House of Evidence (24 page)

W
hile Halldór was at Birkihlíd opening the safe, Egill and Marteinn rented a car to make the long drive to Ólafsvík. They got a relatively new Land Rover, and the man at the rental office lent them a rope and an old shovel in case they hit heavy snow.

Setting off from town just after four o’clock, Egill drove as fast as he could, stopping for coffee, just under an hour later, at a café next to the oil storage tanks in Hvalfjördur.

Marteinn was worried. “How are we going to find this guy in Ólafsvík?” he asked.

“He’ll no doubt be holed up in some fish-workers’ accommodation somewhere,” Egill said breezily.

“Shouldn’t we tell someone that we’re on our way?”

“That might be a good idea,” Egill agreed, after some thought.

Egill used the café’s phone to ring the police officer on duty in Ólafsvík. He told him about their business there and asked him to make inquiries about Sigurdur in the meantime.

By the time they resumed their journey, it was dark and icy, slowing their progress, and the Land Rover was certainly not built for speed. Driving past Mount Hafnarfjall and up Borgarfjördur, the lights of Borgarnes, on the other side of the fjord, appeared tantalizingly close.

“They’re planning to build a bridge here, apparently,” Marteinn said, gazing longingly across the fjord. It took them another half hour before they’d made their way around the inlet and were buying gasoline and hot dogs in Borgarnes.

At nine o’clock they reached Fródárheidi, but the snow was falling fast and had formed deep drifts in the road.

“Let’s see how this thing drives,” Egill said, accelerating up the first slope.

The vehicle sloshed its way up the snow-covered road, but the drifts quickly became too deep for them to negotiate. Egill tried reversing, but the wheels just spun futilely in the deep snow.

“Better grab that shovel,” Egill grumbled to Marteinn. An hour later, they had progressed a mere twenty meters, when a pair of bright lights from a large road grader appeared in the drifting snow in front of them.

“Are you the cops from Reykjavik?” the driver asked, jumping out of his rig and trudging up to the passenger window of the Land Rover.

“Yes,” Marteinn replied.

“I’m glad I found you. Officer Helgi reckoned you would get into trouble when the weather got worse, and asked me to come looking for you.”

He turned the grader around, which had chains firmly attached to all four wheels, and hitched a thick rope to the Land Rover.

“Right boys, let’s be off,” he cried.

The powerful grader pulled the vehicle across the snowdrifts of the heath like a toboggan.

It was nearly eleven o’clock when they finally arrived at the police station in Ólafsvík, and were met at the door by a plump officer.

“Welcome you two, I’m Helgi,” he said cheerfully, extending his hand.

“Have you found out anything about Sigurdur’s whereabouts?” Egill asked by way of a greeting.

“Yeah, he’s here.”

“Here?”

“Yeah, I went to the fish-workers’ hostel and told him to pack his stuff, that you were coming to pick him up. He came as soon as he was ready, and he’s been waiting here since.”

Egill didn’t believe Helgi’s story at first—surely he had the wrong man—but once inside the station, Egill saw him; the young man they had met in the Old Town was sitting by the officer’s desk, ready to go.

“You’ll stay the night given the situation,” Helgi remarked. “According to the weather forecast, it’ll improve toward morning. I’ll make sure the grader opens up the road over the heath for you first thing.”

Egill sat down in front of Sigurdur, pulled himself up straight, and in his most serious tone said, “You probably know what we want to talk to you about.”

“Nope,” Sigurdur replied casually.

“Then why have you been running away?”

“I haven’t been running away.”

“You ran away from us the night before last, at your apartment.”

“I was supposed to play at a high school gig. They’d set up all the gear and sold lots of tickets, and I didn’t have time to go with you to headquarters.”

“Why did you come here, then?”

“I had another gig here last night, and then I was planning to do some work in the freezing plant for a few days, but it’s great that you came.”

“Oh?” Egill replied, surprised.

“Yeah, I’ve been asked to play with a band in the city next weekend. We have to practice beforehand, so it’s great to get a lift back to town,” he explained. “What was it you wanted?”

“We think you may have killed a man.”

“You’re joking!” he exclaimed, half-smiling.

“No, we have reason to believe this is the case.”

“Right, then I won’t talk any more to you unless I have an attorney present.”

“It’s quite safe for you to answer a few questions.”

“No, I know your ways. I’m not answering any questions here.”

“You’ve obviously got something to hide,” Egill said, growing perturbed.

Sigurdur turned to Helgi. “Hey, mate, where can I sleep?”

“Here, in cell one,” Helgi replied. “You two can share cell two,” he told Egill and Marteinn.

“I was going to go to a hotel,” Egill said.

“Then you’d have to take the prisoner with you,” Helgi replied awkwardly. “My shift ends at midnight and the wife is expecting me home.”

Egill frowned. He knew he didn’t have another option. He’d be sleeping in a cell with Marteinn tonight.

