The Shadow District by Indriðason Arnaldur

Author:Indriðason, Arnaldur [Indriðason, Arnaldur]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Crime, thriller, Historical
Amazon: B06ZZLY4F9
Goodreads: 35011768
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Published: 2013-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

28

Since Geirlaug wasn’t that common a name, Konrád decided his best bet was to ring all the Geirlaugs listed in the online telephone directory and ask whether by any chance they had a connection to an old dressmaker’s in Reykjavík, had heard of a man called Thorson and, if so, had met him shortly before he died. He couldn’t find any Geirlaug listed with ‘seamstress’ as an occupation, and assumed that the term had gone out of use long ago anyway. If the woman he was looking for turned out to be ex-directory, he would simply have to track her down by other, more circuitous means.

He started systematically working through the list of Geirlaugs at lunchtime the next day. Unusually, he had overslept. He had gone to bed late, been unable to get to sleep in spite of all the wine, and lain awake for hours, brooding over the fate of the elderly Thorson. He thought about Thorson’s lover and how, ever since losing him, the engineer appeared to have lived alone, withdrawn from the world. From there his mind turned to Thorson’s relationship with Birgitta, and he asked himself whether there was any chance, despite her categorical denial, that she could have helped him on his way as an act of mercy.

Having woken in the grip of a hangover, he drank several cups of coffee, gulping down water in between, but found he had little appetite. He sat staring into space until finally he summoned up the energy to start phoning Geirlaugs. There were landlines and mobiles listed for most of them, so if they didn’t answer at home, he tried their mobiles. He posed as an acquaintance of Stefán’s – avoiding any mention of ‘Thorson’ – and explained that he needed to get in touch with a woman called Geirlaug who had been in contact with him recently. Most of the women answered his call. One, who hadn’t been able to take it at the time, rang him back and asked if he had been trying to reach her. None of them knew Stefán Thórdarson, though two had a vague recollection of hearing the name in the news. The conversations were brief and the women generally showed little interest in who Konrád was. ‘You must have got the wrong number,’ was the most common response. Only one or two of the older-sounding women were curious to know more about him, but he didn’t waste time explaining. When they turned out not to know Stefán, he quickly brought the call to a close.

The task took him most of the afternoon. In between calls he listened to the radio or flipped through the papers, or wasted time surfing the Internet. Late in the afternoon his phone rang.

‘Yes, hello,’ he answered.

‘Was someone from this number trying to get hold of me?’ asked an elderly sounding female voice.

‘It’s possible,’ said Konrád. ‘Is your name Geirlaug?’

‘Yes, who is this, please?’

‘My name’s Konrád. Sorry to bother you like this but I knew Stefán Thórdarson. He died recently.

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