Last Rituals (21 page)

 

 

"Yes and no, sort of," Gunnar said warily in heavily accented English.

 

 

"Oh?" snapped Matthew. "Isn't it clear who supervises which students for their dissertations?"

 

 

"Yes, yes. Of course," Gunnar said hastily. "He just hadn't got far enough to need supervision by the department staff. That was all I meant. Thorbjörn Ólafsson had agreed to it. I watched from the sidelines, so to speak."

 

 

"I see. But I presume he presented an outline or idea for his theme, didn't he?"

 

 

"Oh, yes. He submitted an abstract, if I remember correctly, right at the beginning of his first term at the department. We examined the topic and broadly approved it. Thorbjörn followed it up. It was in his field."

 

 

"What was the dissertation going to be about?" Thóra asked.

 

 

"A comparison between witch burnings in Iceland and elsewhere in Europe, mainly in what today is Germany. Witches were hunted most passionately there, so to speak. Harald had previously researched witch burnings, in connection with his dissertation at the University of Munich."

 

 

Matthew nodded thoughtfully. "Am I right in believing that the Icelandic witch hunts took place in the seventeenth century?"

 

 

"Yes. Actually, there are records of convictions for sorcery before that time, but the witch hunts proper only commenced in the seventeenth century. The first known burning was in 1625."

 

 

"That's what I thought," said Matthew, looking puzzled. He spread out the papers he had put down on the table. "I find it odd how little there is in Harald's papers about Icelandic witches being burned, and I can't understand his fascination with events from a much earlier period. Maybe you could enlighten me; you might be aware of a historical context that escapes us."

 

 

"What events are you referring to?" asked Gunnar as he reached over to look at the papers, which were photocopied articles from academic journals.

 

 

While Gunnar read, Matthew reeled them off: "An eruption in Mount Hekla in 1510, epidemics in Denmark around 1500, the Reformation in 1550, caves of Irish monks in Iceland before the proper settlement, and more of that nature. I can't see a direct connection, but then I'm not a historian."

 

 

Gunnar kept reading. When he had digested the subjects of all the papers he finally spoke: "They don't all necessarily have to be directly connected with his dissertation topic. Harald could have obtained these articles for another course he was enrolled in. Actually, the age of settlement is my specialist field and Harald did not attend my classes, which might have explained the article on Irish monks. But I would still conclude that these documents are connected with courses he took alongside his dissertation."

 

 

Matthew regarded Gunnar intently. "No, that's not the point. Most of these are from a file labeled
Malleus
—you're presumably familiar with that name." Matthew pointed to the holes in the margins of the pages. "My conclusion was that he had collected all this in connection with witchcraft, somehow."

 

 

"Yes, I know the name—couldn't he simply have put it all in an old file and not got round to relabeling it?"

 

 

"Certainly," said Matthew. "But somehow I don't think he did."

 

 

Gunnar looked back at the papers. "I must confess it's not immediately apparent. My initial guess would be the link with the Reformation—in a sense that was the precedent for witch hunts, just as in much of Europe. Religion began to change and these developments provoked a kind of spiritual crisis. Regarding the eruption and the epidemics, Harald could have been looking into the connection between the persecutions and the prevailing economic landscape. Natural catastrophes and diseases had a great impact on the economy in those days. Still, other eruptions, such as Hekla in 1636, and other epidemics much closer in time to the witch hunts would have been a more normal avenue of inquiry than the subjects of these articles." He tapped the papers on the desk.

 

 

"So he never mentioned this to you or Thorbjörn when you met to discuss his dissertation?" asked Thóra.

 

 

"Not to me. Thorbjörn made no mention of it either after he met with Harald on his own," Gunnar said, then added: "As I told you, Harald was still developing his dissertation. His focus seemed to shift—apparently he even implied to Thorbjörn that he was more interested in the impact of the Reformation than in witch burnings, but nothing had been decided when he was murdered."

