House of Evidence(16)
June 30, 1910. Today I graduated from high school. After the ceremony at the school, there was a coffee party on the lawn in front of the new house my father is having built on his lot next to Laufástún. Father gave me this book and suggested I should keep a diary.
Hearing a noise, Halldór quickly put the diary away and went out into the parlor. He found Jóhann and Marteinn carrying in some bags and Fridrik Leifsson, the pathologist, following close behind. Halldór and Fridrik had served together on the parish council and were friends.
“Sorry to be so late,” Fridrik said, as they shook hands. He squatted awkwardly by the body, examined it carefully, and then stood up.
“It would be very good to have an estimated time of death,” Halldór said.
“I’ll try and work something out,” replied Fridrik. He waited until Jóhann had taken a few photographs, then laid the body carefully on its back on the floor and loosened the clothes in front, before taking some instruments from his case.
Halldór retreated to one of the many windows and looked out at the snow-covered lawn. He knew that Fridrik was going to stick a thermometer into the body’s abdominal cavity and measure the temperature of the liver, enabling him to estimate time of death. Halldór preferred not to watch.
He spotted Erlendur accompanied by a man wearing a long black overcoat and black hat out on the street in front of the house. They had arrived at the yellow tape cordoning off the road, and he watched as Erlendur ducked underneath it.
They were met by a police officer, and the man in the black overcoat said something, pointing at the yellow tape with the walking stick he carried. The officer removed the tape from the fence and the man proceeded, following Erlendur through the gate and toward the house.
Halldór turned back around. Fridrik had covered the body with a green sheet and was scrutinizing his notebook. “If the parlor was this cold all night, then he must have died at one thirty, give or take an hour.”
Diary II
April 10, 1912. Snitkræfter og deformationer i statiken (stress and distortion in load-bearing structures) this morning. My calculations were correct. A German lesson with Mrs. Heger in the afternoon. Remained there well into the evening…
April 25, 1912. My mother and father arrived here in Copenhagen this morning from Hamburg. My father is on a business trip and they used the opportunity to visit me and celebrate my father’s birthday. I showed them the city today. They think that I have become very sophisticated. My father gave me the money I needed, and agreed to the plan I have made for the next four years. I am extremely grateful that my parents are able to support me financially, because I have watched some very talented young men being driven from their studies by lack of funds…My father has a significant birthday today, he is 50…
May 13, 1912. My fellow student Jørgen Renstrup asked me if I would like to travel with him to Tirol and Salzkammergut in Austria this summer for some hiking in the mountains. He had heard my accounts of my travels in Iceland, and is also a keen hiker. This will be a good opportunity to exercise my knowledge of German…
May 15, 1912. It is being reported in the city that King Frederik VIII died suddenly yesterday while traveling in Hamburg…
June 28, 1912. Jørgen Renstrup and I are setting off on a three-week journey to Austria. We shall have a sleeper cabin on the train…
Hrefna had led the old woman gently out of the house via the back door, past some uniformed officers searching the garden with rakes.
“What are these men doing?” Sveinborg had asked.
“They are checking to see if there’s anything lying in the garden that might help us solve this case,” Hrefna explained.
“The garden is very messy just now. Jacob Junior has tried to keep it tidy, but the wind blows garbage into it all the time. I really don’t know where it comes from,” she remarked.
It will probably get cleared properly this time, Hrefna had thought, but said nothing.
They were silent on the drive to Ránargata. The apartment was small but cozy: a living room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. The furniture was old and didn’t match, but everything was very clean. The only bed was a sofa bed, with its mattress folded away. Embroidered cushions lay on top, and above it was a large wall hanging decorated with matching embroidery.
Sveinborg immediately began to make coffee; she seemed to feel better when she was doing something. Hrefna sat down on a bench by the small kitchen table and took out her notebook and pen.
“Has Jacob lived alone for long?”
“Mrs. Kieler, Jacob Junior’s mother, lived in the house, of course, while she was alive,” the old woman replied. “It was first and foremost her home. She died two years ago, bless her soul.”