Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Someone to Watch Over Me

‘Maybe he’s avoiding the police for some other reason; maybe he’s suspected of something and doesn’t want to talk?’ Matthew wiped the melting snowflakes from his forehead before the water ran into his eyes. ‘This could just be coincidence.’

‘I doubt it.’ Thóra watched Sóley splash water playfully at Orri, who shrieked with delight. ‘From the way the policeman sounded, it seemed serious.’

‘Well, there aren’t many things more serious than cold-blooded murder.’

‘Sure, sure, but the police mentioned a death and there was nothing in the news about any accidental deaths. So it must be related to the fire. Anything else would be too much of a coincidence. On the other hand, Margeir was ruled out as being the father of Lísa’s child, so it can’t be anything to do with that aspect of the case. Not unless the tests were never actually carried out and Glódís was lying to me when she said she’d seen the results of the tests on the night watchmen.’

‘Surely the tests were done? The night watchmen must have been the prime suspects.’

‘Yes, it would have been ridiculous to seriously suspect anyone else. I’m just a bit paranoid. However much the paternity tests cost, the night watchmen must have been included. Unless a decision was made not to investigate the rape; if they’d been planning to bury the matter anyway, it would have been pointless to waste time and money trying to find the guilty party.’ The steam in the children’s pool had thickened and Thóra sat up to get a better view. ‘I’ve also been thinking a lot about what Ægir said about Tryggvi’s therapy and the way it ended. And after what he said about the drawings, I’m extremely keen to find them – especially given what you sensed from Lena. The fact that Glódís won’t let me see the pictures makes me even more bothered about not having access to them.’ Thóra had got in touch with Glódís straight after her meeting with Ægir and been told that Thóra’s visit had reminded her that there were still files around that should have been handed over long ago. It wasn’t appropriate, as far as the relatives were concerned, for an unrelated party to have access to such files and thus it was out of the question to give them to Thóra when they were finally returned. The pictures would go straight to Tryggvi’s parents.

‘But are you sure they won’t let you look at the pictures once they’ve got them back?’

‘I don’t think so, and if that’s the case, how can I be sure they won’t just remove any pictures that depict precisely what I’m looking for – a connection to the fire or to Lísa? Maybe there are pictures of her naked, who knows?’ Thóra pulled herself up even higher in the water as she noticed Sóley and Orri looking like they wanted to get out of the pool. ‘Given his paternity test was negative, it’s highly unlikely, of course; but he could have drawn a picture of the man who impregnated her, seen the deed through the doorway.’ She stood up and waved to the children in order to ensure that they could make their way the short distance over to her. ‘But considering the primitive appearance of the figures he drew, I don’t know how useful they’d be in finding the person who forced himself on Lísa.’

Sóley led Orri to the hot tub; steam drifted up from the children’s bodies but by the time they reached the tub they were starting to shiver. ‘Is this tub horribly hot?’ Sóley stuck one foot just slightly into the water and pulled it straight back out.

‘It feels like it at first. Jump in before you get covered in icicles.’ They did as Thóra said but it wasn’t long before Orri’s eyelids started to droop. His blond head sunk to his chest and there was nothing for it but to go home.

In the changing room Thóra and Sóley had to take turns keeping Orri awake while the other one got dressed. He sat on the bench wrapped in a towel, struggling to keep his eyes open. Thóra checked her phone to see if her mother had tried to call; she had said she’d let Thóra know if she needed anything from the shops. When she saw on the screen that she had indeed received a message, her heart sank a little; she would have preferred to go straight home. The message wasn’t from her mother, however, or from ja.is, and since her mother wasn’t particularly familiar with the Internet, Thóra suspected Gylfi had sent the message on his grandmother’s behalf. He was careful with his minutes and wouldn’t have wasted any krónur talking about something as boring as food shopping. She opened the message on the way out of the changing room: Facebook.com final goodbye friðleifur

Although Thóra had registered on Facebook when her old law school class had created a page for their graduation anniversary party, she hardly ever logged on to it. She had terrible trouble with this form of social media, which seemed purely designed to fill her inbox with endless announcements. Matthew was worse than she was, having refused to even register on the site back before the novelty wore off for Thóra. As usual, after dinner she’d asked Gylfi to help her investigate this strange message, rather than spend hours in front of the computer in the hope that Facebook would finally let her in.

‘Why didn’t you just choose a password you knew you could remember?’ Gylfi pushed the keyboard towards his mother, frustrated and amazed.

‘Calm down, I’ve got it here.’ Thóra opened a file where she kept usernames and passwords. She was very happy with this system, which had often proved useful. ‘Here you go.’ She pushed the keyboard back to Gylfi and pointed at the password.

‘That’s the worst password you could choose,’ he muttered, typing in Thóra123. ‘And you’d have to be pretty stupid not to remember it.’ He shook his head in amazement. ‘Not to mention keeping this kind of file in the first place.’

‘Yes, okay. Let’s get on with it.’ Thóra moved her chair sideways slightly so that Matthew, who was standing behind them, could see better.

‘Oh, what fun! Are you playing a computer game?’ Thóra’s mother stood in the doorway to the study. All three of them turned and nodded. It was easier than explaining what they were actually doing. ‘Not some war game, I hope.’ She left before they had an opportunity to respond.

‘It’s a shame Grandpa and Grandma aren’t staying here permanently,’ said Gylfi, turning to Thóra’s Facebook page, which was now open. ‘It would be fun if they lived with us all the time.’ The cursor arrow swept across the screen. ‘You have six friend requests, one event invitation, and seven friend recommendations. And you’ve got a hundred and thirty-two other requests. You’re obviously on here a lot.’

‘Very funny.’ It had probably been more than a month since Thóra had logged on. ‘Check whether any of it’s related to Friðleifur. Maybe I have a friend request from him.’

‘But he’s dead.’ Matthew was watching with interest, since he’d never seen this kind of webpage. ‘Is that possible?’

‘Yes, if someone keeps his page going and knows his username and password. I don’t know whether a member’s death would necessarily be reported to Facebook. You could of course send them an e-mail and ask that the page be closed if you notice anything unusual, but I don’t know how you go about that. Still, I’m sure his friends would have reported it if his page were kept going after his death.’ Gylfi checked Thóra’s friend requests, but none of them was from Friðleifur. ‘He isn’t here, or under friend recommendations. Maybe there’s something in events.’ He opened the notifications page and started scrolling down the extremely long list. ‘No, nothing here either.’

‘Isn’t it possible to search for him?’ Thóra tried unsuccessfully to spot something on the screen that fell under the category ‘search engine’.