In front of her was a sheet of paper on which she’d scribbled all the leads she had uncovered, but there was disappointingly little of any use in it. Of course there had to be some simple explanation of events; things didn’t happen by themselves or through a series of coincidences, but the problem was, as so often, in distinguishing the wheat from the chaff. Until that happened, all the names, places and things she had been told would remain one great big jumble of information in which everything appeared equally important. She was reminded of what the IT technician had said when he came to repair the office Internet server. He’d spent most of the day on his repairs and said that it would take no time at all to fix the fault once he found it; the problem lay in identifying it. And that was indeed how it went – as soon as he found the problem, his job was pretty much done. Maybe she should call him. Getting the opinion of a stranger was surely no crazier a strategy than any other, even though an IT guy might not be the most appropriate stranger to pick. She dialled the extension of her partner, Bragi, but he must have been out of the office as Bella picked up the phone after several rings. Thóra asked if she knew when Bragi was due in and received the answer she’d expected; Bella had no idea, and she didn’t care one bit. After hanging up on the employee of the month, Thóra decided to try once more to reach Ari. Again, he didn’t answer the phone, which got on Thóra’s nerves even more.
She realized it was pointless spending any more time mulling over her scribbles, so she went online in the hope of finding further news of the man who’d been found dead in Nauthólsvík. Information turned out to be rather scarce, but it had been confirmed that he was a male in his twenties, and that he was not considered to have died of natural causes.
The police clearly wanted to say as little as possible about the case, but the news report concluded that they were still trying to identify the deceased. Thóra found this puzzling; it didn’t usually take long to find these things out. Maybe the dead man was a foreigner, after all, and it was pure coincidence that Margeir’s phone had been found in the same place – if she was right about that. It would be absurd, yes, but not impossible. The fact that the police hadn’t called her in for questioning even though she had recently called Margeir might simply indicate that he and his phone weren’t associated with the death of the man reported in the news – or that the police were just busy with other things. Disappointed that there was no more to learn on the subject, she went back to the main page of the website and saw that a new story had been added while she’d been reading.
The headline read serious assault at sogn. Thóra was actually rather surprised that Jósteinn and Jakob’s conflict hadn’t been leaked sooner. The story was neither long nor detailed and consisted of a brief description of the incident and Jakob’s injuries. An employee of Prison Services was quoted as saying that he didn’t want to comment on the matter, and the same went for the doctor on duty at Sogn. Brief mention was made of Jakob and Jósteinn’s previous crimes; neither of them was identified by name, but it was specified that one of them suffered a mental disability. It was, by and large, a factual and neutral account – except for the line describing the attack as gratuitous and unusually vicious. Still, Thóra doubted that Jósteinn would lose much sleep over that. Her attention was drawn by the statement that the two men’s continued custody at Sogn was in doubt due to the risk of subsequent attacks, and she was particularly interested to read that the decision concerning their institutionalization was being finalized. This must mean Jakob might soon be released from hospital.
She looked at the clock. It was still two hours before her scheduled meeting with the sheriff regarding the divorce of a couple who had finally agreed to share their debt burden equally. As so often in these cases, they had managed to re-establish a civil relationship and might even end up as friends. She had plenty of time to drop in on Jakob. There was a fair chance of him being sent to Akureyri, almost 400 kilometres from Reykjavík, and with the weather the way it was she was very keen to avoid having to drive cross-country to speak to him. She really ought to visit him while they were still only a few minutes away from each other.
The sterile smell from Jakob’s bandages was not immediately noticeable, but after nearly an hour it had managed to work its way so thoroughly into Thóra’s senses that she felt she was suffocating. ‘Don’t you find the air a bit close in here, Jakob? Should I open the window a bit?’ She looked hopefully at him and pointed at the curtains, which had been drawn so that they could see the laptop screen better. Thóra had taken it with her in the hope that Jakob might know someone on the memorial page for Friðleifur.
‘No, no. I’m cold.’ Jakob pushed his thick glasses back into place. They seemed incapable of sitting properly on his nose and kept slipping down. Every time she looked at them she wondered who had chosen the frames and when the glasses had actually been bought. If she’d had to guess, she’d have said they were originally bought by Tootsie in the early 80s. ‘OK, never mind. Shall we look at the next photos?’ Thóra smiled at Jakob, who seemed relieved that she wasn’t going to press the issue with the window. It was fair enough; her wool sweater was light but warm, and he was in a short-sleeved T-shirt marked National Hospital Laundry Room. His bedcover was thin, as well – it looked like a blanket enclosed in a duvet cover.
‘Good. I don’t want to get a cold. Mummy says that’s bad when you’re injured like I am.’
‘She’s quite right.’ Thóra couldn’t help but smile again. The impassioned way in which he communicated was infectious and it made a refreshing change to speak to someone who was genuinely interested in whatever she said to him. ‘Well, do you recognize anyone in these pictures?’
‘Umm, yes.’ Jakob moved nearer the screen. ‘No. That one looks just like that actor.’
‘Yes, he does a bit.’ Until now Jakob had recognized no one except the two night watchmen, Margeir and Friðleifur. That didn’t prevent him from scrutinizing every photo with the same concentration as he had the first. ‘How about in this one?’ Thóra chose the next photo, which had been taken at the residence.
‘Yes!’ Jakob poked the screen repeatedly, so hard that the fabric of it rippled slightly. Thóra didn’t dare do anything but inch the computer away from him. ‘Friðleifur! Again!’
‘Yes, that’s him. We don’t actually need to think about him, remember? Or about Margeir. If you recognize someone besides those two, let me know.’
‘Yes, I know.’ He looked at Thóra and seemed pleased with her expression, perhaps fearing that she would be frustrated with him. ‘Can I still ask you one thing?’
‘Of course.’
‘Do I get to go home now? I’ve been hurt and I don’t want to go back to Sogn. I should get to go home, I think.’
‘I think so too, Jakob.’ It didn’t surprise Thóra that he should mention this. ‘I’m hopeful that you’ll be able to, but I don’t think it’s going to happen very soon, unfortunately.’
Jakob looked sadly into her eyes. ‘What does hopeful mean? Good hope?’ Suddenly his face broke into a smile.