House of Evidence (14 page)

B
y the time they had finished reading the police reports on the death of Jacob Senior, it was nearly nine o’clock in the evening. Halldór, who was expected at home, asked Hrefna to go to Birkihlíd to fetch the old diaries; he wanted her to go through them to see if she could find any information that might provide a link to the present day. Since the same weapon had killed both father and son, it was highly likely that the same person had committed both murders, so Hrefna was to look for entries mentioning people who were still alive today and had some connection with the family.

She decided to take a police car to Birkihlíd. Hrefna rarely drove; she was unable to afford a car herself, and the detective division cars were supposed to be left at headquarters, unless exceptional circumstances demanded otherwise, and this was one such occasion, she decided. After all, she wouldn’t be able to manage the large box of diaries on the bus, and Halldór had asked her to begin reading tonight.

The front door at Birkihlíd had been sealed with wire strung between two small steel eyes screwed into the doorpost and the door, and then fastened with a lead seal. Hrefna simply cut the wire and entered the house. It was cold and rather dismal, but in
spite of that she did not turn on any lights apart from the one in the office, where she quickly stacked the books she needed in a box she had brought along, and then hurried out, refixing the seal before driving home.

It was a lovely starry night, and the snow squeaked underfoot as she walked toward her house clutching the box. She was tired and the box was heavy, so she was relieved when Pétur opened the door for her. He lived on the top floor of her building and earned his rent by looking after the property for the owner: a bit of maintenance and cleaning, and then collecting the rent every month from the other tenants were his only duties. During the day he worked as a jackhammer operator. He was a burly fellow, with round cheeks and small eyes that were barely visible beneath his bushy eyebrows. There was certainly nothing wrong with his eyesight, though. Pétur was a curious—some would say nosy—soul.

“I heard on the evening news that a man had been shot,” he remarked by way of a greeting.

“Yes, apparently,” Hrefna replied, as she climbed the stairs followed by Pétur, carrying a bucket.

“Any idea what his name was?” he asked.

“No.”

“No, of course not. They spare you girls these nasty cases, of course.”

“Yes, yes,” Hrefna agreed, slipping into her apartment and shutting the door without saying good-bye. Her daughter was sitting cross-legged on the floor reading. Classical music was playing on the radio. “It’s a Stravinsky concert,” Elsa volunteered.

“That’s nice, darling,” Hrefna replied, half-listening. “Did you have anything to eat?”

“Yes, I made some porridge. There’s a bit left in the pan.”

“I came home in a car, so I can drive you to school tomorrow morning,” she said with a smile.

“Great!”

Hrefna reheated the porridge and dished some out in a large bowl, adding lots of cinnamon sugar and cold milk on top. This was one of her favorite meals, and she ate it heartily. After cleaning up, she turned to the diaries.

She took them from the box and laid them out on her small desk. She read well into the wee hours, and when she finally went to bed, she dreamed of nothing but trains the whole night long.

Diary IV

March 17, 1916. When I travel by rail between assignments, I usually go in the rearmost car; here it is called “caboose,” a word with maritime origins, meaning originally a ship’s galley. The caboose car is red in color and is where the conductor sits, also where he keeps his tools, lanterns, and flares. He can observe the whole train from a small tower that sticks up from the roof of the car. I chat with the conductor during the journey and think I have learnt more about railways from these fellows than throughout all my college years…Today I traveled with old Joe Benson. He told me that it had been one of C&NW’s conductors who had the idea for the tower, which is called “cupola,” back in 1863. By chance, an old railway car with a hole in the
roof had been used as a caboose, and the conductor had stuck his head through the hole and seen how easy it was to monitor everything from this angle. He presented this idea to those who were building caboose cars for C&NW in Clinton. In Germany, this car is called “Güterzugpackwagen,” and is located behind the locomotive. It has, however, not got a tower…

May 20, 1916. The dispute between America and Germany has subsided for the time being. The Germans have undertaken not to fire on passenger ships without warning, but they demand that the Americans persuade the British to lift the maritime embargo…

November 11, 1916. I really like living here in Chicago now. I have got to know the city very well and attend cultural events frequently. I am learning to drive an automobile…

T
he paper had arrived on time this morning, and Halldór was perusing the front page as he sipped his tea. Stefanía sat opposite him at the table. “It was absolutely pointless to stop at four hearts in the second round of bidding when we had a slam there,” she said, referring to the previous evening’s card game.

“Hmm,” he replied, reading the headline on the front page of the paper: “Scientists at Kiel Marine Research Institute Support Iceland’s Stance after Full Review of Dispute.”

“Or to play a club when they had already bid five clubs. You were clearly not yourself,” she continued, taking a sip of her tea.

“I just forgot for a moment,” he said, turning the paper over. “Police Investigating Death of Reykjavik Man,” read the headline above a small news story.

“You’re always absentminded these days. You come home far too late and then think about anything but cards.”

“Erlendur and Ása are taking the children to Austria, skiing,” Halldór announced, changing the subject and then turning the page again.

“Yes, it’s all right for some,” Stefanía remarked glumly. “Whereas we never get to go abroad.”

“Hmm. I’m going to be late,” he said, folding the paper regretfully.

Outside, it was raining and a thaw had set in.

