My Soul to Take: A Novel of Iceland Page 4

  He straightened up, since there was little he could do for the person under the seaweed. He could see the outline of a body under the weed, and patches of white flesh were showing through. Once he had discerned the shape of it, it was so obvious that he was amazed he hadn't noticed it immediately. Since he never took his mobile with him, there wasn't much he could do but rush home and call the police. Perhaps the coast guard should be called out as well. They would enjoy being involved. He breathed through the sleeve of his coat to stave off the smell of blood, then stiffened. He recognized the ring on the swollen finger.

  Bergur fell to his knees. Oblivious to the smell, he grabbed the ice-cold hand to be certain. Yes, that was her ring. He moaned and began to tear the seaweed away from where he imagined the head to be, but stopped when he realized there was no face. He could tell from the corpse's familiar hair that his dream of a happy new life was over.

  Thora was trying to unwind. Lying on her stomach, She made an effort to relax, or rather to concentrate on appearing relaxed, because she didn't want the masseuse to think otherwise. The latter was a stringy, muscular woman, slightly younger than Thora. She was wearing white canvas trousers, a pale green T-shirt, and orthopedic sandals on her feet. She had painted her toenails with light blue polish. Thora did not make a habit of scrutinizing that part of people's anatomy, but the toes kept appearing as she lay on the bench with her face positioned in a hole at one end.

  The worst of it was over; the woman had stopped massaging and begun arranging hot stones in a row down her backbone. "Now you should feel how the energy from the stones flows through your back. It travels along the nerves and out into every part of you." This speech was accompanied by soothing music from a CD the masseuse had told Thora was on sale in reception. Thora decided to look in at reception and find out the name of the group, to make sure she never bought one of their CDs by accident.

  "Will it be much longer?" Thora asked hopefully. "I think the energy's penetrated every single cell. I'm beginning to feel great."

  "What?" The masseuse was incredulous. "Are you sure? It's supposed to take a lot longer."

  Thora suppressed a groan. "Positive. It's brilliant. I can tell I'm done."

  The masseuse began to protest, but stopped when a telephone rang somewhere inside the salon. "Just a minute," she said to Thora, and her toes disappeared.

  "Hello," Thora heard her say. "I've got a client." A long silence ensued. Then, in a much more agitated tone of voice, "What? Are you serious... ? Jesus...I'm on my way."

  The masseuse hurried back in and began removing the stones from Thora's back. Thora tried to conceal her relief by taking an interest in the telephone call. "Is anything wrong? Don't worry about me; I'm all done, like I said."

  The woman was working quickly. "Something's happened. Something terrible. Really terrible."

  Thora propped herself up. "Really?" she asked, not needing to feign curiosity this time. "Is it something to do with the ghosts?"

  An expression of horror spread across the woman's face and she put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, I hadn't thought of that. A body's been found on the beach. Vigdis from reception thinks it's someone from here, and the police have arrived to talk to Jonas."

  Thora leaped naked from the bench and reached for a gown. She quickly pulled it on, never having been in the habit of going around nude in the company of strangers, although she was not ashamed of her body. "You get going—I'll take care of myself." She tightened the flannel belt around her waist and tied a knot. "Was it an accident?"

  "I don't know," the masseuse said, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. Clearly she was itching to go and find out more.

  "I'll get my things together and leave," Thora said, shooing the woman off. "I promise not to steal any stones."

  The woman didn't need telling twice. She turned on her heel and rushed out into the corridor. Thora went up to the screen she'd undressed behind and began putting her clothes back on. Her mobile rang in her bag and she fished it out. "Hello," she said, trying to put on a sock with one hand. The connection was appalling and the line crackled.

  "Hello, Thora." It was Matthew. "I'm still waiting for a reply to my e-mail."

  "Oh, yes," Thora said in German, abandoning her struggle with the sock. "I'm just about to answer."

