Ashes To Dust

Chapter Twenty-nine

The excavation site was completely silent, except for the creaking beneath Thóra and Bella’s shoes as they walked through the slag on the pathway. It was as if they were travelling through a deep valley: nothing could be seen of the world around them apart from a clear sky and the faint traces of a street that had disappeared from the surface of the earth a third of a century ago. Thóra couldn’t block out the uncomfortable feeling that they were being watched through the broken windows of the empty houses as they walked by. Of course she knew that there was not a living soul here apart from herself and Bella; nevertheless she was plagued by unease. She got goosebumps when a light breeze stirred a loose paper plate lying in front of a little house. The house looked as if it had once been yellow, but the catastrophe that had overwhelmed it had given it a dull green appearance. This decrepit shack looked so sad and neglected that Thóra had to stop for a moment and stare at it. It was easy to imagine a dust-covered middle-aged woman standing at the window in her dressing-gown, waiting for life to pick up where it had left off in January 1973. Thóra shook off the image. She wasn’t used to letting her imagination lead her astray – it must be the guilt she was feeling over their business in the area. At best, it was immoral. The oppressive silence also played a part. Thóra was so unused to it. In the quiet neighbourhood where she lived one could always hear the sound of traffic – even at night an indistinct hum from cars driving down the surrounding streets managed to reach her ears. Here, there was no sound, although the town was just below them and people would barely have gone to bed. Ash and slag clearly swallowed all the noise, even the squeaking of their shoes. It was like watching television with the sound muted. Thóra and Bella said nothing on the way to Markus’s childhood home. Their conversation had petered out around the time they reached this street and were met by its silence. Thóra even grabbed Bella’s shoulder and pointed when they stopped in front of Markus’s house, instead of telling her they had reached their destination. She realized how ridiculous this was and tried to make up for it by breaking the silence: ‘It’s this one,’ she whispered, even though whispering had not been her intention.

Bella stared silently at the house.‘Come on,’ said Thóra, slightly louder now. She clambered over the tape, and Bella followed. ‘This’ll be no problem,’said Thóra, more to persuade herself than her secretary. What if the archaeologists turned up, or had set up security cameras to track any unwelcome visitors? No matter how she tried, Thóra could not think up any excuse for their presence here. They did have a reason for doing this, but wisdom told Thóra that it was a dubious one. The old man would probably stare at the stuff they brought back with the same dull gaze he turned on everything else put in front of him. If they even managed to find what they were looking for.

They came to the door and stood there for a few moments without saying anything, checking to make sure their torches were working just as well as when they had set off a quarter of an hour before.

Bella turned her light on and off for the third time. ‘Are you sure it’s safe?’ she asked, looking at the door. The oak was deeply scarred and appeared to have bent under weight or heat. Large, slender windows on both sides of the doorway were boarded with dented sheets of corrugated iron, remainders of Magnus’s attempts to save his family’s home. ‘I don’t like this, and I don’t understand why I have to go in. I’ll just keep watch, like last time. The house is collapsing.’Bella’s voice was plaintive and she pushed loosely at an iron sheet to back up her fears. As she had no doubt intended, the sheet fell with a dull crash, and she had to step aside to avoid it hitting her. ‘You see,’ she said triumphantly.

‘Don’t be an idiot,’ said Thóra. ‘The sheet was put up in an emergency to prevent ash from coming into the house. The house itself is secure, and it isn’t going anywhere.’ Thóra didn’t want to go in again, not at all, and wanted Bella there as back-up. She didn’t feel comfortable going down into the dark basement alone; if she had someone with her to talk to she could pretend everything was fine. ‘Let’s go, it’ll be fun once we’re in.’ Thóra pushed the door with her foot, and it opened with a faint creak. Dust and soot whirled in the beam from her torch.

‘It must be really dangerous to breathe in this dust,’ said Bella.

‘Since when did you start worrying about that?’ asked Thóra. ‘If you wait outside you’ll have several cigarettes, so it’ll probably be a nice rest for your lungs in here.’ She took a few steps into the house, then turned and looked at Bella through the murky air. It was as if she’d jumped inside an old-fashioned coal stove and shut the door. ‘Come on,’ she said, beckoning.

