House of Evidence(27)
Diary III
January 12, 1914. Professor Schmidt talks about the variety of railroad gauges that have been employed. He firmly recommends the use of standard gauge, which is 4 feet 8½ inches, i.e. 1.435 meters. I asked him if it would not make sense to use a narrower gauge in Iceland in order to save on infrastructure. He said that would be reasonable, since Iceland would not be connecting directly with other railroad systems. Once a decision on gauge had been made, however, Icelanders would have to apply it throughout the country…
January 15, 1914. Today Herr Lautmann, an agent from the Association of Railroad Companies in the United States, paid a visit to the college. He is German by birth but has lived in North America for 20 years. He urged us to seek employment in the United States after graduation; he says they offer great prospects and generous salaries. He received mixed reactions from my college friends, but I wrote down his name and address in Chicago…
January 24, 1914. Calculating curves between two straight sections. The radius of curvature may not be sharper than 300 meters. The professor shows me how to make use of books of tables…
May 2, 1914. My father sends me Ísafold magazine, with articles arguing about the cost of building a railroad in Iceland. There is much disagreement: those in favor put a figure of 27,000 krónur per kilometer for standard gauge track, while opponents say 49,000 krónur. Both sides quote experience from abroad, but I feel that it is impossible to price accurately the construction of a railroad until it has been designed and surveyed. On can invite bids for materials from many countries, and who can say in advance what that would bring. With careful planning and preparation it should be possible to build an inexpensive, fully budgeted railroad…
June 10, 1914. I shall not take a vacation this summer; instead I plan to devote myself to college studies in order to shorten the duration of my course. If all goes well, I shall have finished by next spring, and then I can turn to real projects. I am writing to Elizabeth to tell her that I shall not be able to pay her a visit this summer. I don’t feel I can suggest that she comes here to Berlin, which would of course be my dearest wish…
June 28, 1914. News arrived from Sarajevo in Bosnia that Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife had been fatally shot as they drove through the city. People here in Berlin are dismayed: Franz Ferdinand was heir-presumptive to the Emperor of Austria and considered a good friend of Kaiser Wilhelm…
Egill set himself up in one of the police cars, while officers in thick overcoats and fur hats fine-combed the snow with garden rakes, bringing him any objects they found. These he examined carefully, recorded, and wrapped in individual plastic bags.
Found in the garden of Birkihlíd, January 18,
1973, recorded by E.G.
One child’s mitten, frozen, red
An empty spirits bottle (Tindavodka)
Empty milk carton
Dead mouse (half-eaten, probably by a cat)
Burned-out firecracker
Other items he put in one bag and labeled them “Junk.” When his men had completed the search of the Birkihlíd grounds, he had them check the neighboring gardens, but nothing remarkable was found, apart from some rusty tree clippers, which he examined with particular care. After that the men searched all the neighborhood trash cans in case the weapon had been dumped in one of them; by now dusk was falling and the men had to use flashlights.
It remained for Egill to talk to the neighbors. He took along one of the older policemen whom he knew well from his own uniform days; he liked to demonstrate his authority when he spoke to people, and a small identity card was not as effective as a uniform.
The house just to the south of Birkihlíd had been built for a single family, but now contained three apartments. Its white exterior paint was flaking.
Egill knocked on the door of the basement apartment first. A young woman with a small child on her arm opened the door, but didn’t invite them in, so they had to ask their questions from the steps outside.
No, she hadn’t been aware of anything unusual until all the policemen appeared that morning. No, she had not heard a gunshot during the night.
On the floor above, an old, bent-backed woman with a cane invited them into the parlor, where an old man sat in a deep armchair, a blanket over his knees and knitted mittens on his hands. He was listening to Children’s Hour on the radio. The light was off so it was rather dark.
The old woman offered the visitors a seat on the couch, but she remained standing beside them, rocking to and fro.
“We are investigating a death in the house next door. Are you familiar with the people who live there?” Egill asked, raising his voice in order to be heard over the radio.