Diary XIX
January 5, 1945. I am feeling well now. I wrote letters to the president and some of my friends, apologizing for my behavior this fall. It was inexplicable, but the doctor says it was linked to my illness. It distresses me for Elizabeth’s sake…
January 10, 1945. I am planning some changes in the basement of the house. The laundry room can be made much more pleasant. There is no need for the coal storage now that we are connected to the hot water main. The large fireplace is also redundant, and I have decided to have the opening bricked up…
While Jóhann telephoned Halldór, Hrefna went into the kitchen, switched on all the lights, and turned the radiator all the way up; the house was freezing. Then she sat down at the table and started to try to fit the pieces of this extraordinary puzzle together.
Jóhann entered a few moments later and began to make coffee. In the light of the kitchen, Hrefna could see he was pretty dirty and imagined she was probably no cleaner. Her hair felt absolutely stiff with grime.
Halldór arrived impressively fast, and Jóhann took him down to the basement to show him the setup. When they came back up, they had the gun in one plastic bag and the cord and weight in another.
They sat down at the table with Hrefna, and she ran over again what they had discovered. When it came to explaining how it had all worked, Jóhann took over. Halldór listened without saying a word; then there was a long silence while Jóhann fetched a cup of coffee and brought it back to the table. The room was finally beginning to warm up a little.
“Let’s just try and figure this out,” Halldór said. “Why would Jacob Senior take his own life?”
“We know that he showed symptoms of depression in the latter half of his life,” Hrefna replied. “His financial situation was dire, and he was aware that all the investments in preparation for the railroad had become worthless. He had tried to work hard during the war years to pay off some of his debts. He seems to have planned in advance for this possibility, from the time he had the basement fireplace bricked up. He wouldn’t have expected anybody to open it up again later.”
“What was it that pushed him over the edge?” Halldór asked.
“Matthías and Klemenz arriving in the country,” Hrefna surmised. “Jacob was very relieved when he learned that his brother had survived the war, and was looking forward to welcoming him home. Matthías overestimated Jacob’s financial position, and, thinking that Jacob would be able to help them obtain medical treatment, told him of the mutilations they had suffered. Jacob was devastated by the thought that he had, however indirectly, brought this dreadful suffering upon Matthías and Klemenz, and as some kind of recompense, made a legal transfer of half the house to Matthías. He knew that Elizabeth would be well provided for when the life insurance was paid out, but that the conditions of the policy meant it must not appear that he killed himself, which is why he went to such lengths to cover the means of his death up.”
“What about Jacob Junior? Why would he kill himself?” Halldór asked.
“Jacob Junior was probably somewhat mentally unstable, as well,” Hrefna replied. “This compulsion of his regarding the family home was very morbid. He was completely consumed by his father’s memory, and his life revolved around it, so it’s not difficult to imagine his reaction when he found the gun and realized how it had been used. Once all his various attempts to secure the permanent preservation of the home had failed, and he had burned all his bridges financially, he must have decided to choose the same way out as his father had. He probably felt it appropriate for his own death to become an enigma as well, even a kind of homage to his father. Old Alfred’s will must have been his last hope for rescuing his finances, but Matthías put an end to that when they met last Wednesday evening, the night he put his plan into practice.”
“Tomorrow I’ll check the gun and the weight for fingerprints,” Jóhann said. “We’ll need to try firing the gun to get a bullet for comparison. Then we can reinstall the whole setup and see if it works the way we think it does.”
“How did they manage to set this up?” Halldór asked Jóhann.
“The first thing, I guess, was to go up onto the roof and lower the cord down the chimney into the parlor, tying one end onto something solid up there. Then they went down to the parlor and fixed the lower end in the same way. They then went back up onto the roof, detached that end of the cord, and tied it to the weight, which they lowered a little way down the basement flue, readying it for use whenever they might need it.”