Dori was enormously relieved as he hurried away from the house. He looked over his shoulder when he had gone through the gate and onto the sidewalk, but neither Thora nor Matthew seemed to be watching him from the window. He thought he noticed a curtain twitching on the lower floor and cursed the nosy neighbor. That scraggy old bitch was still up to her tricks, he thoughtshe never gave Harald a moment's peace, complained about every cough and grunt.
The morning after one of their first parties that summer, Dori was sent to the door to hear her tirade, and how that woman could nag! He had been so hungover that every word and every wave of sound that came with it felt like the blow of a hammer on his forehead. He shuddered at the recollection, especially at how it had all endedhe had to push the woman out of the way to put his head outside the door and vomit. Understandably she was not impressed, but Harald managed to appease her that evening. For the rest of the summer, Dori had to keep a low profile whenever he visited. But the other party guests thought the story was hilarious when Dori finally managed to crawl back up to recount it.
His mobile rang. Dori took it from his pocket and saw on the screen that it was Marta Mistagain. This time he answered. "What?"
"You done?" Impatient and irritable. "We're waiting for you, come over."
"Where?" Dori didn't feel like facing anyone at the moment. He just wanted to go home and lie down but knew he wouldn't have the chance. Marta Mist would phone again and again, and she would come by in the end if he did not answer. Best to get it over and done with.
"101hurry up." She hung up and Dori quickened his pace even more. It was cold outside and he was exhausted. Before he knew it he was in the hotel lobby, shaking off the drifting snow that had gathered on his hair on the way. He ran his fingers through his hair, then shook his head again. Then he opened the door and went in. Naturally they were sitting in the smoking sectionwith a few cups of coffee and one glass of beer in front of them. Suddenly, Dori felt an uncontrollable craving for a beer. He went over to them and sat down in a chair, even though Marta Mist and Briet had shifted apart to make room for him between them. He could not bear the thought of sitting pressed up against them at the moment.
The girls tried not to look affronted, and Dori watched them slowly shift back to try to fill the space inconspicuously. Marta Mist was a genius at keeping her cool. She rarely showed any emotions other than outright fury and contempt. Wounded pride was not on her agenda. "Why the fuck didn't you answer the phone?" she snarled. "We've been dying to hear from you."
This infuriated Dori. "What's wrong with you? I was talking to those lawyers. What was I supposed to say over the phone?" When no one spoke, Dori repeated the question. "Eh? What was I supposed to say?"
Marta Mist brushed this off. "You could have freakin' texted back. That wouldn't have been too much to ask."
"Oh, of course," said Dori sarcastically. "That would have looked good. What do you think I am? A thirteen-year-old girl?"
Brjann chipped in. "What happenedare you okay?" he said calmly while sipping his beer.
It was more than Dori could take. He waved to the waiter and ordered a large beer. Then he turned back to the group. "It went just fineyou know. They have their little suspicions but don't really know anything." Dori tapped on the edge of the table with the fingers of his right hand while he searched with his left for the cigarette packet in his coat pocket. He could not find it. "I left my cigarettes therecould you lend me one?"
Briet tossed her packet at him, and Dori groaned. They were typical girls' cigarettes, snow-white with menthol, and super slim to top it off. But he snatched up the packet and took one all the same. A shame that Marta Mist was sulkingshe smoked real cigarettes, Marlboro. He took a drag, then removed the cigarette from his mouth, looked at it and shook his head. "How can you smoke this crap?"
"Some people say 'thank you,'" grumbled Briet.
"Sorry. I'm just so wound up." The beer arrived and after a long draught Dori puffed out his cheeks and exhaled with a sigh. "Ah, that's better."
"You didn't tell them anything, did you?" said Marta Mist. Her rage had subsided.
Dori took another sip, shaking his head. "No, nothing important. I told them a lot of stuff of coursethey grilled me nonstop and I had to answer."
Marta Mist looked thoughtful, then nodded, apparently satisfied. "Absolutely sure?"
Dori winked. "Absolutely suredon't worry."
Marta Mist smiled. "My hero."
"What else?" Dori said casually, waving his chic cigarette in front of his face. "Don't I look cute?"
Andri giggled and tossed his own packet across the table to Dori. "What do you think they'll do next? Do they want to see us again?"
"No, I doubt it," Dori replied.
"Good," said Brjann. "Hopefully they'll run round in circles and give up."
