Loftur, who had joined them while Ægir was underwater, added with a sneer: ‘I thought everything was supposed to be so light underwater. Obviously not light enough.’
‘Oh, shut up. If you’re such tough guys how come you’re not strapping on tanks yourselves and going to sort it out?’ Ægir took another swig. Losing his temper had warmed him up a little. ‘I’m just describing the situation. I haven’t a clue how to solve the problem. You’re the sailors. You sort out this mess instead of giving me a hard time.’
‘You’ve had enough beer.’ Thráinn pushed himself suddenly upright. ‘Why don’t you go and talk to your wife? She didn’t look too happy when she ran out. Then you’d better take a hot shower and get into bed. It’s the only way to beat the cold.’
‘Mummy went mad.’ Arna grinned. ‘She won’t want to talk to you yet.’ It was obvious that Arna wanted to stay and listen to the grown-ups quarrelling. It didn’t often happen, so the opportunity was too good to miss. ‘I’d wait if I was you.’
Bylgja looked reproachful. ‘She wasn’t angry, Daddy, just upset. When you were away so long, she thought you’d fallen in the sea. She looked out of the window and could only see two men – not you, Daddy – and she thought you’d drowned. She sent us below so we couldn’t watch. I wish I’d seen you come up again.’
Ægir discovered that his lips were dry. When he ran his tongue over them, he tasted salt. ‘Mummy’ll get over it.’
‘I want to try being that cold.’ Arna leant even further over the table. ‘If I ate a ton of ice cream and chewed loads of ice cubes, would I be as cold as you?’
‘Yes, I’m sure you would. But I don’t recommend it.’
‘There is no ice cream.’ Thráinn took the rest of the six-pack from Halli and put it back in the fridge.
‘There is,’ Arna retorted obstinately, unwilling to bow to the captain’s authority. To her eyes he was just another bossy grown-up. ‘I saw ice lollies in the freezer when we put our food in there. Can I have one, Daddy?’
‘No.’ Ægir put his beer down with a clunk. Her question had jolted him back to reality and the predicament they were in. ‘Let’s go below and find Mummy. Thráinn’s right.’ He met the captain’s eye, then his gaze travelled onwards to the larder door. At that point, the effects of the alcohol wore off completely. The padlock was lying on the floor and looked as if it had been clipped through. It had been intact and locked when they went out on deck. He coughed. ‘Have you been fiddling with the lock?’ He nodded as casually as he could towards the larder. The three men shook their heads. ‘Somehow I doubt Lára or the girls did that.’
Arna and Bylgja stared at him uncomprehendingly. ‘Did what?’
‘Nothing.’ Ægir watched Thráinn walk over and open the door. He caught a quick glimpse as the captain slipped inside and gasped when he saw the state the larder was in. The freezer lid was open and the food that had been in the top of the chest was scattered all over the floor. Ægir had no need to see inside the freezer to realise that the body was missing. The captain’s expression was enough.
What the hell was going on? Actually, he knew where the body had ended up; the woman in the sea had been no hallucination. What an idiot he was not to have mentioned it immediately; now his story would seem both unconvincing and suspicious. Who could have thrown the body overboard and why? It wasn’t him, and presumably neither Thráinn nor Halli could have done it without the other noticing. Which did not leave many people. He stared at Loftur, who immediately averted his eyes.
Chapter 16
The dog-eared bundle of photocopies on the desk in front of her showed evidence of rough handling. When she unfolded them she discovered flakes of tobacco and fluff that suggested they had been stuffed into a less than pristine anorak pocket. ‘Thanks for bringing these. It must be difficult getting around in weather like this with your leg in plaster.’ She smoothed out the papers and had a quick leaf through them. At first sight everything appeared to be present. She looked up at Snævar and smiled. ‘Did you have much trouble getting hold of them?’
‘Oh, no, not really. I looked through my junk and found these hospital forms. Halli must have chucked them in my bag when he packed it for me. I fetched some documents from the Social Insurance office too, in case you needed something official. I’ve nothing better to do at the moment. They probably won’t be much use to you; they’re just payments linked to my European Health Insurance card, but there’s also a bit about what they did at the hospital and so on. Anyway, you’ve got them now. Give me a shout if there’s anything else I can do for you. It makes a nice change to be busy.’
‘You obviously won’t be going to sea for a while. Do you have any idea when your leg will have healed?’
‘No, but hopefully in a couple of weeks.’ Snævar shrugged, and the stretched-out neckline of his garish jumper gaped to reveal a white T-shirt. He was wearing dirty tracksuit bottoms that in no way matched the shapeless, bobbly acrylic jumper. His dark hair, though shaven to within a millimetre of his scalp, smelt as though it was in need of a wash, and a close encounter with a razor around the jawline wouldn’t have hurt him either. Thóra tried to avert her attention from the young man’s slovenly appearance. After all, the way he looked now was probably not habitual. It must be difficult to find trousers with bottoms wide enough to fit over the plaster cast, and taking a shower couldn’t be easy either. ‘I go to sea every other month. The accident happened during my time off, so I’d better be mobile again before my next tour or I’ll be off work for another two months. Unless I can make a deal with the bloke who works opposite me.’
Peering under the desk, Thóra noticed that his plaster cast was wrapped in a plastic bag from Ríkid, the state-run off-licence. ‘Well, you certainly won’t get far like that.’
‘No.’ He smiled briefly without showing his teeth. ‘Do you know whose body it was on the beach?’ Evidently he did not have much time for small talk. Thóra understood his concern; his friend Halldór was one of the few likely candidates.
‘Yes. It wasn’t your friend.’ Earlier that morning Ægir’s father had rung to let her know that the police had told him the body was not that of his son or any other family member. The postmortem had confirmed this and the person in question’s next of kin had been notified. Since a statement would be issued to the press at midday, Thóra thought it wouldn’t matter if she revealed the man’s name to Snævar. ‘It was the mate, Loftur.’ She observed his relief, followed almost instantly by apparent shame at his selfishness; naturally it was still a tragedy, whoever was involved.
‘You didn’t know him?’ Thóra asked, though the answer was obvious from his reaction.
‘No. Never met him, as far as I know. But I’m not very good with faces. We may have worked on a short tour together, though I don’t think so.’
‘So you didn’t see him in Lisbon?’
‘No. Nor the captain either. I had my accident before they arrived, though of course I’d have met them if things had gone according to plan. I think I know who Loftur was, though. At least, I’ve heard people talk about him.’
‘Oh? What have you heard?’
‘Nothing bad, far from it. I forget exactly what it was but nothing like that. Just that he was a bloody good ship’s mate. He passed his certificate quite young, if I remember right.’ Snævar raised his eyes to the ceiling in an effort to recall. ‘That was it – they said it was a pity he turned his back on the fishing industry because he was very promising. He used to work on the same trawler as me but quit just before I started. He got on the wrong side of the first mate or something stupid like that, and people were wondering what he’d do instead. That’s all, I think.’