  "Name the date. I'll do the rest," said Matthew. He clearly intended to come no matter what. "Give me the green light and I'll be there."

  "It's rather inconvenient at the moment," Thora answered reluctantly. "I'm working and something's cropped up."

  "What has?" asked Matthew, clearly unconvinced. "Tell me."

  "Yes, well, it's all rather peculiar," Thora said, racking her brain to remember the German word for "ghost." "I'm working on a case connected with ghosts, but it seems as though it may be getting more complicated. The police have found a body and it may stir things up."

  "Where are you?" asked Matthew.

  "Me?" Thora replied foolishly. "I'm in the countryside."

  "Don't go anywhere. I'll be there tomorrow night." His voice was solemn.

  "Wait, it's all right. Don't come here," Thora gabbled. "There's no murder, only a body." She hesitated. "As far as I know, anyway."

  "I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow," said the voice from the handset.

  "But you don't even know where I am, and I'm not going to tell you. Wait a few days and let me find a better time. I promise. I want to see you too. Just not right now."

  "You don't have to tell me where you are. I'll find you. Auf Wiedersehen."

  Thora couldn't argue anymore. Matthew had hung up.

  Chapter 4

  When she was dressed, Thora decided to go straight to reception in the hope of finding out more about the body. On her way out, she noticed a bunch of keys the masseuse had left behind in her haste. She decided to hand it in at reception, as an excuse for going there. She strode quickly down the corridor, feeling pleased with herself.

  There was no sign of the masseuse in the lobby. A young woman was leaning over the reception desk, deep in a whispered conversation with her colleague behind the counter. She was disturbingly thin and the snow-white tunic she wore over her matching trousers did little to conceal it. Thora stood beside her and smiled at the two women in the hope of being allowed to join in. She was far from welcome; both looked most displeased to see her, but they recovered themselves and gave her frosty smiles. For a short while she pretended to look at a poster behind the reception desk advertising a seance the previous evening with a well-known medium from Reykjavik. Then she turned back to the others, smiling pleasantly.

  "Hi," Thora said, to break the ice. Her curiosity got the better of her and she forgot the charade with the keys. "I heard about the body that was found on the beach."

  The women exchanged glances and seemed to come to a silent agreement. The thin one turned to her. "It's just awful," she said emphatically, her eyes wide. "You know the cops are here?" Removing her elbow from the counter, she stretched out her hand for Thora to shake. "I'm Kata, the beautician." Her teeth shone pearly white.

  Thora greeted her, surprised at the strength of her grip considering her size. "I'm Thora. I'm looking into a little matter for Jonas. I'm not really a guest."

  The receptionist nodded. "Oh, yeah, he mentioned it to me. I'm Vigdis, the reception manager. You're one of those lawyers, right?"

  Not knowing exactly what "one of those" meant in this context, Thora nodded. "That's right." Looking around, she saw through the glass entrance doors that a police car was still outside. "Where did the police go?"

  Vigdis pointed to the right and whispered, although no one else was nearby. "They wanted to talk to Jonas." She leaned back in her chair and raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. "He wasn't even surprised when I told him."

  "What did the police say?" Thora asked. "He might not have realized what the matter involved."

  Vigdis blushed slightly. "Well, no," she said reluctantly. "They didn't say anything to m
e really, just asked for Jonas."

  "So how do you know there's a body?" asked Kata, the beautician, who was clearly no fool.

  Vigdis's cheeks grew redder. "I heard them say it. I showed them to Jonas's office, and when they introduced themselves, they stated their business with him."

  Thora was certain that the woman had put her ear up to the door. "Did they say anything about how this person died?" she asked. "Was the body washed ashore, or what?"

  "And was it a man or a woman?" the beautician interjected. "Did they say?"

  "It was a woman, apparently," replied Vigdis, the flush leaving her cheeks. She clearly enjoyed holding all the cards, and when she started speaking again, she drew out every word for maximum effect. "They didn't mention the cause of death exactly, but I swear they were implying that it was unnatural." She took a deep, dramatic breath. Kata put her hand to her mouth, her colleague's theatrics clearly producing the desired response.

