Where the Shadows Lie (Fire and Ice)

hundred metres, the waterfall itself appeared, two powerful torrents of water divided by a basalt rock, tumbling into a pool. A police car with lights flashing was parked down by the bank of the river below the waterfall, and a small group of three or four people were clustered around something.
    Magnus parked next to the police car and introduced himself. The officers were friendly and stood back to let him take a look at the body.
    It was Hákon, all right. Badly battered by his journey down the river and over the waterfall.
    Magnus looked at the pastor of Hruni’s fingers.
    They were bare.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
    M AGNUS DROVE BACK towards Reykjavík. The Thjórsá, which had sparkled the day before, flowed broad and ominously grey down towards the Atlantic Ocean.
    This changed things. This definitely changed things.
    It looked very much as if someone had killed Hákon. It wasn’t Tómas, he was locked up safe and sound. So who was it?
    Steve Jubb and Lawrence Feldman?
    Since he had arrived in Iceland, Magnus had heard about a lot of people who had suffered sudden death over the years. Not just Agnar and now Hákon. But also Dr Ásgrímur. And even Ingileif’s stepfather.
    Too many in such a peaceful country to be a coincidence.
    Another fall. Another drowning.
    Dr Ásgrímur had fallen to his death. That was supposed to be an accident. Agnar had been hit over the head and then drowned. Even Ingileif’s stepfather had fallen into Reykjavík Harbour, hitting his head and drowning.
    That was it. It was that death that had raised doubts at the back of Magnus’s mind earlier when he was talking to the Commissioner.
    It was a classic MO, a modus operandi , a means of killing for which a murderer showed a preference. Even the smartest killers often stuck to the same familiar method.
    There were only two people who were linked to all these deaths. A brother and a sister. Pétur and Ingileif.
    Magnus dismissed Ingileif. But Pétur?
    He had alibis. He was at high school in Reykjavík when his father had died. But perhaps he had been able to get out that weekend without anyone knowing? Perhaps he was the hidden man that the old farmer had seen? He was supposed to have been in London when his stepfather had been killed, but he could easily have flown back to Reykjavík for a couple of days without anyone knowing. If he had heard of what the man had done to his sister, Birna, he might have been moved to take revenge. Especially if he had killed before.
    But what about Agnar’s murder? Pétur had an alibi for that. He was at his clubs all night, Árni had checked it out.
    Magnus slammed his palm on the steering wheel. Árni! That was what he had been trying to say before he lost consciousness after he was shot. Not ‘Goodbye’ but ‘Alibi’. He was trying to tell Magnus about an alibi. Pétur’s alibi.
    Magnus could imagine what had happened. Árni had been round each of Pétur’s three clubs and had received assurances that Pétur had been seen there at some point on the evening of the murder. He hadn’t cross-checked times, drawn up a precise time-line of exactly where Pétur was and when during that night. It was just the kind of sloppy mistake he would make. But, to be fair to him, it was also the kind of thing he would feel guilty about later.
    Pétur had made sure he was seen in the early part of the evening and then driven up to Lake Thingvellir, arriving after nine-thirty when Steve Jubb had left. Perhaps he waited for an hour or so after he had killed Agnar until it was completely dark, before carrying him down to the lake. That would explain the signs of flies on the body in the summer house. Then, of course, he would still have time to get back to his clubs in the early hours of the morning, while they were still hopping.
    Four deaths. And Pétur was responsible for all of them.
    Magnus accelerated towards Reykjavík. He wanted to call Ingileif. Of course she was Pétur’s sister, her first loyalty was to him. But she wouldn’t shield a murderer. Or would she?
    Magnus called her number. ‘Ingileif? It’s me, Magnús.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘Where are you?’
    ‘I’m on the road to Flúdir.’
    The road from Hella to Flúdir passed the turn-off up the Thjórsá valley not far ahead of Magnus.
    ‘I need to talk to you. I’m pretty close. If you pull over and tell me where you are, I’ll find you.’
    ‘I can’t, Magnús, I have an appointment.’
    ‘It’s important.’
    ‘No, I’m sorry,