April 3, 1935. Had a letter from Berlin with many beautiful railroad stamps. Björn Klee has done a good job for me exchanging the Icelandic stamps I sent him last winter for stamps from various countries with pictures of steam engines…
June 7, 1935. I have had one reply to my advertisement in the engineer’s magazine for an assistant engineer. A young man, recently graduated from Copenhagen, Thórdur Thórdarson, his family from the Gnúpverjahreppur district…
June 8, 1935. I have now realized that there will be no viable basis for operating the railroad if it only goes as far as the Thjórsá River. There are, on the other hand, enormous opportunities if we take the railroad onward, north to Akureyri. Then there would be a large junction station at Ölfusá River, below Mt. Ingólfsfjall. From there the track would go via Biskupstungur on to Kjalvegur and along the existing road route north to Akureyri. The new snowplow makes this very feasible. I assume that a densely populated area will form round the junction station…
June 21, 1935. Now that there are three of us working in the engineering studio, I need to think about accommodation. The office is not large enough for all of us. Having to approach it through the parlor is also a disadvantage. Thórdur suggested I should have an extension built on the north side of the house…
August 5, 1935. Kristján is back in town after his trip north. He says there is an excellent route for the railroad from the Kjalvegur Road along Blöndudalur Valley to the populated areas in the north. There would then be a junction station near the mouth of the valley, and perhaps a branch line going to Blönduós. The main line would continue through the Vatnsskard pass over to Skagafjördur…
September 25, 1935. We moved the drafting table and the cabinet into the extension this morning. Everything fits in very well there. The studio is very light, and will probably be an excellent place to work. I gave a small reception to mark the occasion this afternoon…
October 12, 1935. Young Jacob is ten years old today. He is an obedient and polite little boy…
December 1, 1935. My mother was suddenly taken ill during the night with severe internal pains and vomiting. This continued well into the day, before subsiding so that she was able to sleep. It is Sunday and difficult to get hold of a doctor. Sveinborg is sitting with her…
December 2, 1935. The doctor gave my mother laudanum to alleviate the pain…
December 9, 1935. My mother died this evening. She was conscious for a while this morning and asked about Matthías. He has not been mentioned in the house since he went abroad. I saw that it made her happy when I told her that he was well and that I had met him last year…
Hrefna slept longer than she had intended, but was nevertheless lucky: when she got to the students’ residence, Elísabet was still asleep in her room.
“There are some things that have emerged in the investigation of your uncle’s murder that we need to find a credible explanation for. I think you may be able to help me,” Hrefna explained once inside Elísabet’s room.
“What do you mean?” Elísabet asked, lighting a cigarette.
“I have been tipped off that you have more than a casual relationship with Sigurdur Sigurdsson, the son of Sigurdur Jónsson.”
Elísabet looked defiantly at Hrefna. “Yeah, Diddi and I are good friends.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when we spoke before?”
“It would probably have shocked Mom. She doesn’t even know I’m going out with a guy, let alone this guy. But I can’t see that it has anything to do with your investigation.”
“We have firm proof that Sigurdur was in Birkihlíd on the evening Jacob was murdered.”
“What proof?”
“I’m not discussing that with you.”
Elísabet inhaled the smoke deeply and then blew it out forcefully. “If I tell you that the reason for his being there was completely normal and had nothing to do with the murder, would that be enough?”
“No,” Hrefna replied, shaking her head.
Elísabet was quiet for a few moments.
“Okay. I’ll try and explain this a bit better. When I was younger and my mom and I came for a visit to Birkihlíd, I sometimes used to read Grandpa Jacob’s diaries. He died a long time before I was born, of course, but I felt I got to know him through those books. It always seemed so sad to me how he dedicated his life to that railroad, but never saw his dreams come true. He was so talented that he should have been able to make his mark in any field in the community, but instead he ends up in this blind alley. Do you know what I mean?”