Jóhann fetched Halldór from upstairs, reminding him to put on gloves before handing him the telephone.
Halldór listened with interest to Hrefna, saying little. When the conversation came to an end, Jóhann asked for the phone again.
“Hrefna,” he said, “I need to get the housekeeper’s fingerprints for comparison. Can I pop in on you in a little while?”
“Yes, I’ll prepare her for it. She’ll probably offer you coffee,” Hrefna replied with a smile.
“Sounds good to me,” Jóhann said, putting the phone down.
He needed fingerprints from both Sveinborg and Matthías to compare with other samples. Matthías was still in the house, so that was easy, but he would need to pay a visit to Ránargata later, on his way to the lab. It might have made more sense to send Marteinn on such an errand, but Jóhann wanted to do it himself; after all, Hrefna was there.
Jóhann had been attracted to Hrefna from the moment he began working for the detective division. His attempts at chatting her up had not produced any results though.
“I really don’t want to have a relationship of that kind with a colleague,” Hrefna had said good-naturedly when he tried to invite her out to the cinema on one occasion.
Nevertheless they had a good working relationship, and often had coffee together in the lab. Jóhann, Erlendur, and Halli, Erlendur’s son, had even helped Hrefna and Elsa move into their new apartment.
When Jóhann finished his work in the lobby, he turned his attention to the office.
Diary II
August 20, 1913. Arrived in Berlin this morning. I rented a room in a cheap hotel for one night…
August 21, 1913. Took a tram to Steglitz and paid a visit to a lady who rents out cheap rooms to students. She will accept me if I pay the rent in advance…
August 22, 1913. Sightseeing in the city. Pictures of Kaiser Wilhelm in every shop window. Most of the houses look similar, like boxes with flamboyant decorations in the front. Everything is very clean here, as all the streets are washed during the night. There are policemen on every corner…
September 6, 1913. College begins…
September 9, 1913. Professor Schmidt revises the history of the railways. I have to make a great effort to understand the German language. He details some experiments in building locomotives early last century. He mentions the Englishman George Stephenson in particular as one of the pioneers who built practical steam locomotives during the years prior to 1830. He describes the first German railroad, which was built between Nürnberg and Fürth in 1835…A bit of vocabulary I need to master: Rails = Schiene, Sleepers = Schwelle, Gravel = Schotter…I must practice pronouncing the voiced sch-sound…
October 2, 1913. The landlady has assisted me with a number of small things in the last few weeks, but when I paid the rent this morning she presented me with a bill. Every single little favor is detailed and priced, for instance three schillings for fastening a trouser button, 27 schillings in total.
October 12, 1913. Draftsmanship lessons all day. Drawings of road cross-sections (Ger. Querschnitt), ditch and fill…
October 19, 1913. A college friend, Helmut Klee, invited me to supper in his parents’ home on Akazienallee. They are excellent people. Helmut has a younger brother named Björn. He did not know that his name means bear (Ger. Bär) in Scandinavian languages, and was thrilled when I told him that. I must remember to write to Matthías…
Your older brother, Jacob Senior,” Halldór said, returning to the room where Matthías and Erlendur were waiting, “he was also murdered here in this house, in 1945.”
“Yes, clearly, you recall the tragedy,” Matthías replied.
“No, I don’t actually remember it. It’s come up in our investigations,” Halldór said.
“Well, there was not much talk about it at the time,” Matthías remarked by way of explanation. “People used their influence to prevent the press from making a big thing of it.”
This did not surprise Halldór; he could well believe that friends of the family that had lived in this house at that time would have had enough influence to control the newspapers. Would the same apply today? He doubted it. If nothing else of note happened in the next few days, this case would be news fodder for weeks to come. He dreaded the inevitable battle with reporters.
“Would you be so kind as to describe that incident for me, sir?” Halldór asked.
Matthías thought for a moment. “There is not much to say about it. Mrs. Kieler and the children were at the summerhouse, and the domestics had been given time off. It appeared as if someone had broken into the house and my brother Jacob had woken up and gone downstairs. He probably surprised the intruder and was shot as a result.”