My Soul to Take: A Novel of Iceland Read online

  Thora had opened the closet mostly out of curiosity, as she'd never expected to find anything important there. She had stuck a pencil through the handle to open the door, so as not to leave fingerprints. She needn't have bothered, because all the contents told her was that Birna was an exceptionally tidy person. There weren't many items of clothing: blouses, smarter trousers, and jackets were on clothes hangers, and the other garments were neatly arranged on the shelves. The woman must have worked in a boutique at some point, as they were all folded perfectly. Birna had good taste; her clothes were unpretentious but stylish and looked expensive. Thora tried to peek at the label on a sweater at the top of the stack, but couldn't read it without disturbing the pile. Closing the closet, she went over to the telephone on one of the bedside tables. She used her fingernail to press the recall button and see the last numbers she had dialed, then took a blank sheet of paper from the hotel notepad beside the telephone and wrote down the three numbers. She folded the sheet of paper and put it in her pocket.

  Looking around, she saw nothing that merited closer examination except the desk drawer. She had already gingerly shuffled the papers on the desk, but was none the wiser for it. They all seemed to be connected with the design of the annex, mainly brochures from manufacturers of construction materials. Thora nudged the desk chair to one side with her foot to reach the drawer. Now she faced a problem, because there was no handle on it. Pulling her sleeve over her right hand, she opened the drawer by tugging it from underneath. It contained two books: the New Testament and a leatherbound diary with Birna's name on it. At last she had found something useful. Still using her sleeve, Thora fished the book up out of the drawer. She flipped it open. Bingo. The pages were filled with neat handwriting. Thora grinned, but then her smile vanished. She could hear noises in the corridor, just outside the door.

  In desperation she looked around. She had to get out. She couldn't possibly explain what she was doing there—she didn't even know herself. She ran over to the floor-length curtains and prayed that all the rooms were the same. Fortunately for her, they were, and with trembling hands she unlocked the French window and stepped out on to the deck. Then she pushed the door closed as carefully as she could and hurried away.

  As Thora rounded the corner of the building, she took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding. What had she been thinking? She must be insane. It had been a close call; she was certain she had heard the room door open just as she had closed the balcony door behind her. She inhaled deeply again. Her heartbeat slowed down, then leaped once more. The desk drawer! She had left it open. She tried to calm herself. So what? Everyone would assume Birna had left it like that. She sagged in relief, then jumped again—in her hands she was still holding a diary marked "Birna Halldorsdottir, Association of Icelandic Architects."

  Chapter 5

  As the Police car pulled slowly out of the drive, Jonas felt that the officers had done all they could to prolong their visit. They must have known that the sooner they left, the fewer visitors would have noticed them. He heaved a sigh of relief when the car finally disappeared from sight, praying they would not need to come back. He knew his prayers wouldn't be answered. They had sealed off Birna's room, after a quick look inside to check she wasn't there, and ordered Jonas to make sure that no one went in until it had been searched. Clearly Jonas had not seen the last of them.

  His only hope was that the dead woman would turn out not to be Birna, but that was wishful thinking. Before leaving the scene, the police officers had asked Jonas to point out her car in the car park. It was a dark blue Audi Sport, which she had recently bought, and was parked at the very end of the car park. Birna always parked as far away from other cars as possible, to reduce the likelihood of careless drivers opening their doors and scratching her pride and joy. The policemen had walked up to the car, and one of them had produced a little plastic bag from his pocket. Without opening the bag, he had pointed it at the car and squeezed its contents. The sports car had beeped and flashed. The police officers exchanged meaningful looks.

  Jonas sighed. It was a very uncomfortable situation. Should he allow himself to grieve? He had liked Birna despite her flaws, and if he was honest with himself, he had been rather more than fond of her, although his affection had not been reciprocated. Should he feel aggrieved? This was a major setback for his plans to expand the hotel.

