Yrsa Sigurdardóttir - My Soul to Take

“May I inquire why the telephone is needed?” she asked levelly.

“We think the phone may contain information that could be of use to us,” Thórólfur answered, equally impassive.

“Various kinds of information are stored on mobile phones,” Thóra said, stalling as she tried to recall the model that Jónas owned. Some information could be obtained from the telephone company, so they were hardly trying to establish whom Jónas had called. They must have been after his calendar or photographs, if such features were included. What made the warrant unusual was that the police were interested only in the telephone. They were not insisting on a regular search of premises, unless such a request had been turned down. “Actually, it says here that you may take the phone, but there’s no mention of the SIM card. Can he keep that?” Thóra asked, vainly hoping that whatever they wanted was stored on the card and not in the phone itself.

Thórólfur snatched the warrant out of Thóra’s hands. “It says mobile telephone number”—he scanned the page and when he had found it he turned it around proudly for Thóra to see, stabbing at the number with his finger—“667 6767. See, that’s Jónas’s number. It even states that he is the registered user. If you give me the phone without the card, you’re not handing over what the warrant requires.” Smugly, he leaned back in his seat and addressed Jónas. “You have to hand the phone over to me.”

Thóra looked at Jónas. “Are you opposed to giving them the phone?”

Jónas bristled indignantly. “Of course I am! What am I supposed to do without a phone? Admittedly, the reception out here isn’t up to much, but I don’t care. It’s my phone.”

“I advise you to advise your client to hand over what the warrant demands. Doing otherwise would be extremely unwise.” Thórólfur could not conceal his irritation at the delay.

“I didn’t kill Birna!” Jónas slammed his fist down on the desk. “How could you think I did?”

“No one’s claiming that. Least of all me,” Thórólfur replied, more calmly than before. “However, your behavior does raise certain questions.”

“What are you insinuating?” Jónas bellowed. He hit the desk again, this time so hard that a pen stand and other loose objects shook on its surface. “I had nothing to do with this murder, and I insist on taking a lie-detector test to prove it, but you shan’t have my phone.”

Thóra leaned over to Jónas and gently gripped his hand. “Jónas, lie detectors aren’t used in Iceland. They’re inadmissible as evidence in this country. I advise you to hand over the telephone. Especially if you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s out of the question,” said Jónas firmly. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair as if to emphasize his determination. Then he inclined forward and whispered into Thóra’s ear, “They mustn’t take the phone under any circumstances. Believe me, that would be a seriously bad idea.” He leaned back away from her and smiled at the police officer.

“Okay, I understand. Give me your phone.” She stared him in the eye. “Trust me.”

Jónas looked at her suspiciously. “No. You’ll give it to the police.”

“Jónas. Trust me, I said.” Thóra held out her open hand.

Jónas just stared dubiously at her. After a moment’s thought he took his mobile out of the pocket of the jacket hung over his chair. He handed the phone to Thóra, but did not let go. “I mean it; you mustn’t let him have the phone.”

Thóra nodded. “I know. You can let go.” She heaved a sigh when he finally released his grip. She was relieved to see that it was not a camera phone.

“Please hand the phone over to me,” Thórólfur said, holding out the sheet of paper to affirm his right.

“One moment,” Thóra said, and put her own mobile on the table. She opened the back and removed the SIM card. Then she did the same to Jónas’s mobile and swapped the cards. “Here you are. One mobile phone, number 667 6767, registered user Jónas Júlíusson.” She handed her mobile to the police officer. “Completely in accordance with the warrant, if I have not misunderstood the wording.” She smiled at Thórólfur.

“Brilliant, brilliant,” Jónas was enthusing as they burst into Thóra’s room. They had gone straight there with the mobile phone, after Thórólfur had made a call to confirm that Jónas was considered to have fulfilled the conditions of the warrant. However, a new and more precisely worded warrant was pending, so Thóra didn’t have long to find out what it was that Jónas didn’t want the police to see.

“Matthew—Jónas. Jónas—Matthew.” A brief introduction would have to do, since Jónas was short of time. Matthew simply nodded. Although clearly startled by the intrusion, he asked no questions. She turned to Jónas. “Why on earth didn’t you just let the man have the phone?”

“There are numbers in it that I definitely don’t want him to see. And texts too.” Jónas lowered his voice. “I smoke a hash pipe every now and again. There are two guys I score from and their numbers are on my phone. There are probably texts that I’ve sent when they don’t answer their phones. If you read them, the exact nature of our business is pretty obvious.”

Thóra nodded, astonished at Jónas’s stupidity, although actually she thought this was an excellent indication of his innocence in Birna’s murder. Judging from the way he bought drugs, he would have left a note on the body with his name on it.

She handed him the phone. “I can’t advise you to do anything illegal, but here’s the phone. I should remind you that time is running out. My PIN number is 4036.”

Jónas switched on the mobile and entered the PIN. He went straight into his address book and erased two names, which Thóra studiously avoided seeing. Then he went to the message menu and erased several that he had received. As he scrolled through the sent messages, he suddenly said, “What?” and held the mobile away to focus better on the screen. “What the fuck is this?”

Thóra leaned over and grabbed for the phone. “What? What have you found?”

Jónas let her take it. “That’s not right.” Something had clearly shocked him deeply.

Thóra read the header of the top message, which was presumably the most recent. “Meet me @ cave …” This filled the screen line, so she opened the message. She groaned when she read it in its entirety. “Meet me @ cave @ 9 2nite need 2 discuss ur idea Jónas.” The message had been sent the previous Thursday at twenty-five past seven, the evening before the body was found.

“Please tell me that’s not Birna’s number,” Thóra said anxiously, handing the phone back to Jónas.

He looked at the mobile, then up at Thóra, and slowly nodded his head.

Everything all right? ” Matthew asked in English, looking from Thóra to Jónas, who was still gawking at the mobile phone.

Thóra and Jónas had taken a while to regain their powers of speech. Although Matthew had understood almost nothing of what passed between them, he could tell something was amiss.

Jónas, still standing openmouthed and speechless, turned to him. “Who is this, anyway?” he asked, clearly relieved to have something else to think about.

“This is Matthew, my friend from Germany,” Thóra replied. “He was a detective, but now he handles security for a bank. I met him on another case. You can trust him—this won’t go any further.”

“If you say so,” Jónas retorted, looking unconvinced. “I can’t understand this at all. I didn’t send that text message, I swear.”

Thóra turned the phone over in her hands thoughtfully. “Someone did, Jónas, and you’re undeniably the most likely candidate.” She turned to Matthew and quickly translated. Jónas waited in fretful silence. When Thóra had finished, he resumed.