The sturdy secretary frowned, but finally let herself be persuaded, turning on her torch and walking in to join Thóra. She put her free hand over her mouth and nose and mumbled something indecipherable into her palm, shooting Thóra a look that displayed neither warmth nor admiration. Thóra tried to smile appeasingly, which didn’t really work as she didn’t want to open her mouth. She walked carefully in the direction of the basement door, happy to hear Bella following close on her heels. The only light came from their torches, since all the windows were still boarded up tightly. They fumbled their way along the filthy floor, though there wasn’t really anything they could trip over. It appeared that whatever loose items had remained in the house when the police took it over had been pushed to the edges of the room. Thóra tried not to dwell on why they had needed to clear space, but it was obvious. They had to get the three bodies out somehow. She was also trying to forget about the hard hat the archaeologist had insisted she put on the first time she’d come here. She quickened her step.

‘Is this the basement door?’asked Bella when Thóra stopped. ‘Isn’t it better if I wait here?’ She looked around and coughed. The air hadn’t got any cleaner and Thóra knew it would get even worse as they went deeper down, but didn’t dare tell Bella in case that was the last straw that sent her straight for the exit. ‘Then I’d be ready if anything needed to be done up here. For example, I could get help if the floor were to crash down into the basement.’

‘Enough of that talk,’ said Thóra, refraining from saying that the floor was more likely to collapse with Bella standing on it. ‘You’re coming with me.’ She opened the door and shone her torch down the stairs. ‘This won’t take us any time at all.’ She stepped onto the landing and set off cautiously down the wooden steps. When she waved the torch around the basement she could see that the police had removed more than just the bodies. Everything from the shelves and the floor was gone. Thóra sighed.

‘What?’ asked Bella, who had thankfully followed Thóra down. ‘Is something wrong?’ Bella followed Thóra’s example and shone her light around the dark cellar.

‘They’ve taken everything,’said Thóra. ‘Damn.’

‘Wasn’t that to be expected?’ said Bella. ‘What if the body that belonged to the head was cut up into little pieces and scattered everywhere? The police would want to make sure they had all the evidence.’

‘I doubt that,’ said Thóra irritably, walking farther into the basement. ‘The objects were removed because this was an atypical crime scene. No one had been down here for thirty-four years, so there was no way of knowing what belonged to the home and what to the possible murderer.’ She looked around again. ‘They had to take everything with them, if only to be able to examine it under better conditions.’

‘Are we finished, then?’ asked Bella impatiently. ‘You said this would take no time.’

‘No, not at all,’ said Thóra. ‘I think there’s a storeroom here somewhere, and the police probably haven’t cleared it out.’ She shone her light on the walls, one after another. ‘Especially not if it’s sealed.’ She walked over to two doors that stood side by side in one corner. ‘If they’d wanted to remove everything from the house there wouldn’t be anything left on the ground floor. There could just as easily be something relevant up there.’

‘I’m not opening those doors,’ said Bella, and coughed again. The dust in the air had become extremely thick and every breath was accompanied by a foul taste like musty old books. ‘The body hasn’t been found.’ Despite this, Bella followed Thóra and took her place at her side.

‘Of course the police have already looked here,’ said Thóra. ‘It’s out of the question that the body is anywhere in this house, let alone in the basement.’Nevertheless she felt her stomach muscles tighten. She grabbed the handle of one of the doors and opened it with her eyes closed. She stood for a moment in front of Bella, knowing that the secretary could not see her face. After a few seconds, when Bella still hadn’t kicked up the ashes and fled, Thóra knew it was safe to open her eyes. ‘It’s amazing the junk people put in their storerooms,’ she exclaimed, looking at the jumble of tyres, batteries, tools and unidentifiable spare parts. ‘The police have clearly moved things around,’ she added, pointing at white rings on the floor from where the tyres must previously have lain.

‘Do you think they’re here?’ asked Bella, poking her head through the doorway. ‘Those books and things?’

‘No,’ said Thóra, shaking her head. ‘Hardly. The stuff in this storeroom belongs more in a garage than a basement. I don’t imagine Magnus would have stored old books along with nuts and bolts.’ She used her torch to make sure there weren’t any hidden boxes or shelves where the items might possibly be found. ‘Let’s try the other door,’ she said, closing the first one. She couldn’t figure out whether she’d rather see boxes and other items hidden there, or nothing, which would mean they could get out of the basement. She opened the second door in the same way as the first. When she opened her eyes she knew they wouldn’t be leaving here any time soon. It was a full-sized storeroom with shelves on all the walls, each of them full of boxes and other things that weren’t fit for around the house but were important enough not to go in the bin.