 

 

"Is that normal?" Thóra asked. "Changing his mind like that?"

 

 

Gunnar nodded. "Yes, it's very common. Students start off zealously, then discover the topic isn't as exciting as they originally thought and choose a new one. We even have a long list of interesting research topics to let students choose from when they're stuck for ideas."

 

 

"Considering Harald's interest in witchcraft in general," Matthew said, gesturing at the artwork on the walls, "which he'd fostered from an early age, I doubt that the Reformation would have pushed it all out of his mind."

 

 

"Harald was a Catholic, as you undoubtedly know," Gunnar said, and Thóra and Matthew nodded dutifully. "One of the main aspects of Lutheranism that fascinated him was the general decline in living standards in Iceland around 1550, especially among the poorest sections of the population. The Catholic Church had kept all its property and wealth in Iceland, but with the Reformation this all passed into the hands of the king of Denmark and the country became poorer as a result. Likewise, the Catholic Church acted as an almsgiver, providing food and shelter to those in greatest need. That was cut off with the switch to Lutheranism. Harald thought that was worth looking into because the Catholic Church is seldom seen in that light. He was also impressed that priests and bishops in Iceland were allowed to take mistresses and have children by them—this wasn't tolerated in other Catholic sees in Europe at that time, and still isn't, in fact."

 

 

Matthew seemed unconvinced. "Yes, maybe. But could it be that his meetings with Thorbjörn weren't very detailed—perhaps Harald was cooking something up in his research that Thorbjörn, and presumably you, knew nothing about?"

 

 

"I wouldn't know about that, obviously," Gunnar replied. "But I didn't get that from my contact with him, at least. That's all I know. Of course he could have examined all kinds of topics without my knowledge—I didn't follow his every move, nor was I supposed to. M.A. students decide most things for themselves and work very independently. But I recommend that you discuss this with Thorbjörn if you want more information. I can arrange a meeting if you like."

 

 

Matthew looked at Thóra, who nodded assent. "Yes, thank you, we'll accept that," he said. "As soon as you find out when Thorbjörn's free, you can give me a call. Also if anything occurs to you that might be important." He handed Gunnar his card.

 

 

Thóra produced her card from her bag as well, handing it to Gunnar. "We'll see if the letter you're looking for is among the papers we have."

 

 

"I would appreciate that—it's rather embarrassing for the university and I'd prefer not to have to declare the letter lost. Unfortunately I don't have a card on me but you can usually get hold of me by just phoning my office." He stood up.

 

 

"About Harald's friends," said Matthew. "Can you put them in touch with us? We'd like to have a few words with the ones who knew him best; maybe they could shed light on what Harald was up to. We tried to contact some of them this morning, but none of them want to talk to us."

 

 

"You presumably mean the young people in that society of his," Gunnar said. "Yes, I should be able to. The society is based at our department so I bump into them from time to time. Actually I was hoping that society would fold without Harald. I didn't consider it a great credit to the university and certainly saw no reason to support them by providing facilities. But I don't control everything myself so I'm stuck with the decision. I can arrange a meeting with the two students who are at our department. They should be able to put you in touch with others that Harald associated with."

 

 

"That would be much appreciated." Thóra smiled gratefully at him. "Why do you think the society is so awful?"

 

 

Gunnar seemed to mull over his reply. "There was a minor incident about six months back. I was and still am convinced that it had something to do with that society, but I can't prove it. Unfortunately."

 

 

"What happened?" asked Matthew.

 

 

"I don't know whether I should say much about it," Gunnar said, clearly wishing he hadn't mentioned it. "It was hushed up and not reported through the proper channels."

 

 

"What?" said Matthew and Thóra in unison.

 

 

Gunnar hesitated. "We found a finger."

 

 

"A finger?" Matthew and Thóra spoke together again, this time in shock.

