Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Last Rituals

It was almost five but the traffic was still light. Few people were out and about in the cold and blustery weather. The handful of pedestrians hurried along without stopping to look around or window-shop. Instead of going to her office, Thora decided to ask Matthew to drive her to the parking garage, and she'd just make her way home from there. She rang Bella to let her know that she wouldn't be in until the next morning and find out about any business involving her that had come up in her absence.

"Hello," came the answer on the phoneno mention of the company name or who was speaking.

"Bella," Thora said, attempting to disguise her displeasure. "It's Thora, I'm not coming back today. But I'll be in at eight tomorrow morning."

"Huh" was the delphic reply.

"Any messages for me?"

"How should I know?" Bella said.

"How? Well, I'm such an optimist I thought the secretary and switchboard operator might have accidentally taken a message. Of course that's absurd of me."

A short silence followed on the other end of the line and Thora could almost hear Bella softly counting down the seconds. "It's five o'clockI don't have to say anything more to you. I'm done for the day." Bella rang off.

Thora stared at her mobile, then saidmore to herself than to Matthew: "Do you reckon Bella could be that Mal character?"

"What?" Matthew had reached the parking garage and pulled in.

"Oh, nothing," Thora said, unfastening her seat belt. "What do you do in the evenings, anyway?"

"This and that," Matthew replied. "Go out for a meal, stroll down to the bars downtown sometimesnow and again I've done some sightseeing, museums and the like."

Thora felt sorry for himit must be rather lonely. "It's Friday tomorrow and my children are going to stay with their father. I'll invite you round for a meal this weekend. How would you like that?"

Matthew smiled. "Great, if you promise not to cook fish. If I eat any more fish I'll start growing fins."

"No, I was thinking about something a bit cozierlike ordering a pizza," Thora said before getting out of the car. She hoped Matthew would drive away before she reached the car she had on loan from the garage. If he thought her coat was cheesy, he'd have a heart attack seeing the vehicle she was driving. But her wish was not grantedMatthew waited to make sure she got into her car and when she unlocked the door she heard him call out to her. She looked around and saw him leaning out of the window.

"You're joking, of course," he called loudly. "Is that your car?"

Ignoring his mocking laugh, Thora called back: "Want to swap?"

Matthew shook his head and wound up the window. Then he drove away, still chuckling to himself as far as she could tell.

The previous evening, Thora had arranged for her daughter to go to a friend's house after school. She dropped by there to pick Soley up and thanked the friend's mother, a young and rather sassy woman, who told her it was nothingactually it was easier to have the two of them because they could keep each other occupied. Thora thanked her again and told her that she would hopefully be able to repay the favor sometime soon. Sometime when the sun started rising in the west.

There was a crowd at the front door to her houseGylfi's friends had been round and were just leaving. The floor was cluttered with a heap of coats, sneakers, and beat-up rucksacks that served as bookbags. The owners, three gangling boys whom Thora knew well and one girl who was less familiar, were getting ready to leave and trying to identify pairs of shoes.

"Hi," said Thora cheerily as she squeezed past the group. Her son watched from the hallway door. He seemed just as morose as he had that morning. "Were you doing your homework?" Thora asked, well aware that this was inconceivable. At that age youngsters did not study togetheranyone suggesting such a thing would be ostracized on the spot. But as a parent it was her duty to make such stupid remarks.

"Er, no," answered Patti, Gylfi's best friend for years. He was a good lad and his new thing was being able to say how many months, days, and hours he had left until he could get his driver's license. A few times Thora had checked the figures, and generally he wasn't far off.

Thora smiled at the girl, who looked away shyly. She simply could not remember her name, although she had been turning up at their house more and more recently. Gylfi had matured a lotmaybe her son was in love with the girl, or perhaps they were even going out together? She looked sweet enough but hardly stood knee-high to Gylfi and his friends.

Soley, who had followed Thora in, had taken off her shoes and coat and arranged them neatly where they belonged. She looked at the teenagers, placed her hands on her hips, and asked them in a housekeeperly voice: "Were you jumping on the bed? You're not allowed toit ruins the mattress."

Her brother blushed with embarrassment and shrieked: "What did I do to deserve such a family of retards? I hate you both!" He stormed out and slammed the door behind him. His friends were embarrassed as well and left hurriedly.

"Bye-bye," Patti said as he closed the door behind them. Before the door shut completely he seemed to have second thoughts and stuck his head back in to announce: "You're not half as retarded as my familyGylfi's just going through a moody phase."

Thora smiled and thanked him. At least this was an effort at courtesyalthough the wording could have been more polished. "Well," she said to her daughter, "shall we make some food?" With a conscientious nod the girl lugged one of the shopping bags into the kitchen.

After dinner togethermicrowave lasagna Thora had picked up at the store and pitas she had grabbed thinking they were garlic breadher daughter went off to her room to play while her son tidied up the dishes. He clearly regretted his rash remarks about the mental faculties of his mother and sister but could not bring himself to apologize. Thora feigned nonchalance and hoped she was taking the right approachmaybe in the end he would tell her what was troubling him. She thought she had made it clear to him that she was there if and when he needed her. After a cautious peck on the cheek to thank him for his help, she was rewarded with a dopey grin. Then he went to his room.

Thora decided to take advantage of the peace and quiet that had suddenly descended to examine the files she had copied from Harald's computer. She fetched her laptop and settled down on the sofa. First she looked at several shots of cooking and the tongue operation, which was dated September 17. Opening them one after the other, she zoomed in on parts that might be interesting, and this made the photographs slightly less revolting. The main theme was the mouth and the operation itself, but various details could be discerned beyond Harald's jaws. The operation had been performed in someone's housethat was certainbecause what was visible of the surroundings could not possibly be a doctor's or dentist's office. She could see a coffee table littered with half-full or empty glasses, beer cans, and other trashand a huge ashtray filled to the brim. It was also clearly not where Harald lived. This apartment looked much scruffier and cheaper than his pristine modern abode.

One photograph showed part of the body of the person performing or assisting with the operation. He or she was wearing a light brown T-shirt bearing a slogan which was made illegible by the folds in it. She managed to discern the number 100 and " lico "

No incision had been made in the first two photographs but the third was taken after the knife had been appliedblood was pouring out of the side of Harald's mouth and an arm that was visible was spattered with bloodstains. The blood must have spurted everywhere when the tongue was cutif tongue wounds were like ordinary head injuries, it would have bled profusely. Thora squinted at the arm and zoomed in on what looked like a tattoo. This turned out to be correctthe word "crap" was etched into the arm. No decoration or frillsjust "crap." There was nothing else to see in the tongue pictures.