Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Last Rituals

"So Harald could transport it from one country to another as he pleased?" asked Thora.

Matthew smiled. "I imagine they would have gladly let him take it even if he hadn't inherited it. I think Harald's parents were simply relieved to get rid of even a small part of it from their household."

Thora nodded. "Is this chair from the collection?" She pointed to the old wooden chair positioned in a corner of the room.

"Yes," said Matthew. "That's a ducking stool. It's an example of using torture as a punishment, which is quite different from using it in an inquisition. It's from Britain."

Thora walked over to the ducking stool and ran her fingers across the carvings on its back. She could not read the inscription; the letters had faded badly and she was not familiar with the script anyway. There was a large hole in the middle of the seat and on its arms were rows of twisted and shriveled leather straps that were obviously designed to tie down the arms of the occupant.

"The hole was to let water through so that the seat would sink until the victim was submerged. It was designed as a humiliation but sometimes the person in the stool would drown if the duckers weren't careful."

"I'm glad I wasn't around in those days," Thora said, letting go of the stool. She generally found it difficult to hold her tongue when she felt strongly about something, so she would have been a prime candidate.

"These are actually some of the milder instruments in the collection," said Matthew. "The originality of some of the inventions defies belief. Pain seems to give the imagination free rein."

"Actually, I'd like to leave this cozy little room. Shouldn't we keep going?"

Matthew agreed. "Come on, I'll show you the other rooms. None of them are much better, but the kitchen is free of all this. Let's start there."

They moved to the kitchen, which led off the hallway. Although not particularly big, it was impressive, fully equipped with the latest gadgetry. Racks of wine bottles were spread along the fitted shelves. Thora began to doubt that Matthew knew much about "ordinary people." If this was yang, her kitchen was yin. There was a large gas stove with a tall steel ventilation hood overhead, a dishwasher, a cafeteria-standard sink, a wine cooler, and a huge double refrigerator. Thora went up to it. "I've always wanted to make my ice cubes in one of these."

"So why don't you get one?" Matthew asked.

Thora turned to face him. "For the same reason I haven't bought other expensive things I fancy. I can't afford them. Difficult as it may be for you to imagine, some households are a bit short of cash."

Matthew shrugged. "A fridge isn't exactly a luxury."

Thora did not bother to reply. She went to the cupboards and looked inside. In one of the lower ones was a set of steel pots with glass lids that were so clean she doubted they had ever been used. "It doesn't look like Harald did much cooking, even though he had this amazing kitchen," she said, closing the door. She stood up straight.

"No. Knowing him he was probably more one to buy ready meals or dine out."

"His credit card statement gave that impression." She looked all around but saw nothing that could provide further clues. Even the refrigerator door was blankno magnet and therefore no notes hanging from it. Her refrigerator door was used as a kind of information center for the home. She could hardly remember what color it was; it was covered with timetables, birthday invitations, and other memory joggers. "Shouldn't we look at the rest?" Thora asked. "I doubt we'll find anything here to move us forward."

"Not unless someone killed him for his fridge," said Matthew, adding teasingly: "Where were you on the night of the murder?"

Thora made do with a wry smile. "There were a few small transactions in a pet shop on his credit card statementdid Harald keep any pets?"

Matthew shook his head in surprise. "No, there was no animal here nor any signs of one."

"My first thought was that he'd been buying something for a pet." Thora looked in the kitchen cupboards for cat food or the like. Nothing.

"Call the shop," Matthew said. "Maybe they'll remember himwho knows?"

Thora did just that. She found the number of the store, dialed, talked to the assistant there, and hung up. "Weird," she said. "They remembered him and said he came in to buy a hamster on several occasions. Are you sure there wasn't a hamster's cage here?"

"Positive," answered Matthew.

"Strange," said Thora. "The lad I talked to said Harald tried to buy a raven from them too."

"A raven?" said Matthew, shocked. "Why?"

"He had no idea. They don't sell ravens so they didn't go into the reason. He just thought it was odd, which is why he remembered him."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he saw a bird like that as a kind of status symbol in all this magical mumbo jumbo," said Matthew.

"Maybe," Thora said. "But surely not a hamster."

They left the kitchen and walked down a corridor where the other rooms were. Matthew opened the bathroom door and Thora popped her head insideit did not seem to hide any secrets. Like the kitchen it was very modern and stylish, but not particularly interesting in other respects. They went to Harald's bedroom, which turned out to be fascinating.

"Has anyone cleaned up here or did he always keep it so tidy?" Thora asked, pointing to the neatly made bed. It was unusually low, just like the sofas in the living room.

Matthew sat down on the edge of the bed. His knees almost touched his chin. He rearranged his legs and stretched them out in front of him. "He had a cleaning lady who cleaned everything up the weekend he was murdered, which didn't please the police much. Of course at that time she knew nothing about the murder, any more than anyone else. She just turned up at the appointed time and tidied up. I talked to her and she spoke well of Harald. But she did say there weren't many women where she worked who wanted to take on this apartment."

"I wonder why?" said Thora sarcastically, indicating the pictures on the walls. They were all in the same vein as those in the living room, but these mainly depicted female torture, punishment, or execution. Most of the women were naked from the waist up, some completely naked. "This is just like any normal man's room."

"You think so? Maybe you've been associating with the wrong type of person," answered Matthew, a smile darting across his face.

"I was joking, actually," said Thora. "Naturally I've never been in a bedroom with this kind of decor." She walked over to a large flat-screen television that was fixed to the wall facing the bed. "I shudder to think what he had in this," she said, bending down to the DVD player on a low chest of drawers beneath it. She turned on the player and pressed the eject button, but the disk holder came out empty.

"I removed the disk," said Matthew, observing her movements from the bed.

"What was he watching?" Thora asked, turning to him.

"The Lion King," said Matthew, his expression not changing. "Come on, I'll show you the study. That's the most likely place to find something to help us."

Thora stood up and followed. But she decided to make a slight detour to look at Harald's bedside table. She opened the single drawer and was greeted by a heap of jars and tubes of cream, which had clearly been used for certain personal activities, and a half-full packet of condoms. So there are women who don't mind the wall decorations, thought Thora. She closed the drawer and hurried after Matthew.

Laura Amaming looked at her watch. Fortunately it was only a quarter to threeshe had plenty of time to finish her work and still arrive on time for class at four. After years of living in Iceland, she had finally got round to enrolling in a course in Icelandic as a foreign language. She hated being late. Conveniently, the class was in the main building of the university, a stone's throw from the history institute where she worked as a cleaner. It would have been almost impossible for her to attend had it been elsewhereshe did not finish work until half an hour before the class started, and she had no car.