Майкл Ридпат - The Wanderer

But Jón Kári was friendly and helpful, even offering Magnus the use of his own office, which Magnus declined, preferring to be out in the squad room with the officers working on the case.

‘Any news from Italy?’ Magnus asked him.

‘Björn has something.’

‘I have,’ the detective said, consulting his notes. ‘Sergeant Massimo Tacchini called about an hour ago. He has contacted Carlotta’s parents. They are planning to come to Iceland as soon as they can. Tomorrow if possible.’

‘What did he say about Carlotta?’

‘She was studying for a PhD at a university in Italy. Padua. Sergeant Tacchini said you could call him tomorrow morning. He gave me Carlotta’s phone number.’

‘That’s something. Get on to the phone companies. See if you can put together a call history while she was in Iceland. And locations.’

‘I’ll do that.’

‘Was there nothing else?’

‘It was difficult. I don’t speak Italian.’

‘Doesn’t he speak English?’

Björn reddened. ‘He does. Mine isn’t so good.’

‘Have you got his number? I’ll call him now.’

‘He said he was going home. But he will be in tomorrow morning. Here is the number.’ Björn handed Magnus a Post-it.

‘OK,’ said Magnus. ‘Jón Kári. We’ll have a case meeting at eight a.m. tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I’m going to talk to the TV documentary crew. They were the last people to see Carlotta alive.’

They were staying in the Hótel Tindastóll just a little way down the old main street. Magnus gathered the five of them in the cosy basement dining room, which was otherwise empty, since it was only used for breakfast or as a bar for residents. He recognized Eygló, with her spiky blonde hair and big blue eyes, from the television, although she was shorter than he expected. Next to her at one of the tables lounged a tall man with longish fair hair and a nice growth of stubble: Einar, the archaeologist. Suzy Henshaw was the English producer; her dark eyes stared at Magnus with something close to hostility from a thin, lined face under black curls. Next to her sat a young thin British — Asian guy with big, startled eyes, Ajay Jassal, the sound man, trying to make himself look as small as possible. Lastly, the cameraman, a tough-looking man of about the same age as Suzy, brooded at his own table a little away from the others, nursing a beer. He too was English and his name was Tom Loudon. He was the only one who was drinking.

The atmosphere was tense, a mixture of anxiety, shock and gloom, except for Suzy who looked irritated. Ajay seemed on the verge of tears. The typical response from a group of ordinary people who had been confronted by a murder.

‘Thank you for seeing me,’ said Magnus in English, taking a seat next to them. ‘I know you spoke with my colleagues this morning and have given written statements, but I’d like to go over what you said again.’

‘All right,’ said Suzy Henshaw in a tone that suggested that she thought it was only just all right.

‘Einar, you were the one who spoke to Carlotta, right?’

‘That’s right,’ said Einar.

‘What exactly did she say?’

‘I’m not sure. Something like “Do you know if this church is open?”’

‘I see. And what did you say?’

‘“Yes, it is.” I mean, it obviously was. We were standing right there in the open doorway.’

‘And what did she say?’

‘I don’t know. “Thanks”, I guess.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘She looked into the church.’

‘Did she actually go in?’

‘No.’

‘Then what did she do?’

Einar visibly fought to control his impatience. ‘I don’t know. She left. I was watching Eygló and the others. Trying to hear what Eygló was saying.’

‘I saw her leave,’ said Eygló.

‘Which way did she go?’

‘To the churchyard gate. And then back towards the museum.’

‘I see.’ This was mighty thin, Magnus thought. ‘Einar, did she seem agitated to you?’

Einar thought a moment. ‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

Einar took a breath as if biting back a comment. ‘No, I’m not sure. The truth is I was ignoring her. I was concentrating on the filming, as I told you.’ Einar’s disdain for a tourist asking stupid questions was entirely believable.

‘Did any of you see her anywhere else yesterday?’

Magnus looked around the five people. Silence.

‘Had any of you seen her before anywhere?’

Shaking of five heads. But Eygló, Eygló seemed thoughtful.

‘Are you sure?’ Magnus looked directly at her.

She met his gaze, and shook her head again. ‘No. I’m sure.’

‘And you didn’t see her speaking with anyone else apart from Einar?’

More shaking of heads.

‘All right,’ said Magnus. ‘Thank you very much.’

‘Is that it?’ said Suzy Henshaw. ‘We waited here all day just for that?’

‘Yes, thank you. I appreciate your cooperation,’ said Magnus. ‘It is a murder enquiry. I’d be grateful if you could let me know anything that occurs to you, however minor it may seem. We don’t have much to go on at this point.’

‘But you have no objection if we go to Snaefellsnes tomorrow?’ said Suzy.

Magnus shook his head. ‘We have your cell-phone numbers if we need you.’ Suzy was right: talking to them again had been pointless. They had nothing more to say. Except for Eygló, maybe.

Magnus handed each of them one of his cards. Maybe Eygló would call him back with something. You never knew.

‘So you’re going to Snaefellsnes?’ he said to her. ‘Gudrid’s farm at Laugarbrekka?’

‘You are very well informed,’ said Eygló. ‘There and Ólafsvík.’

‘Ólafsvík? What happened there?’

‘You will have to watch the programme to find out,’ said Einar.

‘She’s a fascinating woman, Gudrid,’ Magnus said. ‘Have you filmed at L’Anse aux Meadows yet?’

‘We have,’ said Eygló. ‘And Nantucket. We are flying to Greenland later this week.’

‘Nantucket?’ said Magnus. ‘Do you think they got as far south as Nantucket?’

‘They may have done,’ said Einar. ‘We have found some evidence to suggest so.’

As a boy, Magnus had devoured the sagas, and, unsurprisingly for an Icelander in America, the two Vinland sagas had been among his favourites.

The Vikings often stopped at a place called ‘Leif’s Booths’ somewhere on the North American coast, possibly the modern L’Anse aux Meadows. Gudrid and her husband Thorfinn had ventured a long way south from there to somewhere they named Hóp. There had been much speculation as to where that might be. Possible locations that Magnus had read about included the St Lawrence River, Nova Scotia, Rhode Island and even New York Harbour. But he hadn’t heard that Nantucket was a candidate.

`What evidence?’

‘As I said, you will have to watch the programme.’

‘I’ll be sure to do that,’ said Magnus. ‘So you think Hóp is in Nantucket?’

‘It could well be,’ said Einar.

‘And that’s where Gudrid and Thorfinn spent a couple of summers,’ said Eygló.

‘That’s fascinating. What about Rome? Gudrid went to Rome, didn’t she?’

‘We’re going in two weeks’ time,’ said Suzy. ‘After Greenland.’

A thought occurred to Magnus. ‘And you are sure none of you know anything about Carlotta?’

Silence.

Later that evening, as Eygló made her way up the steep wooden stairs to the Gudrídur Thorbjarnardóttir room, she felt herself shaking again. She had held it together pretty well in front of the others, and had resisted the temptation to have a drink. Her brain, her whole body, was still trying to process the shock of discovering the dead woman. She hoped she would be able to get to sleep that night without the image of the poor girl’s crushed skull haunting her, but she knew there was little chance of that.