Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Ashes To Dust

‘No,’ replied Thóra indignantly, wondering if she’d been right to make Bella come along. She had wanted her there as support if it all went wrong and the woman lost control, or even assaulted Thóra. She wasn’t afraid of a woman in her seventies, but she would rather avoid trouble and had thought Bella’s strapping build would have a calming effect. ‘I’ll do it. Just try to look sympathetic. This woman is suffering.’

They heard footsteps approaching and exchanged a glance before turning back to the door. It was Jóhanna, Alda’s sister, who opened it, and she looked surprised to see them. ‘Hello,’ she said uncertainly, looking furtively behind her.

‘Who is it?’ camea shout from inside the house. The voice sounded like an old woman’s.

‘Just some women I know,’ called Jóhanna.

‘Was that your mother?’ asked Thóra, stopping short of standing on tiptoe and peeking over Jóhanna’s shoulder. ‘I came here hoping for a quick chat with her.’

‘It wasn’t a good idea to come here,’ she said. ‘Mother won’t want to talk to you. She’s still absolutely devastated and as long as Markus is a suspect, you’re the enemy. I tried to tell her what you told me, that he was innocent, but she didn’t want to hear it.’

‘What women?’ came another shout from inside the house, closer this time.

Jóhanna looked miserable.‘Just women, Mother,’ she called back. ‘Don’t worry, you don’t know them.’

‘Nonsense,’ camethe loud reply. The woman had reached the hallway. ‘As if I don’t know all the women here in…’ She fell silent when she saw Bella and Thóra on the steps. She edged next to her daughter in the narrow doorway, nudging Jóhanna aside, so that only half of her was visible. ‘Good day,’ she said, drying her hands on a dishtowel that she was holding before extending one to them.‘I am Magnea, Jóhanna’smother.’

‘Hello,’ said Thóra, extending her hand. ‘Thóra Gudmundsdottir. I was actually hoping to meet you.’

‘Oh?’ said the woman, and her face darkened. ‘How can I help you, my dear?’

‘I was hoping to be able to speak to you a bit about your daughter Alda,’ said Thóra, steeling herself.‘I am representing Markus Magnusson, who has been wrongly accused of doing her harm.’

‘Since when is murdering a woman just“doing her harm”?’ hissed the woman. She took a step backwards, pushed Jóhanna out of the way and slammed the door with all her might. The house number on the wooden plate hanging over the door came loose from the impact and dangled sideways. Thóra counted herself lucky that neither she nor Bella had already put a foot across the threshold.

She looked at Bella. ‘Wow,’ said her secretary. ‘It must really suck being a lawyer.’

Thóra tried knocking softly on the door in the hope that the woman would reappear. From inside a muffled shout told them to go away before the police were called. This was pointless, that much was clear, and Thóra and Bella returned to their car. When Thóra was about to start the engine, there was a knock on her window. Jóhanna stood outside, and Thóra rolled it down.

‘I told you this was a bad idea,’she said reproachfully. ‘Now I’ve got to spend what’s left of the weekend calming her down.’ She hugged herself as if she felt cold, though it was unusually warm outside. ‘She’s not herself,’she said. ‘She’s not usually like that.’

Thóra nodded. ‘I understand, don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you, and we wouldn’t have come if I had thought it would go like that.’ This was a white lie, since Thóra had expected precisely this reaction.

Jóhanna stood outside the car shuffling her feet, clearly holding onto something she wanted to say.‘What was in the diaries?’ she asked suddenly. ‘I’ve changed my mind, I want to know.’ She hesitated for a second and straightened up. ‘That is, if they said something about Father.’

‘I’ve been meaning to let you know, but unfortunately I got caught up in other things,’ said Thóra, reproaching herself for not having tried harder to get in touch with the woman.

‘I called once but there was no reply.’ She smiled at Jóhanna.‘The good news is there was nothing bad about your father in the diary.’

Jóhanna nodded. It looked as if tears were forming in her eyes. ‘Good,’ she said, and smiled.‘Good.’

‘There were various other things that I wanted to talk to your mother about, though. For example, there are a number of inconsistencies about where Alda was after the evacuation.’Thóra raised her hand to block the sun, and looked into Jóhanna’s eyes. ‘She wasn’t a boarder at Isafjördur Junior College,’ she said. ‘She was never registered there.’

‘Yes, yes, she was,’ protested Jóhanna. ‘I swear it. My memory can’t have failed me that badly.’

‘Did you ever see her there?’asked Thóra. ‘Did you go to visit her, or did she come home for the holidays?’

Jóhanna seemed to consider the question. ‘I actually don’t remember any visits to her.’ She brightened. ‘Oh, yes, mother went at least once, maybe more.’

‘But Alda never came home? There are all kinds of breaks when you’re at college, long and short,’ said Thóra, trying to keep her voice upbeat. ‘You lived in the Westfjords, not so far away. You’d think she would have come to see her parents now and then. Didn’t she?’ She could tell from Jóhanna’s expression that Alda hadn’t come home, not for a long or a short break. ‘Could Alda have been in hospital?’ she asked carefully. ‘Did she have any kind of nervous disorder, perhaps?’

‘Not to my knowledge,’ said Jóhanna, any happiness she had Displayed at the contents of the diaries now drained from her face. ‘I might not have been told, since I was so young,’ she added sadly.

‘I don’t have evidence of any illness,’ said Thóra. ‘I wanted to ask your mother about it. But I do know for certain that Alda wasn’t in Isafjördur as people suggest, at least not at school there.’

‘What else did you want to ask Mother about?’ asked Jóhanna. She seemed angry now, but not with Thóra. ‘Maybe I can get her to talk. I’ll ask her about the school, at least.’

‘One of the things I wanted to know, which also concerns you, was whether Alda ever said anything to either of you about being opposed to the excavations. That would help Markus,’ said Thóra. She didn’t tell Jóhanna why Alda wouldn’t have wanted Markus’s house to rise from the ashes.

‘She didn’t,’ said Jóhanna, shaking her head. ‘Not to me, at least. She might have said something to our mother. Mother and I have a lot to discuss. Is there anything else I might need to know?’

Thóra told her about the peculiar entries in Alda’s diary. She decided not to mention what she knew about the rape case, and instead asked whether Jóhannahad heard Alda talk about it. ‘Did she ever mention a man by the name of Adolf to you? Or his parents, Valgerdur and Dadi?’

‘I’ve never heard them mentioned.’

‘You aren’t familiar with them from your childhood?’ asked Thóra. ‘I had the impression they were friends of your parents for a time. They were from the Islands, and they also moved to the Westfjords – to a farmhouse near Holmavik, I think. The woman was a nurse.’

‘We lived in Bildudalur,’ said Jóhanna. ‘It’s a long way from Holmavik. I’ve never heard of these people. Not that I remember, anyway.’

Thóra took out the picture of the young man, which she had wanted to show to Alda’s mother. And do you recognize this man at all?‘ she asked.

Jóhanna took the piece of paper.‘Is this a photocopy?’ she asked, and Thóra nodded apologetically. Jóhanna held it by its edge and peered at the subject. ‘No,’ she said, handing it back. ‘I feel like he’s familiar somehow, but I don’t know who he is.’