The Body in the Fjord

tables.

“Of course I am teasing you,” Jan told Helene. “My mother has her great-grandmother’s engagement spoons, and if there was a fire, she’d grab those, then think of us!” It seemed impossible for the young man not to make a joke out of most remarks.

“Engagement spoons are two spoons connected by a long chain all elaborately carved out of one piece of wood,” Helene explained.

“I like the symbolism.” Ursula was busy helping herself to the fish. Pix could see it was perfectly poached, moist flakes falling to one side. There was hollandaise sauce, but Pix knew she wanted hers plain.

“We will leave you to enjoy your dinner,” Carl said. “We have a few announcements we’ll make during dessert.”

Pix tried in vain during the rest of the meal to turn the conversation to Kari and Erik’s quarrel on the train, but short of rudeness, it proved impossible to get Helene off her favorite subject. They heard a great deal about tiner, the butter and pudding boxes used to bring gifts of food to relatives or friends at weddings or other occasions, and much more about jewelry, especially bunadssolv, wedding jewelry.

“I wonder if modern Norwegians are as superstitious as their ancestors,” Ursula mused after a treatise from

Helene about the use of silver to keep the trolls, those direct descendants of the Viking pagan gods, from harming mortals.

“There is certainly a renewed interest in the old jewelry and its use and legends. Saga makes wonderful reproductions, with an explanation accompanying each piece. As for warding off evil, I’m not sure. I know I said Norwegians are exuberant, but they also seem remarkably down-to-earth and even-tempered.”

It was now or never.

Pix put down her fork. Her plate was clean; so was the fish platter. “Yet not without passion. I understand the tour had some sort of tragic incident before we joined you, a double suicide by two lovers.” She stifled the urge to give Ursula an apologetic glance. “They ran away together, then apparently took their own lives.”

Helene stiffened and the color drained from her face. Arnie looked annoyed.

“Well,” he said.

“No, we can’t not talk about it, Arnie. Apparently rumors abound.” She pushed a stray strand of gray hair behind her ear to join the others loosely gathered in an ornate barrette at the nape of her neck. Then she waited while their plates were cleared and the table was swept clean of the crumbs their crusty dinner rolls had produced.

“Kari and Erik were working as stewards for the tour, handling the luggage, helping people find their rooms, that sort of thing. What Anders and Sonja are doing now. First we heard that they had eloped, and while it was a bit inconvenient, these things happen and we could only wish them well, but then the police arrived at the hotel to question all of us. Erik’s body was found in the river by Flam. Kari is still missing.”

“How sad,” Ursula said, “and how difficult for all of you, being questioned, I mean.”

Thank you, Mother.

“Well, yes—yes, it was. It turned out I was the last person from the tour to have seen them and the police

talked to me three times. It was a bit nerve-racking, especially as I didn’t have much to tell them.”

“They must have thought you did.” Pix was eager to keep the woman talking. She’d been unstoppable on antiques but was understandably reticent now.

“I was looking for something to eat and thought I’d see if one of those carts was in another car. I came up behind them and was all set to greet them when I realized they were arguing.”

“A lovers’ spat?” Ursula was holding her own.

“I don’t speak Norwegian, so I have no idea what they were quarreling about, but Kari’s face, was very red and she had tears in her eyes. She was doing most of the talking. Erik was sitting there. He didn’t look angry, just…Well, I think what I told the police was that he looked determined. Like someone who has made up his mind. And Kari seemed to be trying to get him to change it.”

“Do you think he was contemplating suicide?” Pix asked. She could see Kari so clearly. The girl did have a temper, and when she lost it, the words flowed like lava.

“I couldn’t say for sure, but I think if he had been, Kari would have looked more sad, more desperate than angry. She was shaking her finger at him, and somehow if he had been planning to kill himself, she would have perhaps had her arms around him. The whole thing looked…looked like she was scolding him.”

Pix had been right. The woman had taken note of the body language.

“It was very awkward. I didn’t want to intrude and go past them, yet I really was terribly hungry. Sometimes my blood sugar gets very low, and usually I carry some granola bars, but I’d used them up and needed something to eat.”

So, Helene Feld had stood in the aisle for some time, Pix thought. Long enough to form a lasting impression.

“Then what happened? Did they make up?”

“The food cart came through the door. Kari got up to help the woman, saw me, and was immediately concerned that I find something to eat. She warned me that the

lefse

—you know, that flatbread that has potatoes in it—would taste like cardboard and recommended the yogurt with muesli. She was a very sweet girl. The whole thing is such a mystery.”

The “fruits of the woods” arrived: blackberries, tiny strawberries, and a few precious multer—cloudberries—a delicacy that grew only above the timberline. Helene sighed. “I hope we find out what happened before we go home. I hate it when things are left up in the air.”

Pix felt exactly the same way.

Jan was clanking the side of his empty glass. Drinks were extra, even bottled water, milk, and soft drinks. Pix and Ursula had stuck to whatever was coming out of the tap at Stalheim after being reminded by the Felds. She’d have to wire home for more money or find an ATM somewhere in these mountains if she didn’t watch her kroner carefully, Pix realized.

“Tomorrow we will board our Viking fjord cruiser and spend the day on the water, with one short stop to see a stave church, after which, we will arrive at the famous Kvikne’s Hotel in Balestrand. Then the following day, a stop in the afternoon to visit a farmer and taste his gjetost, delicious Norwegian goat cheese.”

There were a few groans. Pix was tempted to add hers. She’d tasted the cheese, caramel-colored and sweet, sticking like peanut butter to the roof of one’s mouth, but with far greater tenacity. Marit used it in everything, even gravy. She’d given Ursula a recipe for pheasant in gjetost cream sauce that Pix, as a joke, had passed on to Faith, who still refused to believe it was real.

Ursula tapped her daughter on the shoulder. “Look at Mr. Arnulfson and his friends.”

The bachelor farmers were beaming. It was definite. A farm. Well, well, well, they’d have to have a look at this. Maybe set the man straight on a few things. Pix found herself giggling. She knew that in Norwegian spinsters

were called “old girls.” She wondered what the term was for unmarried men. These were certainly “old boys.”

“We will be spending the next two nights at Kvikne’s Hotel, as you know from your itinerary. Now the bad news. We have a wake-up call ordered for six A.M.”

Groans again.

“So, if you’ll please have your luggage outside your doors by seven, we’ll have breakfast and be on our way.”

Pix had been forgetting she was on a tour. It all had been so pleasant and relaxed, except for the reason she was there. Still, six in the morning was nothing for the Rowe family. Ursula would no doubt be ready well before then.

“When you have finished your dinner, we will take coffee in the lobby and watch a program of Norwegian folk dancing. They are very good and I think you will like it. Any questions?”