Free House of Evidence by Viktor Arnar Ingólfsson Page B

way, they would be able to identify exactly where in the parlor they had found a particular piece of evidence—a hair, for example, or some cloth fibers.
    Meanwhile Jóhann examined the trail of blood. It seemed to indicate that the man had dragged himself across the floor, but Jóhann wondered if there were any other imprints in the blood. There didn’t appear to be, but nevertheless he took photos of the whole trail. The spot where the man had been shot was, of course, of particular interest; there was a lot of blood in a small area here, but also droplets dispersed over a wider area, and it was these droplets that caught Jóhann’s attention. He placed a numbered label next to every drop and took a photograph of the whole area, and then set the camera above each drop to take an accurate close-up that included the numbered label and a millimeter-scale ruler. He could use this to help determine the angle and range of the shot.
    He then examined the fruits of Marteinn’s work; the filters were remarkably clear. There had hardly been any dust on the floors and furniture—the parlor had obviously been recently cleaned, though there was a bit of soot on the floor next to the fireplace.
    Finally Jóhann turned his attention to fingerprints. He pulled on a pair of white cotton gloves and surveyed the room for drinking glasses or similar objects that somebody was likely to have touched, but there was nothing of that kind here. The dining chair looked like the only thing that had been recently moved, so Jóhann photographed it where it lay, then moved it carefully onto a white cloth that he spread out on the floor.
    Jóhann chose a gray powder from his bag that would not cling to the varnish on the chair. Fingerprint powder works by sticking to traces of grease left behind when a finger touches an object; the grease carries the same pattern as the finger itself, and the powder therefore displays an accurate copy of it. The trick was to use the right powder for the circumstances. It must not cling to the surface bearing the fingerprint, and it must be the correct color: black powder was used on light surfaces, gray powder on dark ones. Different methods were applied depending on whether the fingerprints were old or recent.
    This powder was designed to show up on only recent prints, those containing grease and moisture, and not old prints, which consist mainly of salts. Jóhann applied the powder to the chair with a soft brush. He then carefully blew the dust off the surface, revealing prints left there by hands that had held the chair and probably moved it; there was also a single handprint on top of the chair back. Jóhann photographed all these prints with a special lens, before transferring each print to a card by carefully placing adhesive tape over the print, peeling it off again, and sticking it to the card to produce a clear reproduction of the original fingerprint.
    Jóhann had a good impression of a right-hand thumbprint from the chair that he now compared with the samples he’d taken from the deceased. It was the same fingerprint; there was no doubt about it. The victim had carried the chair to the place where it had lain—a conclusion that would no doubt cause some disappointment, but that was not Jóhann’s concern. He was just pleased to have an answer. His task was simply to establish facts; other people had to interpret them to find the perpetrator.
    As he was brushing some gray powder onto the telephone receiver in the lobby, it rang. Jóhann was so startled that he nearly dropped the vial of fingerprint powder. He blew the powderoff and picked up the receiver, holding it by the bottom of the mouthpiece.
    “Hello?”
    “Jóhann, this is Hrefna. Sveinborg, the housekeeper, just told me that this isn’t the first time murder has been committed in Birkihlíd. The father of the deceased was fatally shot in that parlor in 1945. Let me talk to Halldór.”
    Jóhann fetched Halldór from upstairs, reminding him to