“Okay, well, I’m off to bed,” Sigurdur said rather cheerfully, given the circumstances, and made his way to the cell.

Diary XIV

December 12, 1933. This morning there was a meeting of the Monarchy Society. Magnús and I have decided to sail to the continent in the summer. We intend to make careful preparations in advance
and correspond with a number of people. I have already written a few letters today. It is a beautiful day and I am feeling well. When I look up from writing, I see the birch trees through the window. They stand there modestly in their winter slumber, while in the summer, they dress in leafy robes and give the house a warm glow in honor of my dear father’s memory…

January 20, 1934. City council elections. My wife and I voted for the Independence Party’s list of candidates…

May 1, 1934. Saw the Nationalist Party supporters marching through the town. More than 100 of them were wearing uniforms. There were standard-bearers at the front, with one Icelandic flag and two banners with swastikas. The parade stopped in front of the Midbær Primary School, where speeches were delivered. A substantial body of people congregated there, many more than for the social democrats or the communists.

June 6, 1934. On board the
Brúarfoss
, heading for London. This is my first trip abroad since I came home in 1920 after my long stint overseas. This goes to show to what extent the railroad has absorbed my whole attention.

June 12, 1934. Elizabeth and the children went to Leicester today, where they will stay for the next few weeks while I complete my business. I shall stay on here in London with Magnús for a few days, then we are off to Germany…

June 15, 1934. As I suspected, I have had little success in my dealings with English investors. They are willing to advance loans, if the interest is high enough, but they also demand substantial guarantees, preferably state guarantees. I have not found anyone willing to either buy or trade in our shares…

June 18, 1934. On board the train to Berlin. There is a great shortage of foreign currency here in Germany and they do everything they can to encourage foreigners to visit the country. Foreigners even get a good discount on railroad tickets. I am thrilled to be traveling by train again after all these years. I have become a little bit weary of Magnús. He has never traveled before and is completely helpless. I have to look after him the whole time. But he is paying the full cost of our journey…

June 19, 1934. Matthías met us at the station. He is looking well, and I sense that he feels comfortable here and is happy. He escorted us to our hotel…

June 20, 1934. Met Helmut Klee and his brother Björn this morning. They gave me a warm welcome. Helmut works for Deutsche Reichsbahn. He is going to introduce me to industrialists specializing in railway manufacturing. Björn Klee gave me some postage stamps with pictures of steam engines. It pleased me very much and I asked him whether he could get me some more of them, in return for Icelandic stamps…

June 21, 1934. I am finding Magnús very tiresome. He seems to think that we can invite ourselves to the mansions of the aristocracy here and advertise publicly for a potential king. I try to make him see that circumspection and a great deal of groundwork is needed for our enquiries…

June 22, 1934. Matthías introduces us to Birgir Valdal, who has lived here over the past few years and works for the Ministry of Education. He is prepared to assist us in our quest for a potential king but says he needs a good deal of time…

June 23, 1934. Order and discipline are the rule everywhere here in Berlin. The public are grateful to the National Socialist Party for having dealt with communism. The previous situation in the city was
such that the violence and killings perpetrated by the communists were intolerable. Nearly every citizen had at least once experienced a life-threatening situation as a result of street fighting. This plague has now been eradicated. Though the National Socialists may have placed certain limits on the people’s personal freedom, the idea that it is forbidden to express criticism of the regime is pure fabrication by foreigners. Ill-feeling abroad toward the National Socialists is often based on the fact that they are considered to be too demanding on party members, who must be prepared to make sacrifices to help fellow party members suffering hardship. They are required to eat simple rather than elaborate meals on Sundays, and to donate the difference in price to a fund for the unemployed. This policy of assistance is not mentioned in foreign papers. The fact is also suppressed that the German government wants by all means to avoid war, a policy that is consistent with German public opinion…

July 4, 1934. There has been unrest here in Germany of late, but today Hitler announced that the revolt has been stamped out…We are about to go home. Our visit here has laid solid foundations for our goals, but there remains plenty of work still to do…

H
alldór had slept badly. He spent much of the night thinking about the case he had been tasked with solving. Until now, all the clues had led down blind alleys, and he was at a loss as to what to do next. He would certainly have a further talk with Matthías and ask for an explanation for this visit to Birkihlíd last Wednesday evening, but he doubted that it would bring him any closer to solving the case. He finally fell asleep early in the morning, but was plagued by bad dreams. He dreamed he was at Birkihlíd looking for some clue, he didn’t know what, as water streamed down the chimney. He was madly bailing it out through the parlor window, which for some reason was broken, and he felt it was his fault. Morning finally came, and Halldór stumbled out of bed, washed his face, shaved, got dressed, and made his way down to the kitchen and his cup of tea.
Morgunbladid
slid through the letterbox a few minutes later, and he had only just begun reading an interesting article on police households when the phone rang. Stefanía leapt to her feet immediately.

“Perhaps it’s the minister again,” she said, hurrying to answer the phone.