  "Why did they come here?" Thora pressed. "Was the body found on the beach?"

  Vigdis nodded slowly and pointed to a window overlooking the open sea below. "I don't know exactly where, but it was in this area. Down there somewhere."

  Thora and Kata looked out of the window. The weather outside was relatively calm and it was still bright daylight despite it being late. The beach itself was hidden from view because the lawn outside the window was a little above sea level.

  "How could it have been directly below here?" asked Thora, turning away from the window. "Surely you would have noticed if the police had been active in that area."

  Vigdis shrugged. "A huge amount of land belongs to the old farm and you can't see the whole beach from here by any means. The headland over there is one reason." She pointed to a hill through the window. "The farthest point west is on the other side of that hill, and we can't see it from here. That part can be reached by road from elsewhere."

  Thora and Kata stared at the hill as if hoping to see through it. Then Thora nodded slowly. "Weren't there originally two farms here, on two separate plots of land?" Vigdis shrugged. Thora continued, "As far as I recall, there were two plots of farmland owned by two brothers, but one of them died childless so the other one inherited it. Then he merged them into one. That would explain the question of access. Generally there's only one driveway up to each farm, not two. Do you suppose the boundary lay across that hill?" Looking back, she saw that neither woman was remotely interested.

  "Sure," Kata said, turning back to her friend. "But who is the dead woman? Did they say anything about that?"

  "I don't think they have the faintest idea. When they came, they asked me how many guests were registered at the hotel and if any were missing." She grinned conspiratorially at her audience. "I just told them the truth—that I had no idea. This is a hotel, not a prison." Then addressing Thora, she added, "The guests have keys that they can take out with them. They don't drop off the keys with me, so it's pure chance whether I notice their movements. They seldom talk to me, unless they're going for a hike and want guidance about routes."

  "It has to be that drunk couple in number eighteen, either him or the wife. I've not seen either of them for two days," Kata said disapprovingly.

  Vigdis shook her head. "No, the kitchen sent food up to their room just a while back. And drinks." She emphasized the latter firmly. "The woman just phoned down to ask for room service. She said they'd been indisposed and had slept the whole day."

  Kata snorted. "Indisposed, my arse. They were either hungover or pissed."

  Thora could tell that there was little more of any use to be gained from the two women. She was generally not interested in gossip, especially about people she didn't know from Adam, so she decided to take her leave and put her hand in her pocket for the key chain. "I have some keys here that my masseuse left behind." Thora handed over the bunch of keys, which were on a key ring with a small enameled Icelandic flag.

  "Sibba, you mean," Vigdis said, stretching for the keys across the counter. "She can be incredibly absentminded." She noticed a large plastic card dangling from the patriotic ring. "Oh, my God, she's even got the master here. She's a real—" Exactly what she was was to remain a mystery, because the telephone rang. Vigdis turned to answer it.

  Glancing at Kata, Thora took the keys back. "I'll just return them to her myself. I forgot to book another session, so I have to talk to her anyway." She smiled innocently at the young woman. "Do you know where she might be?"

  The beautician shrugged. "Maybe in the cafeteria." She pointed at a corridor to the right. "It's next to the kitchen."

  Thora thanked her, then added, "Do you know what room Birna's in? The architect? I wanted to say hello to her."

  Kata shook her head, but reached over for a book behind the reception desk. Vigdis was still busy on the telephone and paid no attention to them. "Birna, Birna..." Delicate fingers with long French-manicured nails ran down the page. "Aha. Here it is." She slammed the book shut. "She's in room five. It's on the way. She's definitely here because her car's parked outside. It's really flash."

  "That's nice," said Thora, who was not particularly interested in cars. "Thanks very much. I might drop in to your salon tomorrow. I could do with a bit of plucking." The young woman nodded, rather too vehemently in Thora's opinion.

