Dr. Johanna was wearing a green raincoat and held a black umbrella, but Kjartan was in his trench coat and bareheaded. They stood a few feet away from the grave and stared at the man on the tombstone that Grimur had alerted them to. The rain had intensified during the course of the morning.
“That’s got to be the reporter from Reykjavik who arrived on the mail boat on Saturday,” Grimur uttered in a low voice. “I’m told his name is Bryngeir.”
Johanna walked up close and then circled the grave. She stooped over the man’s back and examined him. “The ribs were chopped on both sides of the spine from the back with two or three big blows and then stretched out,” she said. “Both lungs were then pulled out from the chest.” She walked another circle around the man and then added, “Those are the only injuries I can see.”
Grimur looked at them and asked, “Should we pick him up and carry him into the church?”
“No, no,” Kjartan said in a tremulous voice, “absolutely not. We won’t move anything here. We’ll do nothing. We’ll close the churchyard and immediately call the Criminal Investigation Department in Reykjavik.”
He clasped his coat around his throat, but the rain streamed down his hair over his ashen face.
“Whoever carved this man up like this had to be strong and knows how to handle a knife,” Johanna said. “It takes a lot of strength and skill to be able to cut through the bone like that. And the knife was big and sharp.”
“Will you call the police in Reykjavik?” Grimur asked Kjartan.
“I would prefer you to do it,” Kjartan answered. “This is all so way over my head. I think I’ll just take the first trip back to Patreksfjordur. I hope you can deal with communicating with the police.”
Grimur scratched the beard under his chin. “But I’ve got to hang around here and make sure no kids come near this,” he said awkwardly.
“I’ll phone Reykjavik,” Johanna said, “and ask them to send an investigator straightaway. I can describe the incident.”
Grimur was relieved. “Yeah and find Hogni for me and tell him to come up in his sailing overalls. He can take it in shifts with me.”
“I’ll do that,” Kjartan answered, swiftly turning and rushing out of the cemetery.
Question twenty-one: The ugliest foot. First letter. Thorarinn Nefjulfsson was in Tunsberg staying with King Olaf. Early one morning the king lay awake while the others were asleep, and the sun was shining so there was a lot of light inside. One of Thorarinn’s feet stuck out of his bedclothes. The king stared at the foot for a while and then said, “I’ve witnessed an invaluable sight; this man’s foot has got to be the ugliest in the whole town.”
Thorarinn answered, “I’m willing to bet you that I can find an uglier foot.”
The king answered, “Whoever wins the bet shall demand a favor of the other.”
“So be it,” said Thorarinn. He then produced his other foot from under the bedclothes, which was no more beautiful and had a toe missing, too. “And now I have won the bet,” said Thorarinn.
The king answered, “The other foot is uglier because it has five ugly toes on it, but this one has only four, so I can ask a favor of you.”
The answer is “Thorarinn,” and the first letter is t.