Last Rituals

CHAPTER 19

Hey, dead Harald.

What's up, man? I'm getting mail from someone pretending to be the Icelandic police and some scumbag lawyer [Thora could not help being riled by thisdespite having been called much worse in her legal career]. Those jerks reckon you're deadas if, eh? Drop me a line, anywayit's all a bit weird.

Bye

Mal

"Quick, quick," Matthew said. "Answer while he's still at his computer."

Thora rushed to click "Reply." "What should I say?" she asked as she typed in the customary: "Dear Mal."

"Just anything," Matthew snapped. Very helpful.

Thora decided to write:

Unfortunately it is true about Harald's death. He was murdered and won't be replying. I'm the "scumbag lawyer" who tried to contact you the other day; Harald's computer is in my safekeeping. I'm working for the Guntliebsthey are desperate to find the killer. A young man is in custody who is probably innocent of this awful deed and I suspect you may have information that could help us. Do you know what it was that Harald claimed to have found and who the "fucking idiot" is he refers to in his last e-mail to you? Please send me a phone number where I can contact you.

Regards

Thora

Matthew read as she typed and as soon as she had finishedin record timehe gestured impatiently and muttered: "Send it, send it."

Thora sent the message and they waited in silence for a few minutes. At long last a pop-up announced a new message. Excitedly they looked at each other before Thora opened it. And they were both equally disappointed.

Scumbag lawyerfuck off. Take the Guntliebs with you. You all suck. I'd rather die than help you.

All my hate

Mal

Thora slowly breathed out. No mixed messages there. She looked at Matthew. "Could he be joking?"

Matthew caught her eye but could not tell whether she was joking too. He presumed she was. "SureI bet he'll send another mail with smileys bouncing all over the screen saying how much he loves the Guntliebs." He groaned. "Screw it. Harald obviously didn't speak highly of his parents to his friends. I think we can forget this guy."

Thora sighed. "Aren't we wasting our time, then? We could go down to Kaffibrennslan, for instance, and talk to the waiter who gave Halldor his alibi, if he's on duty. I do agree it's a pretty weak testimony. If he isn't working now we can just have a coffee."

Delighted, Matthew stood up. Thora quickly removed the memory stick, slipped it into her handbag, and switched off the computer.

There were few customers at Kaffibrennslan, so Thora and Matthew had a choice of seats. They sat at a table close to the bar on the lower floor. While Thora was struggling to hang her coat over the back of her chair, Matthew tried to catch the attention of the young waitress. Then Matthew turned to Thora. "Why didn't you wear the coat you were in this morning?" he asked, goggling at the huge padded coat spread out on either side of her chairthe arms were so stuffed with goose down that they almost stood out at ninety degrees.

"I was cold," Thora said, as surprised by his question as he seemed to be by her coat. "I keep it at the officeI wore the other coat there this morning and I wear this home in the evenings. Don't you think it's nice?"

Matthew's expression spoke volumes about his opinion of the coat. "Lovelyif you were taking core samples from an Antarctic glacier."

Thora rolled her eyes. "God, you're so uptight," she said, smiling at the waitress who had appeared at their side.

"Can I help you?" the girl asked, returning her smile. She had a short black apron tied around her slender waist and was holding a small notepad, ready to take their order.

"Yes, please," Thora replied. "I'll have a double espresso." She turned to Matthew. "Don't you just want tea in a china cup?"

"Ha-ha. Very funny," he said, then turned to the waitress and ordered the same as Thora.

"Okay," she said without writing the order down. "Anything else?"

"Yes and no," Thora said. "We were wondering if Bjorn Jonsson is here now. We wanted to have a word with him."

"Bjossi?" said the girl, startled. "Yes, he just got in." She looked at the clock on the wall. "His shift starts now. Should I get him for you?" Thora thanked her, and the girl went off to fetch Bjossi and their coffee.

Matthew smiled sweetly at Thora. "Your coat is great. I mean it. It's just sohuge."

"You didn't let that stop you flirting with Bella. She's huge tooso huge that she has her own center of gravity. The paper clips at the office go into orbit around her. Maybe you should get yourself one of these coats. They're incredibly comfortable."