  Should he tell the staff or act as though nothing had happened? The police hadn't advised him either way. He had to be careful, because many people would undoubtedly scrutinize his reaction and interpret it to fit whatever stories were circulating. It was a small place and his staff were not known for their discretion. He sighed again. Perhaps the police would rule it an accident, but nothing in their behavior suggested that.

  Jonas turned and went inside. He hurried past reception to avoid being stopped by anyone. His ploy worked, but it was obvious just looking at Kata, propped up against the reception desk, that she was burning to know what the police had said. The beautician opened her mouth as soon as Jonas entered the building, but when he looked down and quickened his pace, she closed it again. She and Vigdis, the receptionist, watched despondently as he rushed past without saying a word. It wouldn't last long—in the end curiosity would get the better of them, even if they had to chase him down the corridor—but so far so good, Jonas thought, as he hurried into his office and closed the door behind him. He sat down, brooding. Maybe some good would come of this. Was there a chance that this tragedy could be spun in favor of the hotel, and Jonas himself? He picked up the telephone and dialed a number.

  Thora sat sheepishly on the edge of her bed. Birna’s Diary rested in her lap. She had not decided what to do with it, whether to sneak it back into Birna's room or whether she could plant it somewhere without arousing suspicion. Should she get rid of the book immediately or wait until she had read it? Her cheeks burned when she thought that Birna might well still be alive. What had she been thinking? Was she so bored by her postbox-obsessed clients and all the other nitpickers that she was starting to make more exciting cases out of nothing? She had come here to dissuade a half-crazy hotel owner from pointless litigation, not to become embroiled in a police investigation that was none of her business. The telephone rang and she reached for it, welcoming the distraction.

  "Could you pop in and see me?" Jonas said cryptically. "Something unexpected has cropped up and it might be connected with the hauntings."

  "What is it?" asked Thora, intrigued.

  "I'll explain when you come, but I think Birna, the architect, is dead and—"

  "I'll be there in ten minutes," Thora interrupted him, and hung up.

  Well, well. She turned from the telephone to look back at the diary. In a way she was relieved: at least she had not stolen the diary from a living person. She opened the book with her sleeve and flicked through the pages using the edge of her thumb. It was certainly an unusual diary. Instead of containing a few notes, each page was densely packed with small, tight handwriting. There were a lot of sketches of houses, buildings, and design details. Some of the sketches seemed to be rough doodles from Birna's imagination; others looked more likely to be real-life projects. One page per day had clearly not been enough for Birna, because she had filled the pages well into September—four months ahead.

  Thora looked at the last entries, hoping to find something along the lines of "Met X on the beach—must be careful," but no such luck. The final two-page spread said, "Bergur's birthday—mustn't forget. Transfer money for April," and listed a welter of names of companies that Thora didn't recognize. Beside each name was a telephone number with measurements in millimeters followed by prices in kronur. At the very end of each line was a string of different abbreviations that she couldn't fathom: "B., W., R., G., S., etc." At the top of the page, she had written "Cladding," underlined. Birna had apparently been seeking information about different types of cladding and had marked a cross against the line showing one of the lowest prices. Since the cladding could not be c
onnected with the woman's death, a rather frustrated Thora flicked back to the preceding pages. There was a plan showing, as far as Thora could tell, the area surrounding the hotel and the location of the new building. The main measurements and distances had been written in, and an ornate arrow pointed north. Around the drawing were comments by Birna, mainly concerning the slope of the land and light conditions, but one aroused Thora's interest in particular: "What's wrong with this spot??? Old plans???" Just beneath, written with another pen, it said, "Keens," also followed by three question marks. She was none the wiser. A detailed sketch of a swastika amid a list of everyday objects on the following page did not help. If the notebook was anything to go by, Birna had definitely not been your average woman.

