example, she would need to stop on her way to work to go back and turn off the coffee maker, or she’d get a call from the school asking her to fetch her daughter Sóley, who had got a bloody nose at break time. Other days were even worse: bills were overdue and the cash machine was broken, petrol got pumped into the family car which ran on diesel, and so on. On those days nothing went as it should, neither at home nor at the office. It was not yet noon when it became clear to Thóra that this was going to be one of those unfortunate days. It started with a long search for the car keys, which finally appeared in the mess in her son Gylfi’s room. The refrigerator turned out to be nearly empty, and the bread that Thóra had planned to use for Sóley’s lunch was mouldy. Thóra had wanted to go shopping on the way home from the airport the night before, but the plane from the Islands landed so late that the shops were closed. Things were no better at the office, where everything was topsyturvy: the computer system was down because of ‘router upgrades’ by the internet service provider, and there was no phone connection because an overzealous electrician who had been making repairs on their floor had accidentally fiddled with a wire that he ought to have left untouched. So for the greater part of the morning they had no connection to the outside world apart from their mobile phones. This upset the secretary, Bella, who refused to use her mobile phone for office work since the office didn’t pay her phone bill. Bragi, Thóra’s business partner, had lent her his mobile with desperation in his eyes. God only knew how the girl would treat callers, since she was not known for her amiable disposition.
As soon as the telephone connection was restored, Markus rang. After exchanging pleasantries, he got to the point.
Alda isn’t answering my calls,‘ he said. She could hear the anxiety in his voice.
‘You weren’t supposed to try to contact her until the police had finished questioning her, Markus. It could look as though you were trying to influence her testimony, and that’s the last thing we want.’ Thóra knew full well that he wanted to make sure the woman would verify his story, but she doubted that a phone call from him would change Alda’s testimony. She would either tell the truth, or lie to save her own skin. And when the chips were down, most people chose self-preservation.
‘But it’s so strange,’ said Markus. ‘We’ve had quite a lot of contact recently and she’s almost always answered as soon as the phone rings. Even when she doesn’t answer right away, she generally calls me back pretty much immediately. She’s never ignored me like this.’ He hesitated for a moment before continuing: ‘Maybe she’s avoiding me because she doesn’t want to back up my story. What do you think?’
Thóra was fairly certain he was right, but didn’t want to worry him even more. Of course there could be another explanation, but it seemed unlikely. ‘I think we should keep calm until we know something for sure.’ She looked at the clock. ‘I imagine that the police have already contacted her, although they probably haven’t questioned her yet. If she doesn’t substantiate your story then they’ll call you back in, and you have the right to have me there to support you. They will want to talk to you again, whether she verifies your statement or not, so you should just keep calm if they contact you.’
Markus took a deep breath. ‘Alda wouldn’t throw me to the lions.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ replied Thóra, thinking that Androcles had probably said the same thing about the Romans in the old days, right before he was shoved out into the arena. ‘Of course, I could phone our friend Gudni and try to find out what’s going on. There’s no guarantee he’ll tell me anything, but in the light of his dislike for formal procedures, you never know- he might let me in on something.’