"I can't," Matthew said, smiling back at her. "Then you'd have to sit in the back of the car. That wouldn't work. There's no way to fit two of those in the front seat."

Further discussion of coats was put on hold when the waitress arrived with their coffee. A young man was with her. He was good-looking in a slightly feminine wayhis dark hair unusually well cut and groomed, and not the faintest hint of a shadow on his cheeks. "Hi, you wanted to talk to me?" he asked in a singsong voice.

"Yes, are you Bjorn?" said Thora, taking one of the cups of coffee. The young man said he was and she explained who she and Matthew were. She felt it unnecessary to confuse him by speaking English, and stuck to Icelandic. Matthew said nothing and just sat there sipping his coffee. "We wanted to ask you about the night of the murder, and about Halldor Kristinsson."

Bjossi nodded gravely. "Sure, no problemI'm allowed to talk to you, aren't I? It's not against the rules?" When Thora assured him it wasn't, he continued. "I was working here, with some others actually." He looked around the half-empty bar. "It's not like this on weekends. It gets packed."

"But you remember him in particular?" Thora asked, taking care not to sound as if she doubted his words.

"Dori? You bet," Bjossi said, a little self-importantly. "I was starting to recognize himif you know what I mean. Him and that friend of histhe foreign guy who was killedthey came here often and you couldn't help noticing them. That foreigner really stood out. Always called me 'Bear,' like my name means. Dori came by himself sometimes, too, and I'd chat with him at the bar."

"Did he talk to you that night?"

"No, it wasn't like that. It was crazy in here and I was all over the place. But I said hello to him and we exchanged a few words. He was quite gloomy actually so I didn't hang around."

"Do you know exactly when he arrived?" pressed Thora. "Given what you've said, you hardly had time to notice that detailyou had no reason to."

"Oh, that," Bjossi said. "He put the bill on a tab so he didn't have to pay every time he ordered another drink. We always make a note of when a customer starts paying on a tab and when he stops and actually pays." Bjossi flashed Thora a conspiratorial smile. "He did right to pay on a tab that night, because he sure was knocking them back. His credit card would have melted from all the swipes."

"I see," said Thora. "But are you sure he sat here drinking constantly until his friends arrived around two? Couldn't he have popped out without your noticing?"

Bjossi paused to think before answering. "Well, of course I can't swear he was here the whole time. I was pretty sure and told the police that, but in retrospect I could have been judging from what he ordered from the barand of course, I didn't serve him every time. He might have let someone else put a drink on his tabI don't know." He waved his hands in the air. "But it's not such a big place, and seriously, I would have noticed if he'd left. I reckon so, anyway. I think."

Thora was stumped. What else could she ask about that night? The waiter didn't seem that sure of himself and her confidence in Halldor's alibi had been severely shaken. After thanking Bjossi she gave him her card in case he remembered anything more, though this seemed unlikely. She turned to Matthew and her now tepid coffee and told him, between sips, what the waiter had said. They finished their coffee and Thora noticed that it was time to go home, so they paid and left.

It was almost five but the traffic was still light. Few people were out and about in the cold and blustery weather. The handful of pedestrians hurried along without stopping to look around or window-shop. Instead of going to her office, Thora decided to ask Matthew to drive her to the parking garage, and she'd just make her way home from there. She rang Bella to let her know that she wouldn't be in until the next morning and find out about any business involving her that had come up in her absence.

"Hello," came the answer on the phoneno mention of the company name or who was speaking.

"Bella," Thora said, attempting to disguise her displeasure. "It's Thora, I'm not coming back today. But I'll be in at eight tomorrow morning."

"Huh" was the delphic reply.

"Any messages for me?"

"How should I know?" Bella said.

"How? Well, I'm such an optimist I thought the secretary and switchboard operator might have accidentally taken a message. Of course that's absurd of me."

A short silence followed on the other end of the line and Thora could almost hear Bella softly counting down the seconds. "It's five o'clockI don't have to say anything more to you. I'm done for the day." Bella rang off.

