Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Last Rituals

The cookery photographs had caught Thora's attention because they were dated just before Harald was murderedat the time when Hugi said he had gone off by himself and broken contact with his friends. The file properties confirmed thisthey were taken on a Wednesday, three days before Harald was murdered. Thora studied the two shots, focusing on the hands making a salad and slicing bread. Anyone could tell that they belonged to two different people. One pair was covered with scarstattoo scars including a pentacle and a smiley with a downturned mouth and horns. This must have been Harald. The other pair was much more delicate, feminine hands with slim fingers and neatly trimmed short nails. Thora zoomed in on one finger that had a single ring apparently set with a diamond or some other transparent stone. The ring looked too ordinary to stick in anyone's mind, but she could try showing it to Hugi to find out whether he recognized it.

One thought in particular was preying on Thora's mind, something which had been plaguing her ever since she first went to Harald's apartment. It was the German magazine Bunte in the bathroom. She was absolutely certain that Harald would not read that kind of women's magazine. The Icelanders could be ruled out too. It must have been brought there by a Germanand a woman. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes had been smiling on the cover about the expected addition to their family. If her memory served her well, the baby was born that autumn. Could Harald have had a visitor from Germanysomeone who stayed with him so that he did not have time to go out with his friends? Thora called Matthew, who answered on the third ring.

"Where are youis this a bad time?" she asked when she heard the noise in the background.

"No, no," said Matthew, his mouth full. He swallowed. "I've gone out for a meal. Had some meat. What's updo you want to come and have dessert with me?"

"Er, no thanks." Thora could feel how much she really wanted to. It was nice to go out to dinner, dress up, and drink a toast in glasses that someone else would wash up. "There's school tomorrow and I have to make sure the kids go to bed at a reasonable hour. No, I just called to find out if you have the number of Harald's cleaner. I suspect someone was with him just before the murderand possibly even stayed there. All the signs are that the guest was a German woman."

"I have the number somewhere on my address list. Do you want me to phone? I've spoken to her before and she speaks good English. That might be easiestshe doesn't know you, but she'll definitely remember me because I paid her last bill."

Thora agreed and he promised to call back. She used the time to tell her daughter to get ready for bed and was about to brush her teeth for her when Matthew phoned back. Thora lodged her mobile between her shoulder and cheek so that she could talk while she handled Soley's dental care.

"Listen, she says that the bed in the spare bedroom was used. And there were things in the bathrooma disposable razor, a woman's razorwhich suggests you're right."

"Did she inform the police?"

"No, she didn't think it mattered because Harald wasn't murdered in his own place. She also said there had often been guests, sometimes more than just one or two at a time. Generally there was more partying when they were around than there was with this particular visitor."

"Could he have had a German girlfriend?"

"Who flew all the way over here and then slept in the spare bed? I doubt it. I never heard any German girlfriend mentioned either."

"They could have quarreled." Thora thought for a moment. "Or maybe it wasn't a girlfriend, just a friend or relative. His sister maybe?"

Matthew paused. "If that's the case I don't think we should go there."

"Are you crazy?" snapped Thora. "Why the hell not?"

"She's had problems recentlyher brother was murdered, and there's a minor crisis surrounding her own future."

"In what way?" asked Thora.

"She's a very gifted cellist and wants to make a career of it. Her father wants her to study business and take over the bank. There's no one lefteven if Harald were still alive he would have been out of the question. The disagreement over her studies had arisen before he was murdered."

"Does she wear jewelry?" Thora asked. The hands on the photograph could well have belonged to a cellistwith exceptionally short and well-kept nails.

"No, never. She's not the type," Matthew answered. "She doesn't go in for accessories at all."

"Not even a little diamond ring?"

A short silence and then: "Yes, I think maybe she has. How do you know?"

After Thora had described the photographs, Matthew promised to consider contacting the girl, and they said good-bye.

"Aren't you done yet?" her daughter said through a mouth full of toothpaste froth. She'd had to put up with having her teeth brushed for the duration of a whole phone callpearly white, until tomorrow at least. Thora tucked her in and read to her until she began to grow drowsy. She kissed her half-sleeping child on the forehead, switched off the light, and shut the door. Then she went back to her computer.

After two hours of perusing Harald's other files without finding anything useful, she gave up and switched off the laptop. She decided to get into bed and read the copy of Malleus Maleficarum that Matthew had told her to look into. It was bound to be an interesting read.

She opened the book and a folded piece of paper fell out.

"Shut up," Marta Mist growled. "It won't work unless we all concentrate."

"Shut up yourself," retorted Andri. "I can talk if I want."

Briet thought she saw Marta Mist bare her teeth, but could not be sure because the room was dimly litthe only light came from a few liquid candles that had been spread around the sitting room. "Oh, stop arguing and let's get this over with." She made herself comfortable on the floor where they were sitting cross-legged in a tight circle.

"Yes, for God's sake," mumbled Dori, rubbing his eyes. "I was going to have an early night and can't be bothered to carry on with this crap all night."

"Crap?" said Marta Mist, clearly still in a temper. "I thought we all agreed to do this. Did I misunderstand you?"

Dori groaned. "No, don't twist my words. Just get it over with."

"It's just not the same as it was at Harald's place," Brjann chipped in. He had made little contribution until then. He scanned their faces. "Harald's gone. I'm not sure it will work without him."

Andri ignored the remark about his apartment. "We can't do much about Harald not being here." He reached for an ashtray. "What was that old cow's name again?"

"Thora Gudmundsdottir," answered Briet. "The lawyer."

"Okay," said Andri. "Let's start. Agreed?" He looked at the others who either nodded or shrugged. "Who wants to start?"

Briet looked at Marta Mist. "You start," she said, trying to butter up her friend. "You're the best at this by far, and it's important to do it properly."

Marta Mist ignored her attempt at flattery. She looked round the circle. "You know this woman could get us into a hell of a lot of trouble if she starts sticking her nose in the wrong places. It was pure luck that the cops went offtrack."

"We're all aware of that," Brjann said on their behalf. "One hundred percent."

"Good," said Marta Mist. She placed her hands on her thighs. "Absolute silence, please." No one spoke a word. She picked up the thick pile of papers that was in the middle of the circle and a small bowl of red liquid. She put the papers down in front of her and positioned the bowl by her side. Briet solemnly handed her a chopstick. Marta Mist dipped it into the viscous liquid and drew a symbol onto the paper with slow strokes. She closed her eyes and began to chant in a low, eerie voice: "If you wish your enemies to fear you"