Diary IV

December 27, 1916. Christmas is over and I am ill. I feel somewhat sad and pessimistic. I sent a message to the office that I would not be in today. I am struggling to write this out of my system. I recognize this condition from my time in Germany, although then it was not as bad as this time. O’Hara invited me to visit at Christmas, but I concocted an excuse. He is a Catholic and would probably have expected me to accompany the family to mass, which I could not bring myself to do…

December 28, 1916. My landlady summoned a doctor for me even though I had asked her not to. He asked if I was prone to experience depression…

December 29, 1916. It is cold and dark, and I slept all day.

December 30, 1916. I have thought a great deal about Elizabeth today. As a rule I dismiss all thoughts about her, but at the moment I cannot help myself.

December 31, 1916. New Year’s Eve. I got up and had a hearty meal. I am feeling a little better…

February 10, 1917. The Americans seem to be preparing to enter the war, and have broken off diplomatic relations with Germany. President Wilson is still hoping to be able to avoid hostilities, but the Senate has passed an appropriation for military expenditure…

April 6, 1917. The United States has declared war on Germany. Initially they will support the Allies by lending them money and supplying them with military equipment. General conscription is to be passed into law. All German ships at moorage here have been seized…

April 23, 1917. Yet again I am experiencing living with a nation on the brink of war. Nationalism is on the rise and the masses are being stirred up for fighting. Pray God this will soon pass…

W
hen Hrefna had moved to the Hlídar district the previous fall, Elsa had decided to continue going to school in their old area, in the west part of town, which meant she had to get up early to catch a bus. It was especially hard on cold mornings, but that was the choice she’d made.

This morning she was able to get an extra half hour’s sleep, as Hrefna was taking her to school by car. They stopped first at Erlendur’s home. He had asked Hrefna to pick him up so that Ása could have the car that day; there were a lot of errands to do before they left for their ski trip the following day.

Halli was busy shoveling wet snow off the front path when they pulled up in front of the house. It was hard work, and he didn’t notice their arrival.

“It’ll be such fun for Halli to go to Austria,” Hrefna remarked.

“Yeah, I’m dead envious,” Elsa replied. She skied a lot as well, and often bumped into Halli on the slopes.

“We’ll go, too, when I’m rich,” said Hrefna. “Is Halli a good skier?”

“Yeah, really good. He does competitions, too, but he usually falls. He gets so worked up that he ends up going off-trail. If he makes it all the way down in the first round, he usually gets
the best time, but then he always goes off-trail at the first gate in the second round. They call him ‘Drop-dead Halli,’ because he is always dropping out,” Elsa explained.

“And he’s a bit gorgeous,” Hrefna added.

“Yeah, it’s such a pity he’s so weird. It was hilarious at Kerlingafjöll, when the new girls were all out to hook him the first evening. They were so embarrassed when they realized he was retarded.”

Halli spotted them and straightened up. He smiled, carefully examined the car license plate, and then walked over to greet them.

“Have you been skiing this winter?” Hrefna asked cheerfully.

“Oh yeah, several times, absolutely,” Halli said.

“But the weather’s been so bad.”

“We went yesterday and also on Sunday.”

“Did you go by bus?”

“Oh yeah, and I sat at the front.”

“Did you compete last Sunday?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“You must be a senior class by now? How old are you?”

The smile suddenly disappeared from the boy’s face.

“I’m not yet seventeen, no, absolutely not.”

Then he said enthusiastically, “If you multiply the first three digits on your car license plate by two, because they are two different numbers, and add nineteen, because it’s January the nineteenth today, you get 1973; and it is exactly 1973 now. Absolutely.”

A broad grin lit up his face again.

Erlendur emerged from the house, made his way down the shoveled path, and climbed into the backseat. They waved to Halli and pulled away.

“Halli was a bit down earlier when I asked him his age,” Hrefna said to Erlendur a moment later.

“Yeah, poor chap,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “He was seventeen in November, but they decided his IQ wasn’t high enough for the driving test. He’s not likely to develop any further, so that’s probably a final decision. He’s taking it hard, so this is how he deals with it; he pretends he’s not yet seventeen.”

“Well, I’m not going to take a driving test when I’m seventeen,” Elsa said.

Erlendur smiled. “No, but Halli has been car mad since he was a toddler. I’m sure that I could teach him to drive safely, but it’s no use arguing about it. The trip to Austria is a way to make it up to him.”

Diary IV

May 2, 1917. They are entrusting me with more and more complicated projects. The railroad company is very busy, and I am continually traveling round the state of Illinois. Mr. Wolfert has given me good references…

May 8, 1917. Traveled in one stage from St. Louis to Chicago today. Passed the whole journey in the caboose car with Joe Benson. We talked about the war. He wanted to hear about the Germans, and finds it difficult to understand that most of them are just ordinary folk like he and I. Joe complains bitterly about being too old for military service. He was a Federal soldier in the Civil War…

May 9, 1917. I have lived abroad for nearly 7 years now, and have dwelt in Denmark, Germany, and now in the United States. During this time I have had to become fluent in three new languages. I fear that my Icelandic would have suffered had I not placed such emphasis on keeping this diary; each evening I must sit down and think in my own native language for a while as I write these lines…