Thora stared at her mobile, then saidmore to herself than to Matthew: "Do you reckon Bella could be that Mal character?"

"What?" Matthew had reached the parking garage and pulled in.

"Oh, nothing," Thora said, unfastening her seat belt. "What do you do in the evenings, anyway?"

"This and that," Matthew replied. "Go out for a meal, stroll down to the bars downtown sometimesnow and again I've done some sightseeing, museums and the like."

Thora felt sorry for himit must be rather lonely. "It's Friday tomorrow and my children are going to stay with their father. I'll invite you round for a meal this weekend. How would you like that?"

Matthew smiled. "Great, if you promise not to cook fish. If I eat any more fish I'll start growing fins."

"No, I was thinking about something a bit cozierlike ordering a pizza," Thora said before getting out of the car. She hoped Matthew would drive away before she reached the car she had on loan from the garage. If he thought her coat was cheesy, he'd have a heart attack seeing the vehicle she was driving. But her wish was not grantedMatthew waited to make sure she got into her car and when she unlocked the door she heard him call out to her. She looked around and saw him leaning out of the window.

"You're joking, of course," he called loudly. "Is that your car?"

Ignoring his mocking laugh, Thora called back: "Want to swap?"

Matthew shook his head and wound up the window. Then he drove away, still chuckling to himself as far as she could tell.

The previous evening, Thora had arranged for her daughter to go to a friend's house after school. She dropped by there to pick Soley up and thanked the friend's mother, a young and rather sassy woman, who told her it was nothingactually it was easier to have the two of them because they could keep each other occupied. Thora thanked her again and told her that she would hopefully be able to repay the favor sometime soon. Sometime when the sun started rising in the west.

There was a crowd at the front door to her houseGylfi's friends had been round and were just leaving. The floor was cluttered with a heap of coats, sneakers, and beat-up rucksacks that served as bookbags. The owners, three gangling boys whom Thora knew well and one girl who was less familiar, were getting ready to leave and trying to identify pairs of shoes.

"Hi," said Thora cheerily as she squeezed past the group. Her son watched from the hallway door. He seemed just as morose as he had that morning. "Were you doing your homework?" Thora asked, well aware that this was inconceivable. At that age youngsters did not study togetheranyone suggesting such a thing would be ostracized on the spot. But as a parent it was her duty to make such stupid remarks.

"Er, no," answered Patti, Gylfi's best friend for years. He was a good lad and his new thing was being able to say how many months, days, and hours he had left until he could get his driver's license. A few times Thora had checked the figures, and generally he wasn't far off.

Thora smiled at the girl, who looked away shyly. She simply could not remember her name, although she had been turning up at their house more and more recently. Gylfi had matured a lotmaybe her son was in love with the girl, or perhaps they were even going out together? She looked sweet enough but hardly stood knee-high to Gylfi and his friends.

Soley, who had followed Thora in, had taken off her shoes and coat and arranged them neatly where they belonged. She looked at the teenagers, placed her hands on her hips, and asked them in a housekeeperly voice: "Were you jumping on the bed? You're not allowed toit ruins the mattress."

Her brother blushed with embarrassment and shrieked: "What did I do to deserve such a family of retards? I hate you both!" He stormed out and slammed the door behind him. His friends were embarrassed as well and left hurriedly.

"Bye-bye," Patti said as he closed the door behind them. Before the door shut completely he seemed to have second thoughts and stuck his head back in to announce: "You're not half as retarded as my familyGylfi's just going through a moody phase."

Thora smiled and thanked him. At least this was an effort at courtesyalthough the wording could have been more polished. "Well," she said to her daughter, "shall we make some food?" With a conscientious nod the girl lugged one of the shopping bags into the kitchen.

After dinner togethermicrowave lasagna Thora had picked up at the store and pitas she had grabbed thinking they were garlic breadher daughter went off to her room to play while her son tidied up the dishes. He clearly regretted his rash remarks about the mental faculties of his mother and sister but could not bring himself to apologize. Thora feigned nonchalance and hoped she was taking the right approachmaybe in the end he would tell her what was troubling him. She thought she had made it clear to him that she was there if and when he needed her. After a cautious peck on the cheek to thank him for his help, she was rewarded with a dopey grin. Then he went to his room.

