Sea of Stone Read Free Page A

farmhouse – a large barn and a number of smaller farm buildings. The gaps between the buildings were cluttered with the usual farming bric-a-brac: machinery, fuel tanks, large circular hay bales wrapped in white plastic, and even a couple of old shipping containers.
    Two red-and-white-coated Icelandic sheep dogs with tightly curled tails appeared, barking. But no people.
    Then Páll remembered the little church, set a couple of hundred metres to the north of the farm towards the sea. He could just make it out through the mist, and he spotted Magnus, standing at the entrance to the churchyard, waving. A woman stood next to him, holding the bridle of a horse.
    Páll considered driving over the field to the church, but common sense prevailed. If it was indeed a homicide, then chewing up the path to the crime scene was not a good option.
    So he parked his car a few metres away from Hallgrímur’s cottage and took a direct route to the church. There was no path over the field, but it would be important later to ensure that everyone approached the crime scene by the same way. Páll recognized the woman Magnus was with as Aníta, the farmer’s wife, and therefore Hallgrímur’s daughter-in-law.
    ‘Hi, Páll, how are you?’ said Magnus. He was a tall, redhaired detective in his mid-thirties with broad shoulders. Last time Páll had seen him he remembered feeling in awe of the tough cop from Boston, with his air of calm competence. But now Magnus’s face was tense.
    ‘What have we got?’ Páll asked.
    ‘Take a look.’
    The church was little more than a black wooden hut, with its own red metal roof and a small white cross at the peak of the gable above the entrance. The door was open, and Páll looked inside. There were only half a dozen rows of pews. An ancient oil painting hung behind the altar, which was fenced in by an ornate white wooden rail.
    In front of the altar lay the body of an old man. Páll recognized him. Hallgrímur.
    A pool of blood spread across the wooden floor around the old man’s head, reddening his wispy white hair, and licking his wrinkled face. His blue eyes were open.
    ‘I’m sorry, Magnús.’
    Magnus shrugged. ‘I didn’t know him that well. But I’ve got to admit it was a shock to find him here.’
    ‘How long has he been dead?’ Páll asked.
    ‘Not for too long. He’s still warm and rigor hasn’t set in.’
    ‘There’s no chance he just fell, is there?’ There were at least three or four cuts in the old man’s scalp, and a dent high on his forehead.
    Magnus shook his head. ‘When I first saw him on the floor, that’s what I assumed. But once I’d taken a closer look…’
    Páll took a deep breath. ‘When did you find him?’
    ‘About twenty minutes ago.’
    ‘Did you see who did it?’
    ‘No. I didn’t seen anyone until Aníta arrived about ten minutes ago.’
    Páll stood still at the entrance and scanned the church. No sign of an obvious murder weapon. There was a footprint in the blood next to Hallgrímur’s head, and a couple of red marks leading back to the entrance.
    ‘Was that you?’ He glanced down to Magnus’s shoes.
    ‘Yes. Sorry,’ Magnus said. ‘This is my grandfather. I was thinking more like a grandson than a detective. When I saw him lying there, I just went straight to him.’
    ‘Of course,’ said Páll. He surveyed the church. ‘We should secure the scene.’
    ‘Right,’ said Magnus. ‘If you get the tape, I’ll help you. I figure I’m more witness than investigating officer here.’
    They left the church and Páll approached Aníta, still waiting patiently at the entrance to the churchyard. She was a tall woman in her late forties, with high, finely lined cheekbones, and long plaited blonde hair. Although Páll knew who she was, they had only spoken a couple of times in the past.
    ‘Did you see anything?’ he asked her. ‘Anyone leaving the church?’
    ‘No. The only person I saw was Magnús up at the cottage, and he took me down here