The Silence of the Sea (29 page)

Halli had cottoned on to what was happening and dragged his attention away from the window, which suggested that Thráinn had indeed ordered him to keep an eye on them. When they stood up, he looked around in confusion, as if he was considering forbidding them to leave the saloon. But once Ægir had induced Lára to sit down again, Halli seemed reassured. Plainly, she was the one under suspicion, since there was no way he himself could have thrown the body overboard when he was underwater at the time. Still, he found it so ludicrous that the captain could imagine for one minute that Lára had had anything to do with it that he almost burst out laughing. Then he realised that just as he had automatically assumed that a member of the crew must have been responsible, so the captain had almost certainly sought outside his own ranks for the guilty party. People never suspect those closest to them. But the captain’s relationship with his crew was completely different from Ægir’s with Lára. They had known each other for a decade, while the crew were strangers to one another who had been assembled to perform a specific task. Perhaps it was a sign of Thráinn’s leadership skills that he should automatically side with his men. Or perhaps it was a sign that he was a fool.

‘I’ll fetch the girls. Don’t worry – Halli will wait with you.’ Ægir walked calmly out of the saloon, quickening his pace as soon as the door closed behind him. He did not run, however. Rationally, he knew his worries were unnecessary. Under normal circumstances he would not even have been moving this fast, but the situation could in no way be described as normal. Only now did he truly acknowledge to himself that something was seriously amiss on board and that the corpse in the freezer was only part of it. This boat was quite simply a bad place. He breathed more easily as he approached the twins’ door and heard the sound of the film.

They were still sitting where he had left them, side by side with their backs bolt upright against the headboard. When he appeared in the doorway they muttered a barely audible greeting but did not raise their eyes from the screen. The film must be incredibly gripping since he usually merited at least a grin. ‘What, not even a hello?’ He pulled a sad face.

‘It’s a really good film. Don’t talk to us now.’

The yacht lurched suddenly and Ægir grabbed the door frame. ‘Sorry, girls. I’m afraid you’re going to have to turn it off and come upstairs to join me and your mother. You can pause it, can’t you?’

They turned their heads, their faces frightened. For the thousandth time he marvelled at the magic of genes. He took it for granted that they were identical in appearance but it was beyond him to understand how a cluster of cells could be arranged in such a way as to make the responses of two individual human beings so alike. At times they moved in unison, as if performing synchronised swimming on dry land. This was one of those moments. They even blinked simultaneously, under furrowed brows. ‘Why?’ Uttered with one voice, naturally. ‘It’s nearly finished.’

‘Because the sea’s so rough that we want to have you near us. You can watch the film any time you like; it’s not going anywhere.’

They ceased to act as one; Arna folded her arms mutinously while Bylgja drew up her legs and said with relentless logic: ‘If we can watch it any time why can’t we watch it now?’

‘You know what I mean. Don’t twist my words. Your mother’s waiting upstairs and she’ll be worried if we don’t hurry back.’ He picked up the remote control. ‘There’s a TV in the saloon, so you can carry on watching it there if you like.’ When he switched off the television, the room was plunged into darkness. ‘Why have you drawn the curtains? Was the light shining on the screen?’

‘No. We didn’t want to see out. It was gross.’ This time it was Arna who answered.

‘Gross? That’s hardly the right word, sweetheart. The weather may be rough or stormy, but it’s not gross.’

‘We’re not talking about the weather.’

‘Oh?’ Ægir was puzzled. ‘What then? The waves?’

‘No.’ Bylgja shook her head, frowning. ‘The woman. She fell past the window into the sea. We both saw her when we came downstairs earlier. I’d seen you getting in the water and we wanted to watch you dive. We weren’t allowed out on deck so we had to come down here to watch out of our window. Upstairs you only get a view of the deck. But it turns out that our window faces the other way, so we couldn’t see you – only the woman falling. We thought it was Mummy at first but when she was lying in the sea we got a better look and realised it wasn’t her.’

