House of Evidence(101)
“I was using the jackhammer to knock out a fireplace that had been bricked in, down in the basement of the house. The gun was lying at the bottom of the hearth.”
“Do you know how it might have gotten there?”
“Either it was there when the fireplace got bricked in, or it fell down the chimney.”
“Was there anything else there?”
“Yeah, one or two dead birds, as far as I remember. They must have flown down the chimney and got stuck.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, there was some kind of cord, and then there was a weight like what they used to use on shop scales back in the old days. Apart from that there was just a lot of dirt.”
“What happened to the gun?”
“Jacob, the one that’s just been shot, was hovering over me, and he took it. I never saw it again.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Nothing. He just said that I could go, that he would clean up the rubble himself.”
“You didn’t ask him about the gun later?”
“No. But he was bloody difficult when I was trying to bill him for the work. It all turned into a complete pain.”
“What do you think he did with the gun?”
“Probably threw it away with the other rubbish. It seemed a bit rusty to me.”
It was almost eleven o’clock when Hrefna took a taxi to Borgartún.
She began checking through the case reports, and it was not long before she found what she was looking for. “Deceased was sighted on the roof of his house on Tuesday, January 16. According to witness, he was fixing the chimney stack.”
Egill had clearly typed this. Hrefna counted seven misprints.
“You weren’t asleep, were you?” she asked when Jóhann answered the phone.
“No, not very.”
“Come and fetch me from the office. We have to go to Birkihlíd immediately.”
Diary XIX
September 6, 1944. The bridge across the Ölfusá River collapsed last night. One of the cables broke under the weight of two automobiles. I had warned people that this might happen, and had banned military vehicles from crossing more than one at a time…
November 12, 1944. Everything is going very well at the engineering studio. Thórdur is of invaluable help, as is Kristján. Thórdur told me to take time off, and he will complete the cross-sections…
November 13, 1944. I did not sleep a wink last night, I sat downstairs and thought. I keep on getting new ideas that will aid this nation’s prosperity and progress. Paid a few visits today…
November 15, 1944. The lack of respect for my talents here in Iceland has become intolerable. I have visited persons of authority, with good ideas and proposals regarding a variety of matters, and they all say that they will “look into the matter.” They do not want to listen. There is an old proverb that says, “Many a man might have gained wisdom had he not considered himself wise already.” The editor has stopped publishing my articles, as he says that there is no room in the paper. I went to see the President of Iceland with a list of good suggestions regarding his office because, as it says in Hávamál, “Who wanders wide hath need of wits.” The president only listened for a few minutes, and then he had a meeting to attend. He will talk with me at a later date…
November 16, 1944. Elizabeth has locked away my clothes. She says that Jónas, the doctor, has ordered that I stay at home. These people are all nonentities…I have decided to become an artist. My only worry is that I may not have time to paint enough pictures to meet the demand, like Kjarval…
It was past midnight when Jóhann arrived at Borgartún in his Cortina; Hrefna was waiting in the lobby and quickly got into the car. She had brought two large flashlights with her.
On the way to Birkihlíd, she recounted what Pétur had told her that evening. Jóhann listened to her story in silence, and then said, “I checked the fireplace in the basement. There’s definitely no gun there now.”
“Still, I want us to have another look,” Hrefna said.
“Where is all this leading?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’m sure that this gun is important. I also want to get an explanation for what Jacob was doing up on the roof by the chimney, assuming, of course, that Egill was right about that.”
It was dark around the house, so they had to use the flashlights to see their way to the door. Once inside, they headed straight down to the basement.
It was just as Jóhann said, the fireplace was empty but for a bit of dirt at the bottom of the hearth.
“Can you take a look up the chimney?” Hrefna asked.