The Silence of the Sea

Chapter 19

The discovery of the body had placed the mystery of the yacht in a whole new light. When Loftur’s corpse washed up on shore it had merely lent support to earlier speculation that the disappearance of the passengers must be due to a single catastrophe, but a dead man wrapped in a tarpaulin and left hanging on the end of a rope was quite another matter. This was Thóra’s third visit to the police station in the wake of the discovery; Matthew and Snævar had only been summoned twice. Perhaps they would be asked to come back too, but Thóra suspected the police were daunted by having to question Matthew in English, and Snævar doubtless needed time to recover from the shock of witnessing his friend Halldór in such a horrific state. Strong emotion presumably would not make for a clear statement.

Thóra followed the detective along a corridor that had clearly not been decorated with a view to pleasing the eye. He was the same man she had originally spoken to about the yacht, but this time she herself was a witness and the case had taken a far more serious turn. The officer looked tired and preoccupied; his nicotine gum was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a faint whiff of cigarette smoke. With cuts to the police budget putting extra pressure on her contacts, she imagined they would hardly welcome a complicated, time-consuming case like this. The man didn’t let it show, however, and Thóra was grateful. For some strange reason she felt as if she was to blame for the whole affair and kept having to stop herself from apologising for the nuisance.

The detective halted before the door to a small interview room that looked even less inviting than the corridor. Thóra sat down on a hard chair, feeling very upright and unrelaxed, not because of the chair so much as her own desire to get the conversation over with as soon as possible. The room was hot and stuffy. She undid the top button of her coat and loosened the collar a little so her face wouldn’t turn scarlet during the interrogation. ‘Have there been any developments?’

‘Yes and no.’ The man’s face was impassive as he placed a file on the table and took a seat himself. ‘We’ve finally had the initial results of the tests on the body samples. As you can imagine, things were considerably delayed by the fact that someone had vomited over the evidence.’

‘Tell me about it.’ Thóra was about to share her photocopier experience but caught herself in the nick of time; her cheeks turned pink at the thought that this should even have crossed her mind. ‘Have you been able to verify that it’s Halldór? Snævar was adamant but the body was such a mess that I don’t know how he could tell for sure.’ Pictures of the crew and passengers had just been published; their black-and-white faces had met her gaze that morning as she read the paper over her tea and toast. She had already seen photos of Ægir and his family but this was the first time she had laid eyes on the other three men and learnt about the families they had left behind. The captain was a widower with three grown-up children; the other two were unmarried and childless but had parents and siblings. The picture of Halldór had rung no bells.

‘Yes, we’ve received verification.’ He leafed through the file. ‘There’s no further doubt.’ He focused unusually intense green eyes on Thóra. Was he wearing tinted contact lenses? He didn’t seem the type. His irises were probably naturally that colour. ‘Just as importantly, we’ve also established the cause of death, though the postmortem results have only complicated matters. You see, it appears that the man drowned, regardless of how he ended up hanging on a rope. That’s why I called you in – to consult your opinion on a few details.’

Thóra was wrong-footed. It had never occurred to her that the man might have died in an accident. She had been convinced that he had been murdered and that the postmortem would reveal stab wounds or signs of violence. She hadn’t noticed any injuries on the part of his body that had been visible; her assumption had been based entirely on the way the corpse had been disposed of. Which is not to say that she had examined him very closely; she had merely gaped at the grisly vision for the instant it took her brain to register the badly decomposed head, then she had looked away to avoid following Snævar’s example. Her stomach turned over at the memory. ‘Ah. I was thinking something new must have come to light.’

‘Quite. We haven’t made this public yet. And I trust you won’t discuss the matter with anyone apart from those working on the case with you?’

‘No, of course not.’ She couldn’t exactly see herself posting the news on Facebook or gossiping about it with her friends.

‘I’m glad to hear it. The postmortem results are indisputable: the man drowned and there’s nothing to suggest coercion. His body showed grazing and contusions but not in the places you’d expect if force had been used. What’s more, he seems to have incurred these injuries at an earlier stage because they’d already begun to heal by the time he died.’

‘I see.’ Thóra didn’t really expect an answer to her next question. ‘Have you made any progress in finding out how he came to be wrapped in canvas and sunk in the sea?’

‘Well, I can’t go into any detail,’ the detective replied, ‘but rest assured that the investigation’s in full swing. Though it doesn’t help that all the people involved are either dead or missing. It’s going to be tricky, but we hope to get to the bottom of it eventually.’

‘I hope you do.’ Thóra undid another button on her coat. The police budget cuts did not seem to extend to the central heating.

‘I don’t know if you’re aware but when we boarded the yacht after the crash, the only door we found locked was the one to the storeroom where Halldór’s body was suspended from the hatch. It’s hard to tell if it’s significant but the key was discovered in the corner of one of the stairwells.’