Briet was the only one not happy. "What about Hugi? Have you completely forgotten him?" She looked round at them all, shocked.
The smile vanished from Dori's face. "No. Of course not." He took another drink of his beer, which did not taste as good as before.
Marta Mist punched Briet on the arm, making her yelp. "What's wrong with you anyway? They'll never give upthey'll discover something. The important thing is that we don't get mixed up in it. You and your pessimism."
"People don't get convicted of murders they didn't commithe'll get off, you wait and see," Andri scoffed.
"What planet are you on?" Briet asked, undeterred by the pain in her arm. It wasn't often that she dared to confront Marta Mist, but she couldn't help resenting the way she acted with Dori. "Innocent people get convicted all the time."
"Stop bickering," said Marta Mist, her eyes fixed on Dori. "It'll be okay, don't worry. Let's go and get something to eat. I'm starving."
They stood and gathered their belongings. When they went to pay for the drinks, Marta Mist pulled Dori aside. "You got rid of all theyou know?"
Dori averted his gaze but Marta Mist grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look in her eyes. "Haven't you got rid of it?"
Dori nodded. "It's all gone. Don't worry."
"I don't even dare keep a joint at home. You'd better be just as careful. If those two start stirring things up, the cops might get ideas and turn up with search warrants all over the place. Are you sure you moved it all?"
Dori straightened his back and stared into her eyes. He announced firmly: "I swear. It's all gone."
With a smile, Marta Mist let go of his chin. "Come on, let's pay."
Dori watched her walk away. How amusing that she believed him. She, who always saw through him when he tried to lie to her. He was clearly improving in the dishonesty department. Cool.
Thora tried not to be distracted by the bushy eyebrows of the man sitting in front of them. She and Matthew were in the office of Thorbjorn Olafsson, who had supervised Harald's dissertation. "Thank you very much for seeing us," she said, smiling.
"It's nothing," replied Thorbjorn. "If you ought to thank anyone it should be Gunnarhe arranged the meeting. But I'm impressed that you could come at such short notice." Thorbjorn had phoned shortly after Dori had left Harald's apartment, and Thora and Matthew decided to see him at once. Thorbjorn put down the pencil he had been rolling between his fingers. "So what is it you want to know?"
Thora went first. "I presume Gunnar explained our connection with Harald?" Thorbjorn nodded and she continued. "We wanted to hear your opinion of Harald and also if you could tell us something about his studies, in particular what he was researching."
Thorbjorn laughed. "I can't say I really knew him. I don't make a habit of mixing with my students muchit doesn't tempt me. I'm interested in the progress of their studies but personally they don't appeal to me."
"But you must have formed an opinion about him?" Thora asked.
"Of course I did. I thought he was a peculiar character, to say the leastand not just because of his appearance. But he didn't bother me in the slightestunlike Gunnar, for example, who couldn't really stand him. I enjoyed having students who did things their own way. And he was extremely diligent and focused. As a rule I don't make any other demands."
Thora raised her eyebrows. "Focused? Gunnar gave the impression his research was quite scattered."
Thorbjorn snorted. "Gunnar's from the old school. Harald wasn't. Gunnar wants his students to stick to a prearranged course. Harald was more the type I likeon his journeys he liked to take a look down the side streets, so to speak. That's the way to go about it. You don't know where it will lead and it takes longer, but sometimes it yields windfalls."
"So Harald wasn't going to change his dissertation topic, as Gunnar claims?" Matthew asked.
"Far from it," Thorbjorn replied. "Gunnar's always convinced every-thing's going to the dogs. I wonder if he was worried that Harald would stay here as a perpetual student. It's happened, you know."
"Would you mind telling us a little about Harald's research?" Thora asked. "We were wondering if his interest in witchcraft could be linked to the murder."
Now it was Thorbjorn's turn to lift his eyebrows. "Seriously?" Thora and Matthew nodded their heads. "Well, I never. I'd be very surprised at that. History isn't so exciting that people kill for it very often," he said. "Anyway, Harald was planning to compare witch hunts in Iceland and on the mainland. As you know, it was mainly males who were burned at the stake for sorcery in Iceland, but it was females elsewhere. So that was his starting point. Since he was well acquainted with witch hunts on the mainland, Harald concentrated on acquiring Icelandic resources and studying the history of that period here. In my opinion he had established a good overview when he was murdered."
"So what about those side streets?" asked Matthew.