Ægir swallowed a lump in his throat. ‘Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?’ Now at least it was possible to establish that the woman had been thrown from the deck above the girls’ cabin. He had been lowered into the sea on the other side of the ship, so for him to have caught sight of it the body must have been pulled under the keel by the current.

‘No, we weren’t,’ they replied in chorus.

‘There’s no woman on board apart from your mother and she’s sitting upstairs in the saloon.’ Perhaps this was the wrong thing to say; they might have to give a statement to the police later and it was unfair to confuse them like this.

‘It wasn’t Mummy, it was the woman in the painting. Wearing the same dress and everything.’ Bylgja shuddered. ‘Her face looked horrible. Then she sank.’

Ægir took a deep breath, making a heroic effort to control his features. If this was true, the woman in the freezer must have been Karítas. He recalled the material of the garment that had been billowing about the gruesome body and conceded that it may well have been the same dress. The colours had looked duller but then the sea would mute them, as it did sound.

‘I told you they wouldn’t believe us.’ Arna got up from the bed. ‘You never believe us.’

‘Of course I do.’ Ægir groped for the right words, for some way to distract their attention. His mind was blank. ‘Why didn’t you fetch your mother? Or someone else?’

‘We didn’t dare leave the cabin at first but when we finally went upstairs Mummy was panicking because she thought you’d fallen in the sea. We tried to tell her you were diving but she wouldn’t listen. She didn’t want to hear about the woman either.’ Arna looked doubtfully at her father. ‘Are you angry?’

‘Angry? No, not in the least. But do you know what? It was actually a good thing you didn’t mention it. Very good, in fact. I want to ask you to keep this a secret. You mustn’t tell anyone – anyone at all. It’s really, really important. Do you understand?’ He had been overwhelmed by a sudden terror that if it became common knowledge, the person who disposed of the body might think the girls had spotted him. He would have to be a complete monster to attack children, but Ægir wasn’t taking any risks. ‘Not Mummy. And not any of the crew. Okay?’

They exchanged surprised glances. ‘Why not?’ Bylgja had obviously detected something odd in his behaviour and her voice betrayed alarm.

‘Because this must be our secret. I promise to tell you why after we get home. I promise.’ He knelt down beside them. ‘We three know it happened, but nobody else must know. So we won’t tell anyone until later.’

But of course he was wrong: the perpetrator knew where and when it had happened. And he was one of them: Thráinn, Halli or Loftur. All equally implausible, yet all equally plausible. ‘What time did you come down here, Bylgja? Was it straight after you saw me lowered over the side?’ She nodded, worried that she had done something wrong. Ægir tried to work out what this meant. Bylgja must have left the window and told her sister what she had seen. Then they had spoken to their mother and told her they were going below, before coming down here and taking up position by the window. So about ten to fifteen minutes must have passed between his entering the sea and the body being thrown overboard. Which meant he couldn’t even rule out Thráinn or Halli. Although they had been out on deck with him to start with, he hadn’t been able to see if they were still there during the time he was underwater.

Ægir rose to his feet. He couldn’t stand this, couldn’t stand the sea a moment longer or the thought that he had placed his family in jeopardy. The decision to sail home was the stupidest of his life. His eyes strayed to the briefcase leaning against the wall by the desk, which reminded him of what felt almost like a previous existence; the daily grind that may not have put much in his pocket but was at least neither strenuous nor risky. He had been a fool. Looking down at the twins’ dark heads, he knew he had failed them. And Lára. And Sigga Dögg, who was waiting for them at home. He clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw ached. They had to get back to Iceland – the sooner the better.

In his mind he kept reciting the names of the crew as if they were a nursery rhyme: Thráinn, Halli, Loftur. Halli, Loftur, Thráinn. Loftur, Thráinn, Halli. Which one had done this? Please God, don’t let them all be in it together.

The discovery of the body had placed the mystery of the yacht in a whole new light. When Loftur’s corpse washed up on shore it had merely lent support to earlier speculation that the disappearance of the passengers must be due to a single catastrophe, but a dead man wrapped in a tarpaulin and left hanging on the end of a rope was quite another matter. This was Thóra’s third visit to the police station in the wake of the discovery; Matthew and Snævar had only been summoned twice. Perhaps they would be asked to come back too, but Thóra suspected the police were daunted by having to question Matthew in English, and Snævar doubtless needed time to recover from the shock of witnessing his friend Halldór in such a horrific state. Strong emotion presumably would not make for a clear statement.