  Although Thora would have liked to read the diary from cover to cover, she had to go to see Jonas. He knew she had nothing better to do, so it would be hard to explain being late. All the same, she flicked back until she found another, similar drawing. This showed the floor plan of a house, two adjacent rectangles divided up into rooms. A staircase was shown in the same place on both, so it must be a two-story house. The rooms were clearly marked: two living rooms, kitchen, study, bedroom, toilet, and so on. Various comments filled the margins, such as "Built in 1920? Rising damp in SW wall. Foundations?" Birna had also written down a question that must have been plaguing her, because she had drawn a crosshatched box around it: "Who was Kristin?" Thora looked at the floor plan. One of the rooms on the upper floor was marked "Bedroom" like the other two, but beneath it was written in smaller letters, "Kristin?" Thora scanned the two pages in search of any indication that the drawing showed one of the local houses, and saw that the top of the left-hand page was marked "Kreppa," the name of one of the farms. She closed the diary and slid it inside her suitcase. The cleaners would hardly start rummaging around in there.

  Jonas seemed worried, and not his usual expansive self. He offered Thora one of the two uncomfortable seats in front of his desk, then threw himself down in an upholstered leather chair behind it. No herbal tea was offered, much to Thora's relief.

  "What did the police want, Jonas?" Thora asked, to break the ice.

  Jonas groaned. "Does everyone know they were here?"

  "Well, I can't answer for everybody, but a lot of people know besides me. Most people know a policeman when they see one," replied Thora. "What did they want?"

  Jonas groaned again, louder than before. From under his sleeve he pulled down a steel bracelet set with a large brown stone, which he rubbed absentmindedly as he answered her question. "They found a body on the beach, the body of a woman they believe to be Birna, the architect I told you about yesterday." He closed his eyes, still slowly rubbing the bracelet.

  "Ah," said Thora. "Did they mention the cause of death? There can be many reasons for people being found dead on a beach. More often than not it's suicide."

  "I don't think she committed suicide," Jonas said morosely. "She wasn't the type."

  Thora didn't like to point out that there was no particular type that took their own lives. "What did the police say? That's the most important thing. Presumably they've visited the scene?"

  Jonas tore his attention away from his bracelet and looked at Thora. "They said nothing specific. It was more the way they acted and what they didn't say." He looked back at his wrist. "If she'd drowned, for example, fallen on to a rock, something that suggested an accident, they would definitely have asked me about her behavior. You know—did she do a lot of hiking? Kayaking? Swimming in the sea? But they asked me nothing. All they wanted to know was whether anything was missing from here and whether I recognized her from the very rough description they gave." Jonas suddenly stared at Thora. "Now that I think of it, it was extremely strange that they made no mention of her facial features. Do you suppose the head was missing?" Before Thora could answer, he corrected himself: "No, hardly, they described the hair color." His eyes widened. "Could it be that the killer cut the head off, scalped it, and put the hair on top of the body?"

  Thora put an end to his conjecture. "I think you're letting your imagination run away with you. But I do agree that it sounds as if they suspect it was something more than an accident." Casually, she added, "Did the police examine her room?"

  "One of them took a look inside. The other waited outside in the corridor with me. He was only in there for a minute or two. Then when he came out again, he just shook his head."

  "So he didn't say that any unauthorized person had been in there or ask you who had a key?" Thora's cheeks flushed slightly.

  "No, nothing like that. They absolutely forbade anyone to enter until the CID had finished its work. Then they asked to see her car. They had the key in a little bag."

  Thora nodded thoughtfully. There was really no question of the dead woman's identity. "Well, I never." Looking at Jonas, she suppressed the urge to ask him to stop fiddling with the damn bracelet. It probably had some connection with alternative medicine, energy fields or something. "Did anyone want Birna dead? Was she in some kind of trouble?"

  Jonas shook his head slowly. "No, she was just normal." Thora couldn't imagine what he considered normal, but assumed that his criteria were different from hers. "A great person and a brilliant architect." Jonas smiled awkwardly. "Actually, she was a true Capricorn, consistent and committed. But a lovely person. A genuinely lovely person."