 

 

"Yes, one of the cleaners found a finger outside their staff room. I can still hear that poor woman howling. The finger was sent for tests at the university's forensic science department and it turned out to belong to an old person—a proper sex test wasn't done, but it was probably male. It was gangrenous."

 

 

"Were the police notified?" Thóra asked, astounded.

 

 

Gunnar blushed. "I wish I could say they were, but after our own investigation into the origin of the finger and the reason for its being on our premises, we felt it was inappropriate to notify them—such a long time after it was found, you know. It was the start of the summer break, as well."

 

 

Thóra did not think the summer break was much of an excuse. Maybe they ought to be thankful that no one was on maternity leave when Harald's body was found. Or that the history department hadn't decided to investigate the murder itself. "Well, well."

 

 

"So what did you do with the finger?" asked Matthew.

 

 

"Um, we…er…threw it away," Gunnar mumbled. His blush spread up his cheeks and across his scalp. "It was definitely not connected with the murder so there seemed no reason to bring up this dreadful business with the police. They had plenty of other things to think about."

 

 

"Well, well," Thóra repeated. Fingers, eyes, a letter about severed ears—what next?

 

 

 

CHAPTER 18

Thóra straightened up and leaned back in her chair. She had just finished plugging the last cable into the computer and all that remained was to switch it on. She and Matthew were in Harald's study—after bidding farewell to the cryptic Gunnar Gestvík. "I must confess that I find this theory of yours and the Guntliebs about a mystery murderer increasingly unlikely." She switched on the computer and a low hum indicated that it was booting up. "The blood on Hugi's clothes, for example—how does that fit in with your theory?" Matthew said nothing, so she continued. "And the papers just now—I don't quite see the link between the murder and a university dissertation, especially because Harald was clearly straying from the subject a little when gathering his material."

 

 

"I just know it," Matthew said, without looking directly at her.

 

 

Something about his manner struck Thóra as odd. Besides the fact that it was not like him to avoid eye contact, she noticed that he was staring fixedly at the screen of his mobile phone, as if hoping someone would call and extricate him from this conversation. Thóra crossed her arms and scowled. "You're hiding something from me."

 

 

Matthew went on gazing hopefully at his phone. "Well, I hope I haven't revealed all my secrets during our short acquaintance," he said with forced joviality.

 

 

"Oh, come on—you know exactly what I mean. There's more to it than the missing money and eyes." Thóra still had trouble discussing the gouged-out eyes. She still could not manage to express the idea clearly; words somehow failed to encapsulate it. "Really, that's all there is—oh, yes, and an e-mail that says nothing and now a finger at the university that the professors panicked over and threw away."

 

 

Matthew put his mobile in his pocket. "Even if I were hiding something from you—would you still take my word for it that Hugi can't be the murderer, or at least couldn't have done it alone?"

 

 

Thóra laughed out loud. "No—not really."

 

 

Matthew stood up. "That's a shame. To tell you the truth, I can't make decisions about certain information by myself," he said, quickly adding: "That is, if there
was
anything else."

 

 

"Let's imagine that's the case—and that the person who can decide to include me in the picture would allow it—wouldn't it be worth checking?"

 

 

Matthew looked at her pensively, then left the room. Thóra noticed his mobile was back in his hand. Hopefully he'd gone out to use it. She cocked her ear and could hear the muffled sound of his voice from the corridor.

 

 

A little gray box in the center of the computer screen told her to enter the administrator password. Not knowing it, she had to go by guesswork: Harald,
Malleus,
Windows,
Hexe
, and the like. None of them worked, although Thóra had been very pleased with herself and sure she had clinched it when she thought of the term
Hexe
, which stood for "witch" in German. She leaned back and looked around for inspiration. On a shelf above the desk was a framed photograph that she reached out for. It was of a young disabled girl in a wheelchair. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that this was Harald's sister, who had died some years before. What was her name again? Wasn't she named after her mother? Whose name was what? Anna? No, but it began with