Thóra followed the detective along a corridor that had clearly not been decorated with a view to pleasing the eye. He was the same man she had originally spoken to about the yacht, but this time she herself was a witness and the case had taken a far more serious turn. The officer looked tired and preoccupied; his nicotine gum was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a faint whiff of cigarette smoke. With cuts to the police budget putting extra pressure on her contacts, she imagined they would hardly welcome a complicated, time-consuming case like this. The man didn’t let it show, however, and Thóra was grateful. For some strange reason she felt as if she was to blame for the whole affair and kept having to stop herself from apologising for the nuisance.

The detective halted before the door to a small interview room that looked even less inviting than the corridor. Thóra sat down on a hard chair, feeling very upright and unrelaxed, not because of the chair so much as her own desire to get the conversation over with as soon as possible. The room was hot and stuffy. She undid the top button of her coat and loosened the collar a little so her face wouldn’t turn scarlet during the interrogation. ‘Have there been any developments?’

‘Yes and no.’ The man’s face was impassive as he placed a file on the table and took a seat himself. ‘We’ve finally had the initial results of the tests on the body samples. As you can imagine, things were considerably delayed by the fact that someone had vomited over the evidence.’

‘Tell me about it.’ Thóra was about to share her photocopier experience but caught herself in the nick of time; her cheeks turned pink at the thought that this should even have crossed her mind. ‘Have you been able to verify that it’s Halldór? Snævar was adamant but the body was such a mess that I don’t know how he could tell for sure.’ Pictures of the crew and passengers had just been published; their black-and-white faces had met her gaze that morning as she read the paper over her tea and toast. She had already seen photos of Ægir and his family but this was the first time she had laid eyes on the other three men and learnt about the families they had left behind. The captain was a widower with three grown-up children; the other two were unmarried and childless but had parents and siblings. The picture of Halldór had rung no bells.

‘Yes, we’ve received verification.’ He leafed through the file. ‘There’s no further doubt.’ He focused unusually intense green eyes on Thóra. Was he wearing tinted contact lenses? He didn’t seem the type. His irises were probably naturally that colour. ‘Just as importantly, we’ve also established the cause of death, though the postmortem results have only complicated matters. You see, it appears that the man drowned, regardless of how he ended up hanging on a rope. That’s why I called you in – to consult your opinion on a few details.’

Thóra was wrong-footed. It had never occurred to her that the man might have died in an accident. She had been convinced that he had been murdered and that the postmortem would reveal stab wounds or signs of violence. She hadn’t noticed any injuries on the part of his body that had been visible; her assumption had been based entirely on the way the corpse had been disposed of. Which is not to say that she had examined him very closely; she had merely gaped at the grisly vision for the instant it took her brain to register the badly decomposed head, then she had looked away to avoid following Snævar’s example. Her stomach turned over at the memory. ‘Ah. I was thinking something new must have come to light.’

‘Quite. We haven’t made this public yet. And I trust you won’t discuss the matter with anyone apart from those working on the case with you?’

‘No, of course not.’ She couldn’t exactly see herself posting the news on Facebook or gossiping about it with her friends.

‘I’m glad to hear it. The postmortem results are indisputable: the man drowned and there’s nothing to suggest coercion. His body showed grazing and contusions but not in the places you’d expect if force had been used. What’s more, he seems to have incurred these injuries at an earlier stage because they’d already begun to heal by the time he died.’

‘I see.’ Thóra didn’t really expect an answer to her next question. ‘Have you made any progress in finding out how he came to be wrapped in canvas and sunk in the sea?’

‘Well, I can’t go into any detail,’ the detective replied, ‘but rest assured that the investigation’s in full swing. Though it doesn’t help that all the people involved are either dead or missing. It’s going to be tricky, but we hope to get to the bottom of it eventually.’