So she went downstairs. The manager was totally understanding, and a minute later he had opened the door to Nancy’s room.
Nancy was lying on her back, fully clothed, her eyes shut.
‘Thank you,’ said Kelly to the manager, and she gently touched her grandmother’s arm. ‘Grammy? Grammy, wake up!’
Nothing.
‘Grammy!’ The old lady looked very still. No sign of her chest moving at all. ‘Grammy!’
‘Let me have a look.’ The manager hurried over to the bed and felt Nancy’s brow. Then he put his ear to her chest. Then he felt for a pulse. He turned to Kelly, his face grave.
‘I’m sorry.’
Thirty-One
Flights from Iceland to Greenland departed from the small City Airport in the heart of Reykjavík, rather than the international airport at Keflavík. Magnus decided to take the direct route over the hill at Thingholt, rather than the faster route around it.
He made for the Hallgrímskirkja on the summit and parked outside, right underneath the statue of Leif Erikson staring westwards over the city towards Vinland, his battleaxe by his side. He strolled down Skólavördustígur, the short straight street that ran down from the church towards the centre of the city. There were galleries on either side, and Magnus paused outside one of them to look in the window.
Behind the displays of intricate silver jewellery and stained glass, he could see Ingileif. She was speaking to a well-dressed middle-aged woman, possibly a Danish or German tourist, and showing her some fish-skin bags, subtly patterned in silver, yellow and blue.
His heart lurched. Any man would think Ingileif was attractive. But to Magnus, she was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
And she was the mother of his son.
He wasn’t sure what to say to her about that, how to acknowledge it, whether to acknowledge it. And the careful policeman in him recognized that Vigdís might be wrong; Ási might be someone else’s child.
Ásgrímur. Magnus grinned at the name. It would hardly be the coolest name in an American elementary schoolyard, and its diminutive would be even worse. But it wasn’t just Ingileif’s father’s name. He in turn had been named after a Viking ancestor mentioned in the sagas, who had lived on a farm near Mount Hekla and killed a neighbour, his foster-brother Gaukur of Stöng. It was the kind of bloodthirsty detail Magnus would have loved as a boy. Would Ási?
Ingileif would have known how much Magnus would appreciate the name. Maybe that was one of the reasons she had chosen it.
The doorbell rang as the tourist left the shop, her purchase in a shopping bag. Magnus looked through the window into the gallery to see Ingileif staring right back at him.
Their eyes met. It was difficult to read Ingileif’s expression. Questioning.
If she was asking a question, Magnus didn’t know the answer. He turned on his heel and walked rapidly back up the hill to where he had parked his car, feeling like a bit of a weirdo. Police officers were not supposed to stalk their former girlfriends.
He drove straight to the airport. Eygló, Einar, Suzy, Tom, Ajay and Professor Beccari were all gathered there having checked in. Magnus pulled all but the professor into a police interview room at the terminal.
Suzy was not happy. ‘I hope you are not going to make us miss the flight.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Magnus. ‘I’ll be quick. I need to return Einar his phone and his laptop.’ He took them out of his bag and handed them to Einar. ‘Our forensics team has just taken copies, nothing has been interfered with, although both devices have been charged.’
Einar took them without a word. He looked just as drawn as he had in Ólafsvík. Magnus guessed his conversation with Rósa the night before must have been difficult. And it would take him more than a few days to recover from Carlotta’s death.
‘Once you have finished in Greenland we expect you to return here. That applies to all of you.’
‘That’s what our tickets say,’ said Suzy. ‘Return flights.’
‘I know. But no changes to destination. I have contacted the authorities in Greenland to keep an eye on you. That’s especially true of you, Einar. I’m sure we will have more to talk about when you return.’
‘OK,’ said Einar. ‘But won’t you have found the murderer by then?’
‘I hope so,’ said Magnus, trying to give his words a confidence he didn’t feel. ‘One last question for you all. Do any of you have any doubts about your documentary? I mean the evidence that Gudrid actually went to Nantucket? What do you think, Suzy?’
‘What has this got to do with the poor girl’s murder?’
‘Please answer the question.’
‘All right,’ said Suzy. ‘I did have some doubts when Eygló first told me about Einar’s discoveries. But the wampum and the Columbus letter back each other up. We might have had our doubts about each one individually, but the combination is convincing. I’m prepared to go with it.’
‘I see. Eygló?’
‘I think it stacks up. The sagas tell us that Gudrid and Thorfinn went somewhere on the east coast of America. There is now more evidence for Nantucket than anywhere else.’
‘Einar?’
The dullness left Einar’s eyes as he looked straight at Magnus. ‘Like Suzy, I am persuaded by the two pieces of independent evidence. We have checked them out as thoroughly as we can. I wouldn’t risk my academic reputation unless I was sure.’
‘What about Carlotta? What did she think?’
‘She was the most enthusiastic of all of us,’ Einar replied. ‘It was she who believed in the Columbus letter when the Vatican wanted to ignore it.’ He smiled sadly. ‘No, Carlotta was certain that Hóp was in Nantucket.’
‘All right, you can go now,’ said Magnus. ‘But if you think of anything that might cast doubt on any of this, let me know, will you?’
They mumbled their assent, and Magnus let them return to Departures.
He was about to follow them when he noticed a phone lying on the table. He picked it up to take it out to whoever had left it, and then he stopped himself.
He sat down and waited.
After a minute or so, there was a knock at the door. It was Eygló.
‘I left my phone,’ she said.
‘On purpose?’
Eygló nodded.
‘What have you got to tell me?’
‘I’ll tell you as long as you promise not to hold me here. I don’t want the others to find out.’
‘I can’t promise that, if what you tell me is directly related to who killed Carlotta.’
‘It isn’t. You asked if we had any doubts about the reliability of the evidence that Gudrid went to Nantucket. But, as I said, I’ll only tell you if you don’t keep me and you let me go back to the others.’
‘Are you scared of something?’ Eygló certainly looked anxious.
‘Look. Do you want me to talk, or do you just want to ask me questions?’
‘OK,’ said Magnus.
‘All right,’ said Eygló. ‘I’ll be quick. It was when we were filming in Nantucket two weeks ago...’
Magnus listened as Eygló explained quickly and succinctly about meeting Nancy Fishburn’s granddaughter and about Kelly’s father’s suspicion that Nancy had planted the wampum at Brattahlíd herself. Then Eygló explained that when Suzy had checked up on the story, Kelly had claimed her father was joking.
‘And you don’t believe her?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
‘I said, no questions. Can I go?’