‘Holy moly,’ said Bella.‘Are you going to go through all of this?’ She followed Thóra into the storeroom and pointed at the imprint of a box in the dust on one of the shelves. ‘The police have obviously looked through this stuff, so I doubt there’s anything important hidden here.’

Thóra opened the first box.‘This’ll be quick,’ she said distractedly, pointing her torch into the box. ‘We’re looking for books, a compass and money. Coins, I think.’

Bella sighed and walked to the shelf farthest from Thóra. ‘That’s easy for you to say,’ she said, picking up a child’s school cap. ‘It looks like everything’s all mixed up here.’ She reached for a frying pan. ‘What’s wrong with people?’ she asked. ‘Why don’t they throw away their rubbish?’

‘Times were different when these things were packed up,’ said Thóra, still examining the box in front of her. She found herself thinking about what was hidden in her own storeroom. She hoped her house would never be buried by ash, so that others would never rummage through her belongings later and make critical remarks. ‘People had to make do and mend, and most things were more expensive than they are now.’

‘What, even hair?’ said Bella. ‘Ugh.’

Thóra couldn’t stop to look at what Bella was grumbling about, since she thought she’d seen something that could be loose change glinting at the bottom of her box. ‘People still keep locks of their babies’ hair. It’s very common, although I don’t understand what one’s actually supposed to do with it,’ she said, as she reached a hand into the box. She pulled out two teaspoons, then let them fall back in. She closed the carton and turned to the next one.

‘This isn’t from a baby, I can tell you that,’ said Bella. ‘It can’t be.’

‘My mother has hair from her grandmother,’ said Thóra, adjusting her torch beam. ‘She could never bring herself to throw it away, and I believe she may take it with her to the grave.’ She was glad she’d brought Bella with her. If she’d been down here alone she wouldn’t have lasted long. Although the conversation wasn’t all that gripping, it helped her forget the foul air and the fear that the house might crash down on their heads. She aimed her torch into another box. At the top lay something lacy in a plastic bag that had once been clear but had started to yellow. Thóra pulled it out and saw that it was a christening gown. She set it aside and continued digging through all sorts of children’s clothing, for the most part homemade, either knitted or crocheted. At the bottom of the box were two books marked with gold letters: Baby’s First Year.

Thóra had been given a book like this as a gift when her son Gylfi was born and she had managed to write things in it during the first three months of his life. The book had then been forgotten and never used again. The box also contained various items such as plates for children, silverware and a large old-fashioned baby’s bottle.‘I just have baby stuff,’ she told Bella. ‘Did you find anything besides locks of hair?’

‘An old bathing suit,’ said Bella. ‘I think it’s mouldy. It smells bad.’

Thóra was removing the last few things from the box, when she noticed the baby’s bottle was unusually heavy. She pointed the torch at it and saw there was something inside.

‘What’s this?’ she asked herself, unscrewing the top.

‘What?’ asked Bella, looking up from the bathing suit.

A small mallet dropped out of the bottle with a heavy thud. ‘Who would keep a salmon priest in a baby bottle?’asked Thóra, grimacing.

‘A priest?’ said Bella.

‘Yes, a salmon priest. It’s the hammer a fisherman uses to stun the fish, after he’s caught it.’

‘What fucked-up religion do you belong to?’ said Bella, coming and looking over Thóra’s shoulder.‘And what are those marks on it?’ The light was stronger now that there were two torches. It was a keen observation on Bella’s part: the copper mallet was covered with black spots.

‘It could very well be blood,’ mused Thóra. Was this the weapon the unidentified men in the basement had got to know first-hand? She put it to one side and picked up a little shoebox that contained several tiny pairs of shoes,and underneath them an ornate knife. ‘Look at this,’ she said.

Bella moved closer to her to get a better look, and when Thóra’s phone rang she gave a screech that cut through the oppressive silence. Thóra was equally startled, though she managed to suppress the scream that nearly burst out of her. She fumbled for the phone and answered it. ‘Thóra speaking,’ she said, affecting nonchalance. She hoped this wasn’t someone from the Islands, asking what she was up to.

‘Hi, this is Dís at the plastic surgery clinic,’ said the voice on the other end. ‘I have a small problem related to your investigation into Alda’s death.’

‘Really?’ asked Thóra, surprised and a little relieved not to have to make up an excuse for where she was.

‘Yes. I was hoping you could help me. I need a lawyer.’