‘Nothing's going on. Thórdís and I have been discussing Thorbjörn and myself taking over the management of the land here. Now that Brynjólfur’s no longer with us, someone has to look after the place,’ Rósa said, clearly less than delighted to see Alma appear.
‘I’ve told you that I’m not ready,’ Thórdís said absently, and continued leafing through the old album. Rósa pushed the sheet of paper closer.
‘A decision needs to be made. It’s too late to regret things once you’re dead,’ she said.
‘I’m still alive, and so is my sister Klara. It can wait,’ Thórdís said in a blank voice.
The door was abruptly wrenched open and Thorbjörn strode in with a bolt gun in his hands.
‘Sign it, you old bitch. Or do you want this fucking museum? Sign it or you’ll have me to deal with. You’ve strung us along for long enough.’
‘Thorbjörn, you’re blind drunk,’ Thórdís retorted, completely calm. ‘You’re not going to shoot me like you did the livestock?’
‘Fuck you. Sign it. Alma can witness it,’ Thorbjörn said, brandishing the gun.
‘Thorbjörn, stop this. Have you been drinking?’ Alma said.
‘You seem to think you know what I drink, don’t you? Fucking moonshine, isn’t it?’
‘Stop it, man. This is out of order. How can you behave like this? You really think it’ll do any good?’ Rósa demanded.
‘Then just shoot me. That’s maybe for the best. Whatever you do, I’m not signing anything,’ Thórdís said.
‘You’re refusing? Why were you stringing my wife along, telling her she could inherit? Do you think we don’t have any feelings? We’ve lost everything and were destitute. Do you know what that's like? You’ve never lost anything or dared to live. So sign, you old witch.’
Thorbjörn took a step closer to her, holding the gun and with a grim look on his face.
‘For heaven’s sake, stop it, will you? This has gone way too far,’ Rósa said in exasperation.
‘Out of my way, or I’ll shoot you and this nosy hack as well.’
‘What the hell’s going on? You’re not going to shoot all these women?’ Birgir Ragnarsson said, appearing suddenly in the middle of the parlour. ‘Put the gun down, man. Before someone gets hurt.’
Thorbjörn didn’t look at him, but stepped closer to Thórdís, pointing the gun at her. He was clearly very drunk, unable to hold the weapon steady.
Birgir didn’t hesitate. He went smartly over to Thorbjörn and swept the gun from his hands. It went off with a deafening report and the shot hit the memorial shield, shattering it. Birgir took hold of Thorbjörn by the scruff of the neck and bundled him out of the room.
Rósa stooped to pick up the gun. Alma’s heart pounded. Would she fire it? Hardly. Thórdís had signed nothing.
Rósa stood with the gun in her hands when Birgir returned.
‘Give me that, and leave these people in peace,’ he ordered.
Rósa looked up at him in amazement, and handed him the gun.
‘The police ought to take the pair of you away,’ Birgir snapped as he marched out with the gun in his hand.
A Lethal Legacy by Guðrún Guðlaugsdóttir (Corylus Books) Out Now
Nothing has changed at Bjargarlækur for as long as anyone can remember – so are moves to bring change to this remote farm in the Icelandic countryside a motive for murder? Three elderly siblings have lived more or less peacefully in this isolated place their whole lives, until Brynjólfur is found dead in his own bed. Called on to help out at the farm, freelance journalist Alma is far from certain that the old man died a natural death. Determined establish the facts of the matter, she finds herself caught up in a vicious family feud.Sisters Klara and Thórdís are unable to agree on the future of the farm, just as others with an interest in the place circle hungrily around them. Echoes of missed opportunities, lost love and age-old crimes surface as a reckoning takes a bitter toll on those left behind – and Alma struggles to get to the truth.
Guðrún Guðlaugsdóttir can be found on Facebook.
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