  "Didn't anyone really dislike her?" Thora asked. "Can't you think of anyone who could have got into a dispute with her, something that could have got out of hand?"

  Jonas pushed his bracelet back under his sleeve and gave Thora his undivided attention. "Listen, I was wondering if it might be connected with the ghost."

  Thora managed not to smile. "Are you implying that a ghost murdered her?"

  Jonas shrugged, then waved his hands. "What do I know? It seems like more than a coincidence. This place is haunted. Birna is found dead just outside. She was working on modifying the premises. Ghosts want to keep their surroundings the same as when they left them. They fight with all their powers against any kind of disruption. What are you supposed to believe?"

  Not a paranormal enthusiast, Thora had never heard much about the behavior of spirits. "Jonas, I think we can rule out involvement by a ghost."

  "Are you sure?" the hotelier asked. "Birna was very curious about the history of this place. She felt that she had to find out about it, because without that knowledge it was hard for her to get a feel for the site. We can't rule out her stirring up the angry spirit of a deceased inhabitant, which cost her her life. Maybe not directly, but perhaps indirectly." He went on, seeing that Thora was lost for words. "There might not be a direct connection, but the situation now is this: this place is haunted, and the sellers concealed that fact. A woman has met a tragic death—perhaps because of something connected with the ghost. That will be difficult to rule out, because it can always be claimed that the murderer was governed by forces from beyond. Are you with me?"

  Thora could only shake her head.

  "Yes, don't you see? You tell the sellers that a woman has died here and there are stories that a ghost has played a major role. The whole business will be brought up in court. My feeling is that those people wouldn't care to be linked to a murder, if only indirectly. Would you like to be a witness in a murder case in which the defense implied that you had kept quiet about information that led to such an atrocity?" Jonas shook his head on Thora's behalf. "No, you wouldn't care for that. Nor would they. That might persuade them to negotiate compensation terms."

  Thora interrupted him. "What difference would it make if you won compensation? You're stuck with the hotel. Presumably you don't want to break the contract at this stage? If you're serious about this ghost, I doubt whether you can bribe it to leave."

  Jonas smiled. "Of course I can't. But I imagine I'll have to raise my staff's wages so that they don't all quit. They are spiritual people, sensitive toward supernatural matters. Some of them have already dropped hints about leaving. My business plan wo
uld be ruined and the small profit I was hoping for might easily be wiped out. Guests at places like this are sensitive too. They don't seek the company of beings from beyond, especially not if it could cost them their lives."

  Thora needed a while to digest this. She had no desire to force people to strike a deal by making absurd threats about linking their names to a murder, but Jonas's claims about his staff were a concrete contribution. "Let me think it over." She was about to stand up, then decided to stay put. "Actually, you still have to tell me all about this ghost. How exactly does it manifest itself?"

  Jonas sighed. "Gosh, I don't know where to begin."

  "At the beginning, perhaps," suggested Thora, a little irritated.

  "Yes, that's probably best," agreed Jonas, brushing off Thora's slight. "As I told you, most of the staff here are more sensitive than ordinary people."

  Thora nodded.

  "They started sensing an uncomfortable presence. If I remember correctly, it was the aura reader—his name's Eirikur—who first noticed it. Then others became aware of it gradually. I brought up the rear, really. At first I thought it was just their imaginations." Jonas regarded Thora gravely. "It's almost impossible to describe it to anyone who can't sense these things, but I can tell you it's by no means a pleasant feeling. Probably the best analogy is when you feel you're being watched. As if someone's sitting watching you from a dark corner. That's the way I've felt, anyway."

  His story only strengthened Thora's conviction that this was a case of mass hysteria. One person had started a vague story and others had joined in until what they imagined had become a fact. "Jonas," she said firmly, "you have to do better than this. Your claim is absolutely no use to me—I can't face the sellers of this property and repeat what you've just said. We need something tangible. It's not enough to say you get the occasional shiver down your spine."