House of Evidence(100)

“I’ll miss you,” he said sadly.

“Maybe we could meet up sometime,” Hrefna suggested, climbing out of the car and then bidding him good night.

There was nobody near the house or on the stairs when she approached the building. She was relieved not to have to put Pétur off with some subterfuge.

“Elsa, love,” Hrefna exclaimed, when she found her daughter in her bedroom studying Danish. “Come, let’s cuddle up in bed together, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Elsa looked at her in surprise, but put her book away and followed her into her room.

They climbed into the old bed, and Hrefna put her arms around her daughter. “The last time you said something like this to me was when Granny died. Is it something just as bad now?”

“Yes, it’s bad this time, too.” Hrefna hesitated a moment, before continuing in a trembling voice. “Dear little Halli…is dead.”

“Halli? Dead?”

There was a short silence while Elsa took this in.

“What happened?”

“He was hit by a train in Austria.”

“No!”

“Yes, sweetheart. Apparently he went out for a walk last night, and it seems he went along a railroad track near the hotel where they were staying; and because of his low intelligence he didn’t know that was a dangerous thing to do. He didn’t hear the train coming from behind. The engineer wasn’t able to stop in time.”

“Intelligence!” exclaimed Elsa. “It’s got nothing to do with intelligence; it’s just that he didn’t know it was dangerous because there are no trains here in Iceland. I wouldn’t have known that, either.”

“Maybe that’s true.” Hrefna was silent a while; then she continued. “When he phoned, Erlendur told us that this had been Halli’s best day ever. He took the first lift of the morning up the mountain and spent all day skiing—his last run was with the patrol, who are the last ones down when the runs are closed for the day.”

“I would have done that, too,” Elsa sobbed.

Tears ran down Hrefna’s cheeks as well. After a while Elsa asked, “What are you thinking, Mom?”

“I’m thinking about what you just said, and about the man who wrote the diaries I’ve had to read these past few evenings. His dream was to build railroads across Iceland; if that dream had come true, then perhaps Halli would have known about trains and their dangers.”

“Do you think he was a good man, this man who wrote the diaries?” Elsa asked.

Hrefna thought for a moment before replying. “Yes, I’m sure he was a good man. He had some difficult moments and was often depressed, but he was a good man.”

They lay there together for a long time until they both finally dozed off. It was well past nine o’clock when hunger woke them again.

“How was your day, my dear?” Hrefna asked.

“I was going to have a bath, but the tap wasn’t working properly, and there was nothing but scalding hot water,” Elsa said. “Pétur came and tried to help me. He said there was sand in the pipes.”

“Was he able to fix it?”

“No, it’s still not working, but Pétur was asking if I knew anything about this murder case you’re investigating.”

“Oh, so he’s resorted to asking you now?” Hrefna laughed softly.

“Yeah, but I knew nothing, of course. Then he told me that he had once done some work in that house where it happened.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He said that he was breaking something down with his jackhammer and had found some kind of a gun.”

“A gun?”

“Yeah, you know, the sort of revolver you see in the movies.”

“Perhaps he was joking?”

“No, no,” Elsa remarked. “He seemed pretty convinced.”

A revolver in Birkihlíd. Hrefna had to check this out.

Pétur lived in an apartment on the top floor, and as Hrefna mounted the stairs, she realized she had never been upstairs, despite having lived in the building for several months. She rang the bell, and Pétur answered the door in his undershirt.

“Sorry to bother you,” Hrefna apologized, “but Elsa told me that you once did a job in Birkihlíd, and that you’d found a gun there. Is that right?”

“Yes,” Pétur replied. “I’ve been wondering whether I should mention this to someone, but it was such a long time ago that I didn’t think it mattered.”

“When was this?”

“Around 1960.”

“What kind of gun was it?”

“Just an ordinary revolver.”

“Where did you find it?”