Thora decided to take advantage of the peace and quiet that had suddenly descended to examine the files she had copied from Harald's computer. She fetched her laptop and settled down on the sofa. First she looked at several shots of cooking and the tongue operation, which was dated September 17. Opening them one after the other, she zoomed in on parts that might be interesting, and this made the photographs slightly less revolting. The main theme was the mouth and the operation itself, but various details could be discerned beyond Harald's jaws. The operation had been performed in someone's housethat was certainbecause what was visible of the surroundings could not possibly be a doctor's or dentist's office. She could see a coffee table littered with half-full or empty glasses, beer cans, and other trashand a huge ashtray filled to the brim. It was also clearly not where Harald lived. This apartment looked much scruffier and cheaper than his pristine modern abode.

One photograph showed part of the body of the person performing or assisting with the operation. He or she was wearing a light brown T-shirt bearing a slogan which was made illegible by the folds in it. She managed to discern the number 100 and "lico"

No incision had been made in the first two photographs but the third was taken after the knife had been appliedblood was pouring out of the side of Harald's mouth and an arm that was visible was spattered with bloodstains. The blood must have spurted everywhere when the tongue was cutif tongue wounds were like ordinary head injuries, it would have bled profusely. Thora squinted at the arm and zoomed in on what looked like a tattoo. This turned out to be correctthe word "crap" was etched into the arm. No decoration or frillsjust "crap." There was nothing else to see in the tongue pictures.

The cookery photographs had caught Thora's attention because they were dated just before Harald was murderedat the time when Hugi said he had gone off by himself and broken contact with his friends. The file properties confirmed thisthey were taken on a Wednesday, three days before Harald was murdered. Thora studied the two shots, focusing on the hands making a salad and slicing bread. Anyone could tell that they belonged to two different people. One pair was covered with scarstattoo scars including a pentacle and a smiley with a downturned mouth and horns. This must have been Harald. The other pair was much more delicate, feminine hands with slim fingers and neatly trimmed short nails. Thora zoomed in on one finger that had a single ring apparently set with a diamond or some other transparent stone. The ring looked too ordinary to stick in anyone's mind, but she could try showing it to Hugi to find out whether he recognized it.

One thought in particular was preying on Thora's mind, something which had been plaguing her ever since she first went to Harald's apartment. It was the German magazine Bunte in the bathroom. She was absolutely certain that Harald would not read that kind of women's magazine. The Icelanders could be ruled out too. It must have been brought there by a Germanand a woman. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes had been smiling on the cover about the expected addition to their family. If her memory served her well, the baby was born that autumn. Could Harald have had a visitor from Germanysomeone who stayed with him so that he did not have time to go out with his friends? Thora called Matthew, who answered on the third ring.

"Where are youis this a bad time?" she asked when she heard the noise in the background.

"No, no," said Matthew, his mouth full. He swallowed. "I've gone out for a meal. Had some meat. What's updo you want to come and have dessert with me?"

"Er, no thanks." Thora could feel how much she really wanted to. It was nice to go out to dinner, dress up, and drink a toast in glasses that someone else would wash up. "There's school tomorrow and I have to make sure the kids go to bed at a reasonable hour. No, I just called to find out if you have the number of Harald's cleaner. I suspect someone was with him just before the murderand possibly even stayed there. All the signs are that the guest was a German woman."

"I have the number somewhere on my address list. Do you want me to phone? I've spoken to her before and she speaks good English. That might be easiestshe doesn't know you, but she'll definitely remember me because I paid her last bill."

Thora agreed and he promised to call back. She used the time to tell her daughter to get ready for bed and was about to brush her teeth for her when Matthew phoned back. Thora lodged her mobile between her shoulder and cheek so that she could talk while she handled Soley's dental care.

"Listen, she says that the bed in the spare bedroom was used. And there were things in the bathrooma disposable razor, a woman's razorwhich suggests you're right."

"Did she inform the police?"