Thóra had not heard this before but regarded it as of secondary importance. ‘What about Loftur? Was he drowned as well?’

‘The same applies to this as to what I told you before; you must treat the information as confidential.’ Thóra merely nodded. ‘His body was in pretty bad shape after being immersed for so long in the sea, which means the postmortem results weren’t as unambiguous, but we’ve established that he drowned as well; the question is how he managed to do so in chlorinated seawater.’

‘Chlorinated?’

‘So it appears. We had to send some tissue samples abroad for testing to be absolutely certain and we haven’t had those results back yet, but I’d be surprised if they contradicted the earlier findings.’

‘What about Halldór? Did he drown in chlorinated seawater too?’

‘No. His lung tissue and other physical evidence indicate that he drowned in the usual manner.’ The man linked his hands behind his head and tipped back his chair. ‘Do you remember the Jacuzzi on one of the smaller decks?’

Thóra realised what he was implying. ‘Loftur drowned in that?’

‘In all likelihood. In fact, it’s the only real option.’ He lowered his arms, sat up in his chair and moved closer to the desk. ‘Of course it could happen to anyone, especially if they’re drunk, but that wasn’t the case with Loftur. There was next to no alcohol in his bloodstream. Yet somehow the poor sod ended up drowning, stone-cold sober, in one metre of water.’

‘Are you suggesting he was given a helping hand?’

‘No. Not necessarily. It’s possible, but of course it’s also conceivable that he had some kind of fit when he was in the tub and passed out, or couldn’t save himself for some other reason.’ The policeman seemed to be waiting for her to comment. When she didn’t, he added: ‘Aren’t you going to ask what he was wearing?’

‘What was he wearing?’ Thóra took the hint; if Loftur had been wearing clothes, he was unlikely to have died from natural causes. Nobody would get into a hot tub with their clothes on.

‘He was fully dressed.’ The man arched an eyebrow. ‘Which is rather odd, as people don’t usually bother to dress corpses. And how could he have come to fall in the sea after drowning in the Jacuzzi? It seems clear to me that somebody else was involved. And perhaps that person killed the others on board as well.’ He clicked his tongue and smiled. ‘Or not, as the case may be.’

Thóra was silent. The news had filled her with horror and for a moment she forgot how hot she was. ‘I can hardly bear to think about those little girls. It was bad enough before but everything looks much blacker now. Somehow it’s easier to accept the idea that they died in an accident than that they fell victim to a murderer.’ She sighed. ‘Though the outcome is the same.’

‘It’s certainly not looking good.’ The policeman’s expression was grave again. ‘But to get down to business, your part in the case seems straightforward, so I see no need to ask you any further questions. Unless there’s something you want to add?’

‘No.’ Her first interview had been long and rigorous, and the police had extracted all the information that mattered or that she was able to tell them. Not that she was hiding anything out of confidentiality to her clients, sadly. If she had been it would at least mean that she had some inkling about the fates of the passengers.

‘Our interests are not incompatible – would you agree?’ he continued. Thóra nodded; their goals might not exactly coincide but the difference was negligible. She needed to provide persuasive grounds for believing that Ægir and Lára were dead, and in order to do so she had to acquaint herself with as many details of the case as possible. The police needed to go a step further; probability was not enough for them, they needed to prove what had happened beyond reasonable doubt. The detective continued: ‘So we were wondering if we should join forces. I’m not insisting that you work for us since that would be inappropriate for both parties, but we were hoping you’d keep us abreast of any information you uncover that might be of relevance to our inquiry. That way we won’t have to keep hauling you in for a grilling. I don’t believe this arrangement would be in conflict with your duty to your clients. In fact, I assume it’s in all our interests to solve this case.’

‘Yes, I agree.’ Thóra paused before continuing: ‘Of course, I’ll need to inform my clients, but I assume they won’t object. It’s not as if I’m working on anything major; I’m merely trying to establish that the missing couple are dead. Since my last visit to the police station I’ve sent the insurance company formal notification of their presumed death and explained that a report will follow. I don’t know whether to expect a response before they receive the full report but we’ll soon see. I’m not exactly optimistic that they’ll accept the documentation as sufficient proof, in which case we’ll have little option but to take the matter to court. But obviously it would be better if we could avoid that by presenting a watertight case to start with. It’s quite possible that my investigation will uncover something that might be of benefit to you.’

‘But you do take my point? We can’t pay you for your time, and anyway it’s your public duty. You’re a lawyer so I need hardly remind you of article 73 of the Act on Criminal Procedure.’ He cleared his throat and for a moment Thóra thought he was going to quote the whole article from memory, but her fear proved unfounded. ‘You are obliged to render assistance to the police in their investigation of matters in the public interest. And it’s also important to bear in mind that you’re required to surrender any documents and other items in your possession should the police request them for their investigation.’