  On her way down the corridor, various thoughts ran through Thora's mind. What the hell was she thinking? She couldn't assume the dead woman was Jonas's missing architect. In all probability it was a completely different woman. And who was this Birna anyway? There was no excuse for going into her room. Thora thought it over on her way, but the closer she came to room 5, the more determined she became to look inside. If it turned out that Birna was the woman on the beach, this would presumably be Thora's only chance to examine her room. If the circumstances of death were suspicious, the police would seal it off. She tried to persuade herself that she had to take advantage of this opportunity, as Jonas's lawyer. Perhaps he would be a suspect. Eventually she convinced herself that she was doing nothing wrong. She simply wanted to put her head around the door and take a look. Nothing else.

  Thora stopped outside the door and looked around her. The women at reception, deep in conversation, didn't notice her. She swiped the plastic key card, opened the door, and darted inside.

  Jonas tried to act like an innocent hotelier,but was finding the role increasingly difficult. He had an instinctive dislike of the police, which had always appeared to be mutual on the rare occasions when their paths crossed. Police officers also had a tendency to look deep into his eyes while they talked to him, and Jonas had the feeling they had been trained to evaluate the truthfulness of replies from the movement of the pupils. He knew he was blinking far too much, which wasn't making a good impression.

  He cleared his throat. "As I told you, the description could fit the architect Birna, but it's much too general to say for certain. Wasn't the woman carrying any ID, a bag or something?" He stretched toward the window behind him. "Don't you find it hot in here? Should I open the window?" Jonas was afraid that sweat would start pouring from his brow to complete the picture of a guilty man.

  The police officers exchanged a look. They seemed to be keeping their cool in spite of being clad in full regalia, black uniforms with gold braid. Ignoring the stifling heat in the room, they had not taken off their jackets. They were holding their caps, however. Disregarding Jonas's inquiries about the window and the ID, they went on questioning him. "When was she last seen, this Birna?"

  "I don't know exactly," Jonas replied, searching through his memory. "She was here yesterday, definitely."

  "So you saw her yesterday?" asked the younger officer. He looked like a tough guy, and Jonas preferred the older one, who appeared to be a softer type in all respects.

  "What?" Jonas asked rather idiotically, then hurried to add, "What, yes. I met up with her. Several times in fact. She was struggling to complete the plans for the annex that's to be built here and came to me throughout the day to consult me on variou
s points."

  The officers nodded in unison. After biting the inside of his cheek for a few moments, the older one asked, "What about today? Did she come and see you today?"

  Jonas shook his head fervently. "No. Definitely not. We were supposed to meet this morning only she didn't turn up. I've been keeping an eye out for her but haven't bumped into her or seen her. I kept calling her mobile, but it was switched off. I just got her voice mail."

  "What kind of mobile did she have? Can you describe it?" the younger man asked.

  Jonas did not need to think about that question. Birna's mobile was very distinctive. He had seen her with it many times. "It's bright red, a clamshell phone. Shiny. Quite small. I don't know the make, though. There was a big silver peace sign on the front, but I don't think it was

  a brand logo, just a decoration." The police officers darted glances at each other, then stood up together. Jonas stayed seated. He was feeling more confident after finally being able to answer one of their questions. "This woman who was found . . . did she die in an accident?"

  Neither of the officers answered him. "Would you please show us to Birna Halldorsdottir's room?"

  Thora took a last look around the room. She had not found anything significant. Admittedly it was different from other hotel rooms, because the architect had clearly moved in for longer than most people. She had fixed sketches of buildings—which Thora presumed to be proposals for the annex that Jonas had said he was planning to build—to the walls. Notes had been scrawled on several of the drawings, some of them comprehensible to a layman, others not. Calculations had been made in some of the margins, and the sums were underlined in red ink. The figures were large ones, and Thora hoped for Jonas's sake that they were not cost estimates.