"No, she didn't think it mattered because Harald wasn't murdered in his own place. She also said there had often been guests, sometimes more than just one or two at a time. Generally there was more partying when they were around than there was with this particular visitor."

"Could he have had a German girlfriend?"

"Who flew all the way over here and then slept in the spare bed? I doubt it. I never heard any German girlfriend mentioned either."

"They could have quarreled." Thora thought for a moment. "Or maybe it wasn't a girlfriend, just a friend or relative. His sister maybe?"

Matthew paused. "If that's the case I don't think we should go there."

"Are you crazy?" snapped Thora. "Why the hell not?"

"She's had problems recentlyher brother was murdered, and there's a minor crisis surrounding her own future."

"In what way?" asked Thora.

"She's a very gifted cellist and wants to make a career of it. Her father wants her to study business and take over the bank. There's no one lefteven if Harald were still alive he would have been out of the question. The disagreement over her studies had arisen before he was murdered."

"Does she wear jewelry?" Thora asked. The hands on the photograph could well have belonged to a cellistwith exceptionally short and well-kept nails.

"No, never. She's not the type," Matthew answered. "She doesn't go in for accessories at all."

"Not even a little diamond ring?"

A short silence and then: "Yes, I think maybe she has. How do you know?"

After Thora had described the photographs, Matthew promised to consider contacting the girl, and they said good-bye.

"Aren't you done yet?" her daughter said through a mouth full of toothpaste froth. She'd had to put up with having her teeth brushed for the duration of a whole phone callpearly white, until tomorrow at least. Thora tucked her in and read to her until she began to grow drowsy. She kissed her half-sleeping child on the forehead, switched off the light, and shut the door. Then she went back to her computer.

After two hours of perusing Harald's other files without finding anything useful, she gave up and switched off the laptop. She decided to get into bed and read the copy of Malleus Maleficarum that Matthew had told her to look into. It was bound to be an interesting read.

She opened the book and a folded piece of paper fell out.

"Shut up," Marta Mist growled. "It won't work unless we all concentrate."

"Shut up yourself," retorted Andri. "I can talk if I want."

Briet thought she saw Marta Mist bare her teeth, but could not be sure because the room was dimly litthe only light came from a few liquid candles that had been spread around the sitting room. "Oh, stop arguing and let's get this over with." She made herself comfortable on the floor where they were sitting cross-legged in a tight circle.

"Yes, for God's sake," mumbled Dori, rubbing his eyes. "I was going to have an early night and can't be bothered to carry on with this crap all night."

"Crap?" said Marta Mist, clearly still in a temper. "I thought we all agreed to do this. Did I misunderstand you?"

Dori groaned. "No, don't twist my words. Just get it over with."

"It's just not the same as it was at Harald's place," Brjann chipped in. He had made little contribution until then. He scanned their faces. "Harald's gone. I'm not sure it will work without him."

Andri ignored the remark about his apartment. "We can't do much about Harald not being here." He reached for an ashtray. "What was that old cow's name again?"

"Thora Gudmundsdottir," answered Briet. "The lawyer."

"Okay," said Andri. "Let's start. Agreed?" He looked at the others who either nodded or shrugged. "Who wants to start?"

Briet looked at Marta Mist. "You start," she said, trying to butter up her friend. "You're the best at this by far, and it's important to do it properly."

Marta Mist ignored her attempt at flattery. She looked round the circle. "You know this woman could get us into a hell of a lot of trouble if she starts sticking her nose in the wrong places. It was pure luck that the cops went offtrack."

"We're all aware of that," Brjann said on their behalf. "One hundred percent."

"Good," said Marta Mist. She placed her hands on her thighs. "Absolute silence, please." No one spoke a word. She picked up the thick pile of papers that was in the middle of the circle and a small bowl of red liquid. She put the papers down in front of her and positioned the bowl by her side. Briet solemnly handed her a chopstick. Marta Mist dipped it into the viscous liquid and drew a symbol onto the paper with slow strokes. She closed her eyes and began to chant in a low, eerie voice: "If you wish your enemies to fear you"