‘I assure you I’m not sitting on any evidence. I’ve already handed over copies of all the papers Snævar gave me connected to his hospital admission and flight tickets; that’s all I’ve acquired so far. In the next few days I’m expecting to obtain documents relating to Ægir and Lára’s finances, as well as a declaration from their GP that they were both in good health. It goes without saying that you can have copies of those too if you want. Then I’m going to try and persuade Snævar to obtain a certificate from an Icelandic doctor stating that his broken leg made him unfit for work, as confirmation that the crew was one man short. I won’t do that immediately, though, as I want to give him a chance to recover from his shock.’ Thóra had the uneasy feeling that the detective suspected her of concealing evidence, though nothing could be further from the truth. ‘Just to be completely clear about this, there are exceptions to the article you cited, as I’m sure you’re aware. I only raise the fact because I might have to resort to them at some stage and it would be better to establish from the outset that I reserve the right to assess each point on its own merits. But of course I’ll help as far I can.’

The detective seemed satisfied, perhaps even more satisfied than if she had simply acquiesced without reservation. ‘Fine. It would be good to receive copies of everything you get hold of. Better too much than too little.’ He turned back to the file. ‘About the box or case you mentioned in your statement following the discovery of the body; it transpires that it wasn’t among the items we removed from the yacht. So it looks as if it must have been taken by the person or persons who broke in. Perhaps they mistook it for a jewellery case.’

‘Perhaps, but it wasn’t locked. They would only have had to open it to realise there were no valuables inside.’

‘Are you sure? Did you go through all the contents? Valuables don’t necessarily consist of gold or money.’

Thóra was forced to admit that she had not made a very thorough inspection. ‘There’s one thing I forgot to mention. I noticed a safe in one of the wardrobes in the master bedroom. Were you aware of its existence?’

‘Yes. We had it opened but it was empty. It wasn’t stuffed with handy clues, more’s the pity.’ His tone was ironic. ‘Before I let you go, I’d like your opinion on a couple more matters that you must keep to yourself for the time being. They’re unlikely to have any bearing on your case, but you never know. Perhaps you’d keep your eyes open for any evidence that might relate to them.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Good.’ Before going on, he met her eyes searchingly, as if scrutinising her for proof of her honesty. When he stared intently like that his green irises appeared even more unnatural. ‘You said the body was only partially uncovered, so all you saw was the head. Is that correct?’

‘Yes and no. It’s correct that all I saw was the head, because I looked away at once. I gather from Matthew that Snævar tore the canvas off in a frenzy, then threw up. I can’t stand corpses or people being sick, let alone both together, so I only caught a glimpse of the body. And that was more than enough. If I explained badly during questioning, I assure you it wasn’t deliberate.’

The man was reading the page in front of him, which probably contained one of the statements she had given. ‘No, no. It’s all down here. I just couldn’t quite recall.’ He looked up again. ‘So you didn’t notice that an attempt had been made to dismember the body?’

‘No. I wasn’t aware of that.’ Yet again she found herself completely thrown. It was bad enough that the yacht mystery should have developed into a murder inquiry, without people being chopped up as well. ‘Matthew didn’t mention it either.’

‘He may not have noticed or the canvas may have concealed the lower half of the body. We have photos from the scene, so I can easily check. But that’s not the issue. What I wanted to know was whether you remember hearing a splash as they were hauling the bundle on board.’ He drew a deep breath and fiddled with his shirt collar, apparently feeling the heat as well.

‘No. Should I have done?’ Confused, she couldn’t grasp what he was driving at.

‘It appears that someone intended to dismember the body but was either disturbed in the act or abandoned the attempt for some other reason. At any rate, he or she managed to sever the legs at the knee and they’re missing. I suppose they could have been amputated accidentally, though it’s hard to see how. At present we’re assuming human agency, but it would be easier to establish the cause if we had the legs. We’ve had divers out dragging the sea around the yacht but with no success. I was trying to find out if you remembered hearing anything that might indicate that the legs had fallen out of the tarpaulin. It’s not crucial, but if they were thrown overboard separately, it begs the question: why not the whole body? It seems illogical but hopefully we’ll find an explanation. We had forensics inspect the boat again for traces of this… procedure. Even if Halldór was already dead, there would have been a considerable amount of blood, and we believe we’ve found the place, though the perpetrator cleaned up afterwards. It’s pretty clear that the dismemberment was carried out on board.’

Thóra tried weakly to imagine the sequence of events. ‘Where?’

‘Below decks, in an out-of-the-way corner between the water tanks. Which suggests that the culprit was at pains to hide the fact.’

‘Implying that one or more of the others were still alive at the time?’

