Yrsa Sigurdardóttir - My Soul to Take

“Hi,” Thóra said, to break the ice. Her curiosity got the better of her and she forgot the charade with the keys. “I heard about the body that was found on the beach.”

The women exchanged glances and seemed to come to a silent agreement. The thin one turned to her. “It’s just awful,” she said emphatically, her eyes wide. “You know the cops are here?” Removing her elbow from the counter, she stretched out her hand for Thóra to shake. “I’m Kata, the beautician.” Her teeth shone pearly white.

Thóra greeted her, surprised at the strength of her grip considering her size. “I’m Thóra. I’m looking into a little matter for Jónas. I’m not really a guest.”

The receptionist nodded. “Oh, yeah, he mentioned it to me. I’m Vigdís, the reception manager. You’re one of those lawyers, right?”

Not knowing exactly what “one of those” meant in this context, Thóra nodded. “That’s right.” Looking around, she saw through the glass entrance doors that a police car was still outside. “Where did the police go?”

Vigdís pointed to the right and whispered, although no one else was nearby. “They wanted to talk to Jónas.” She leaned back in her chair and raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. “He wasn’t even surprised when I told him.”

“What did the police say?” Thóra asked. “He might not have realized what the matter involved.”

Vigdís blushed slightly. “Well, no,” she said reluctantly. “They didn’t say anything to me really, just asked for Jónas.”

“So how do you know there’s a body?” asked Kata, the beautician, who was clearly no fool.

Vigdís’s cheeks grew redder. “I heard them say it. I showed them to Jónas’s office, and when they introduced themselves, they stated their business with him.”

Thóra was certain that the woman had put her ear up to the door. “Did they say anything about how this person died?” she asked. “Was the body washed ashore, or what?”

“And was it a man or a woman?” the beautician interjected. “Did they say?”

“It was a woman, apparently,” replied Vigdís, the flush leaving her cheeks. She clearly enjoyed holding all the cards, and when she started speaking again, she drew out every word for maximum effect. “They didn’t mention the cause of death exactly, but I swear they were implying that it was unnatural.” She took a deep, dramatic breath. Kata put her hand to her mouth, her colleague’s theatrics clearly producing the desired response.

“Why did they come here?” Thóra pressed. “Was the body found on the beach?”

Vigdís nodded slowly and pointed to a window overlooking the open sea below. “I don’t know exactly where, but it was in this area. Down there somewhere.”

Thóra and Kata looked out of the window. The weather outside was relatively calm and it was still bright daylight despite it being late. The beach itself was hidden from view because the lawn outside the window was a little above sea level.

“How could it have been directly below here?” asked Thóra, turning away from the window. “Surely you would have noticed if the police had been active in that area.”

Vigdís shrugged. “A huge amount of land belongs to the old farm and you can’t see the whole beach from here by any means. The headland over there is one reason.” She pointed to a hill through the window. “The farthest point west is on the other side of that hill, and we can’t see it from here. That part can be reached by road from elsewhere.”

Thóra and Kata stared at the hill as if hoping to see through it. Then Thóra nodded slowly. “Weren’t there originally two farms here, on two separate plots of land?” Vigdís shrugged. Thóra continued, “As far as I recall, there were two plots of farmland owned by two brothers, but one of them died childless so the other one inherited it. Then he merged them into one. That would explain the question of access. Generally there’s only one driveway up to each farm, not two. Do you suppose the boundary lay across that hill?” Looking back, she saw that neither woman was remotely interested.

“Sure,” Kata said, turning back to her friend. “But who is the dead woman? Did they say anything about that?”

“I don’t think they have the faintest idea. When they came, they asked me how many guests were registered at the hotel and if any were missing.” She grinned conspiratorially at her audience. “I just told them the truth—that I had no idea. This is a hotel, not a prison.” Then addressing Thóra, she added, “The guests have keys that they can take out with them. They don’t drop off the keys with me, so it’s pure chance whether I notice their movements. They seldom talk to me, unless they’re going for a hike and want guidance about routes.”

“It has to be that drunk couple in number eighteen, either him or the wife. I’ve not seen either of them for two days,” Kata said disapprovingly.

Vigdís shook her head. “No, the kitchen sent food up to their room just a while back. And drinks.” She emphasized the latter firmly. “The woman just phoned down to ask for room service. She said they’d been indisposed and had slept the whole day.”

Kata snorted. “Indisposed, my arse. They were either hungover or pissed.”

Thóra could tell that there was little more of any use to be gained from the two women. She was generally not interested in gossip, especially about people she didn’t know from Adam, so she decided to take her leave and put her hand in her pocket for the key chain. “I have some keys here that my masseuse left behind.” Thóra handed over the bunch of keys, which were on a key ring with a small enameled Icelandic flag.

“Sibba, you mean,” Vigdís said, stretching for the keys across the counter. “She can be incredibly absentminded.” She noticed a large plastic card dangling from the patriotic ring. “Oh, my God, she’s even got the master here. She’s a real—” Exactly what she was was to remain a mystery, because the telephone rang. Vigdís turned to answer it.

Glancing at Kata, Thóra took the keys back. “I’ll just return them to her myself. I forgot to book another session, so I have to talk to her anyway.” She smiled innocently at the young woman. “Do you know where she might be?”

The beautician shrugged. “Maybe in the cafeteria.” She pointed at a corridor to the right. “It’s next to the kitchen.”

Thóra thanked her, then added, “Do you know what room Birna’s in? The architect? I wanted to say hello to her.”

Kata shook her head, but reached over for a book behind the reception desk. Vigdís was still busy on the telephone and paid no attention to them. “Birna, Birna …” Delicate fingers with long French-manicured nails ran down the page. “Aha. Here it is.” She slammed the book shut. “She’s in room five. It’s on the way. She’s definitely here because her car’s parked outside. It’s really flash.”

“That’s nice,” said Thóra, who was not particularly interested in cars. “Thanks very much. I might drop in to your salon tomorrow. I could do with a bit of plucking.” The young woman nodded, rather too vehemently in Thóra’s opinion.

On her way down the corridor, various thoughts ran through Thóra’s mind. What the hell was she thinking? She couldn’t assume the dead woman was Jónas’s missing architect. In all probability it was a completely different woman. And who was this Birna anyway? There was no excuse for going into her room. Thóra thought it over on her way, but the closer she came to room 5, the more determined she became to look inside. If it turned out that Birna was the woman on the beach, this would presumably be Thóra’s only chance to examine her room. If the circumstances of death were suspicious, the police would seal it off. She tried to persuade herself that she had to take advantage of this opportunity, as Jónas’s lawyer. Perhaps he would be a suspect. Eventually she convinced herself that she was doing nothing wrong. She simply wanted to put her head around the door and take a look. Nothing else.