“He’s just a bank manager now,” called Halldór.

“Hello,” she warbled happily into the receiver. Her smile faded almost instantly.

“It’s only a long-distance call,” she said disappointedly. “It’s for you.”

Halldór took the receiver. “Hello…hello.”

Erlendur’s voice came through the receiver along with a bit of static. “Hi. How’s it going?”

Halldór looked at his wife, whose ears were twitching. “There’s not much progress.”

“Right. Well, listen, I was in Salzburg yesterday. I sent the wife and kids on up into the mountains so I could have some peace and quiet here in the city.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah, I went to the police station and spoke with the officer in charge, a Mr. Kirschbaum. He was very friendly, and took me to the place where Matthías lives. We talked to some of his neighbors and various things emerged.”

“Really?”

“Yes, apparently, it is common knowledge in the area that Matthías and his servant Klemenz are queers who live together as a couple.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they even seem to be members of a club for men like that, here in the city. Mr. Kirschbaum found their names on a secret list the police keep of clubs of this kind and their membership. You can never be too careful with guys like this.”

“No, that’s true.”

“Well, that was all. Mr. Kirschbaum then drove me to Zell am See, and we drank beer and Jägermeister well into the night. He’s ready to lend assistance if we need any further help in this matter.”

“That’s good news,” said Halldór, looking at the clock. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah, Halli woke us at dawn. He’s off skiing and I’m just getting dressed.”

“Right, have fun.”

“Thanks, good luck.”

“Bye.” Halldór put the receiver down.

Diary XIV

July 20, 1934. My brother Matthías is thirty today. I dare not mention this to my mother, as she never initiates conversations about him. I thought this would change when Father died but I can see no signs to indicate this. I am writing to Matthías secretly to thank him for all his help in Berlin. I am sending him a little book of poetry…

July 26, 1934.
Morgunbladid
reports clashes in Austria…

July 31, 1934. Completed the purchase of a new automobile today. It is a Ford…

August 3, 1934. Hindenburg, President of Germany, died yesterday. The office will be amalgamated with that of chancellor, and Hitler will, consequently, become the country’s next president…

January 17, 1935. I have been unsure about whether I did the right thing when I decided on one meter gauge rather than standard gauge, as the wider gauge can carry heavier railcars with large snowplows. I have, however, just heard of a new type of rotary snowplow that digs itself through the snow, with big motorized blades throwing the snow to one side. I can have a railcar with a plow like that run before the train to clear the track. Then there is little danger of cancellations on account of the weather…

March 29, 1935. I have had quite a few projects to work on this summer. I cannot see myself being able to finish them all if I am to work on the railroad as well…

April 3, 1935. Had a letter from Berlin with many beautiful railroad stamps. Björn Klee has done a good job for me exchanging the Icelandic stamps I sent him last winter for stamps from various countries with pictures of steam engines…

June 7, 1935. I have had one reply to my advertisement in the engineer’s magazine for an assistant engineer. A young man, recently graduated from Copenhagen, Thórdur Thórdarson, his family from the Gnúpverjahreppur district…

June 8, 1935. I have now realized that there will be no viable basis for operating the railroad if it only goes as far as the Thjórsá River. There are, on the other hand, enormous opportunities if we take the railroad onward, north to Akureyri. Then there would be a large junction station at Ölfusá River, below Mt. Ingólfsfjall. From there the track would go via Biskupstungur on to Kjalvegur and along the existing road route north to Akureyri. The new snowplow makes this very feasible. I assume that a densely populated area will form round the junction station…

June 21, 1935. Now that there are three of us working in the engineering studio, I need to think about accommodation. The office is not large enough for all of us. Having to approach it through the parlor is also a disadvantage. Thórdur suggested I should have an extension built on the north side of the house…

August 5, 1935. Kristján is back in town after his trip north. He says there is an excellent route for the railroad from the Kjalvegur Road along Blöndudalur Valley to the populated areas in the north. There would then be a junction station near the mouth of the valley, and perhaps a branch line going to
Blönduós. The main line would continue through the Vatnsskard pass over to Skagafjördur…

September 25, 1935. We moved the drafting table and the cabinet into the extension this morning. Everything fits in very well there. The studio is very light, and will probably be an excellent place to work. I gave a small reception to mark the occasion this afternoon…

October 12, 1935. Young Jacob is ten years old today. He is an obedient and polite little boy…

December 1, 1935. My mother was suddenly taken ill during the night with severe internal pains and vomiting. This continued well into the day, before subsiding so that she was able to sleep. It is Sunday and difficult to get hold of a doctor. Sveinborg is sitting with her…

December 2, 1935. The doctor gave my mother laudanum to alleviate the pain…

December 9, 1935. My mother died this evening. She was conscious for a while this morning and asked about Matthías. He has not been mentioned in the house since he went abroad. I saw that it made her happy when I told her that he was well and that I had met him last year…