‘Exactly.’ His gaze was almost hypnotic. Perhaps he did wear lenses, just to achieve this effect. ‘That’s the theory we’re going with for now. But as I said, we’re not a hundred per cent positive; the blood may have resulted from a completely different incident. We’ve also found traces elsewhere, but it had been more carefully cleaned up, so it’s harder to work out what was going on. We’re currently running tests.’

‘Where was this?’

He drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘All over the place, to be honest. On the bridge, by the exit to one of the staircases and in the saloon. Although we can’t find any sign of it now, chances are that the deck was running with blood too. But the sea would wash away the evidence pretty fast. The yacht hit bad weather and there would have been a great deal of spray, not to mention rain. The man’s legs may have been cut off on deck, for that matter. If you think about it, that would be by far the most logical place.’

Thóra remembered that most of the deck was overlooked by one or more of the yacht’s windows. ‘Wouldn’t the others have noticed?’ She corrected herself before he could reply. ‘Ah, not if it was night, of course, when most people would have been asleep. But why do it in the first place? Wouldn’t it have been simpler to throw the body overboard? Out in the middle of the ocean like that, surely it would have sunk without trace or been eaten?’

‘You would have thought so.’

‘One more question. Is it possible that the captain was referring to Halldór’s body when he contacted the British vessel? Could he or one of the others have surprised the murderer in the act, meaning he didn’t have a chance to finish the job?’

‘It’s conceivable. But the message referred to a woman – unless that was a misunderstanding. The connection was poor and when you factor in the language difficulties it wouldn’t be surprising if the sense had been muddled.’

‘I have to confess I’m totally mystified.’

He gave her a friendly smile. ‘If it’s any comfort, we’re having just as much trouble getting our heads round all this. Why was the body hung overboard? There are any number of places on board where it could have been hidden without being spotted or given away by the smell.’

Thóra couldn’t immediately think of anywhere that a man’s body could have been concealed, though she recalled from the plans that there were storage spaces and tanks on the bottom deck where they had found the blood stains. ‘Could it have been hidden in one of the water or oil tanks in the keel?’

‘We’re examining the water tanks. But I gather the oil tank’s out of the question.’ He tapped his pen on the file. ‘Perhaps I should share one more bizarre detail with you.’

‘I doubt I’ll faint, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Nothing would surprise me now.’

He ceased his tapping. ‘The postmortem revealed that the body had suffered frost damage.’

‘Frost damage?’ Thóra had to admit that in spite of what she had just said, she was nonplussed. ‘Did the temperature drop below freezing at any point during the voyage?’

He shook his head. ‘No. There was a storm but no really cold weather. A more likely explanation is that the body was stored in one of the freezers on board. But since we’ve found no traces of DNA or fibres from the tarpaulin, there may be some other explanation. Alternatively, the body may have been wrapped in plastic. Since I’ve told you this much, I may as well add that the woman’s body was apparently found in a freezer – if the captain’s message was understood correctly. But forensics can’t find any evidence of that either.’

Thóra would have given a great deal to see her own dumbfounded expression in a mirror. ‘I don’t know what to say. Nothing I’ve discovered has suggested anything like this.’ She longed for some sensible, concrete information. ‘Do you know when Halldór died?’

The detective shook his head again. ‘I’m afraid not. Most if not all of the methods used to establish time of death take account of conditions after the person has died. In this case the body seems to have been stored in a variety of environments, so we don’t have much to go on. It’s been submerged in the sea, kept in a freezer and maybe in a crate as well, so unfortunately the time of death is very imprecise. He could have died at any point on the voyage, though it’s obvious he can’t have been murdered after the yacht reached harbour. The postmortem showed too advanced a breakdown of various biological compounds that I’m not qualified to explain. So it can’t have been submerged there for long, at least not while the yacht was moving, or it would have been in a much worse state. In fact, it would be a miracle if it had still been there when the yacht reached the harbour.’

‘I’m afraid this is outside my area of expertise.’ Thóra was boiling by now and experiencing a desperate desire to fling off her coat.

‘Of course.’ He studied her as she sat there, her face scarlet, dreaming of the cold air outside. ‘Well. That just about wraps up what I have to say, so now I can get on with reprimanding the officers who conducted the original inspection. I try to do so at least once a day.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘It beggars belief that not one of them noticed the rope or realised it didn’t belong there. Of course, they should have taken along an experienced sailor or at least someone who was remotely acquainted with boats, but I don’t tell them that because I enjoy giving them a bollocking. It’s good for the circulation.’ He stood up and escorted Thóra to the door.

She drove up Skólavördustígur in a daze, then went into her office and sat there for a while deep in thought. Eventually, she leant over her desk and shouted: ‘Bella! Could you pop in here a minute?’ It was time to abandon all conventional approaches. Since common sense had proved nothing but a hindrance in this case, it was time for some muddled, left-field thinking, and when it came to that Bella was an expert.