Thorbjorn paused to think. "Well, he had quite a fascination with Bishop Jon Arason and the printing press he's said to have imported to Iceland. At first I couldn't quite grasp how he intended to link that with witch hunts, but I let him proceed. Then he abandoned that angle for Brynjolfur Sveinsson, the bishop of Skalholt. I thought that was a better approach."
"Was he connected with witch hunts?" Thora asked.
"Of course," replied Thorbjorn. "He was bishop at the time, but he was generally considered to take a soft line when it came to witches. It is known that he kept some boys at the school in Skalholt from being burned at the stake when a sorcerers' quire was found in their possession. But on closer examination it's an untenable view. For example, he did nothing to restrain his relative, Pall from Selardalur, who was one of Iceland's most vigorous witch hunters. Seven men were burned at the stake on suspicion of causing an outbreak of illness at Pall's farm."
"This sorcerers' quire that you mentioned, was Harald particularly interested in that?" Matthew asked.
Thorbjorn shook his head slowly. "No, not that I recall. It goes by the name of the Skalholt Quire and Bishop Brynjolfur probably had it destroyed. Though he did make a record of the eighty spells described in it, I think. Harald was fascinated by Brynjolfur's library, which contained an assortment of manuscripts and books. And his personal history also aroused Harald's interest, of course."
"How?" asked Matthew, adding by way of apology: "I know very little about Icelandic history."
Thorbjorn gave him a pitying smile. "In short, Brynjolfur had seven children, but only two reached adulthood: Ragnheidur and Halldor," he explained. "Ragnheidur gave birth to a son out of wedlock nine months after Brynjolfur had made her publicly swear an oath, on her hands and knees, that she was a virgin. The oath was taken because of rumors that she was having an affair with her father's young assistant, a man by the name of Dadi. Ragnheidur's bastard son was taken from her arms and sent to be brought up by the father's family. She died shortly afterward, when the baby was about one year old.
"Halldor, Brynjolfur's son, died a few years later while studying abroad. Brynjolfur then brought back his only surviving heir, Ragnheidur's son Thordur, who was six by then. He soon became the apple of the old man's eye. Brynjolfur's wife died three years after the lad moved to Skalholt and to top off the bishop's tragedy Thordur died of consumption at the young age of twelve. So Brynjolfur, one of the great figures of Icelandic history, was left with no family or heirs. I think Harald was enthralled by the bishop's story and what could be read into it. If Brynjolfur had treated his daughter more fairly at the fateful moment, somehow you feel things would have turned out better for him and his family. Ragnheidur had tricked him, you see. Popular belief has it that she swore an honest oath in the church but allowed herself to be seduced by Dadi the same evening, in vengeance against the old man."
"I'm not surprised that such a story appealed to Harald," said Thora. He must have felt sympathy for Ragnheidur, she thought. "Was Harald still studying Brynjolfur when he was murdered, or had he turned to another topic?"
"If I remember correctly, his interest in Brynjolfur had started to wanehe'd studied him comprehensively. I'm told he took a week off before he was murdered, so I don't know exactly what he was up to then."
"Do you know if Harald had any other business in Iceland apart from studying? Was he trying to buy up antiquities or objects of possible historical value?" asked Matthew.
Thorbjorn laughed. "Do you mean treasure troves? No, we never discussed anything like that. Harald seemed to have both feet firmly on the ground, he was a devoted student and I found him nice to work with. Don't let Gunnar's hysteria deceive you."
Thora decided to change the subject and asked about the meeting in the faculty building on the fateful night.
"Quite right," said Thorbjorn. The playful glint had vanished from his eyes. "We were here, most of the teachers from the department. Are you implying anything?"
"Not at all," Thora retorted. "I was just asking in the vague hope that you noticed something that might help us. Something that may have dawned on you since you gave your statement to the police. Memories often take a while to gestate."
"You won't learn anything from those of us who were at the meeting. We left long before the police said the murderer appeared. We were celebrating our application for a grant in cooperation with a university in Norway. We're not exactly party animals, and we don't have much stamina at such gatherings. We'd all left before midnight."
"You're certain?" Matthew asked.
"AbsolutelyI was the last to leave and I switched on the security alarm myself. If anyone had been left inside it would have set off every bell in the building. That's happened to me and it's not exactly pleasant." He looked at Matthew, who appeared unconvinced, and added: "The printout from the security system can corroborate that."
"I don't doubt that it can," said Matthew, stone-faced.