Authors: Arnaldur Indridason
Hypothermia (25 page)
‘Ghosts who have business with the bank?’
‘I have a name,’ Erlendur said. ‘I have an ID number. I know he banks here. This was also his late wife’s bank.’
‘Is she the ghost?’
Erlendur nodded.
‘And you need to look this man up?’
Erlendur nodded again.
‘Why don’t you take the usual route? Do you have a warrant?’
Erlendur shook his head.
‘Is he a criminal?’
‘No. Possibly.’
‘Possibly? Is he someone you’re investigating?’
Erlendur nodded.
‘What’s going on? What are you looking for?’
‘I can’t tell you, I’m afraid.’
‘Who is it?’
Erlendur shook his head.
‘Aren’t I allowed to know?’
‘No. Look, I know this is highly irregular, and no doubt incomprehensible to an honest man like you, but I want to look at this man’s account and I can’t do it through the system, unfortunately. I would if I could but I can’t.’
The bank manager stared at him.
‘You’re asking me to break the law.’
‘Yes and no,’ Erlendur said.
‘So this is not an official investigation?’
Erlendur shook his head.
‘Erlendur,’ the bank manager said, ‘are you out of your mind?’
‘This case, which I can’t discuss with you, is turning into a complete nightmare. I know next to nothing about what has happened but the information I’m asking you for could conceivably help me get a better handle on it.’
‘Why isn’t this a normal inquiry?’
‘Because I’m undertaking a private investigation,’ Erlendur said. ‘No one knows what I’m up to or what I’ve uncovered. I’m completely alone on this. What happens here with you will go no further. I don’t have enough evidence yet to turn it into an official inquiry. The people I’m investigating are not aware of the fact – or at least I hope they aren’t. I don’t know exactly what information I need but I’m hoping to find out something here at the bank. You’ll have to trust me.’
‘Why are you doing this? Aren’t you putting your career on the line?’
‘It’s one of those cases where you have nothing tangible, just a whole heap of suspicions. All I’ve got to go on is fragments. I need simple connections, some kind of background to the events that later took place. I need to fill in the gaps in these people’s story, including their financial history. I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think . . . if I didn’t think a crime had been committed. A sordid crime that no one knows about and that . . . the person in question . . . seems likely to get away with.’
The bank manager stared at Erlendur for a long time in meaningful silence.
‘Can you call up the bank’s customers on that computer?’ Erlendur asked at last, nodding towards three flat screens on the bank manager’s large desk.
‘Yes.’
‘Are you going to help me?’
‘Erlendur, I . . . I’m afraid I can’t get involved in this. I can’t do it.’
Their eyes met for a long moment.
‘Can you tell me if the person in question is badly in debt? A simple yes or no?’ Erlendur asked.
The bank manager thought for a moment.
‘I can’t do it, Erlendur. Please don’t ask me.’
‘What about his wife? She’s dead. A query about her account shouldn’t hurt anyone.’
‘Erlendur . . .’
‘All right. I understand.’
The bank manager was on his feet. He tapped a finger on the desk.
‘Do you have her ID number?’
‘Yes.’
The manager typed in the number, pressed several keys on the keyboard, clicked with the mouse and stared at the screen.
‘She was rolling in it,’ he said.
The old man lay in his hospital bed, apparently asleep. The corridor was quiet after the evening meal. The two men who shared his ward lay in their beds too, taking no notice of Erlendur. One was reading a book, the other was dozing.
Erlendur sat down by the bed and looked at his watch. He had been on his way home when he’d decided to call in. At that moment the old man woke up and saw him.
‘I went to see your son Elmar,’ Erlendur said.
He came straight to the point, unsure how much time he had.
‘Oh?’
The man who had been reading put down his book on the bedside table and turned to face the wall. Erlendur had the feeling that he could hear every word they said. The man dozing in the bed between them now began to snore quietly. Erlendur knew these were not ideal circumstances under which to conduct a police inquiry but there was little that he could do about it, and anyway his visits to the old man hardly deserved to be called an investigation.
‘Their relationship was always okay, wasn’t it?’ Erlendur asked, attempting to sound as if he wasn’t trying to sow unnecessary seeds of suspicion. He thought perhaps he had asked this before.
‘The boys were very different, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Not very close, perhaps?’ Erlendur suggested.
The old man shook his head.
‘No, they weren’t close. Elmar never comes here. Never visits me. Says he can’t stand nursing homes, hospitals, old people’s homes or whatever you like to call them. He’s a taxi driver. Did you know that?’
‘Yes,’ Erlendur said.
‘Divorced, like so many of them nowadays,’ the old man said. ‘Always been a bit of a misfit.’
‘Yes, well, some people are like that,’ Erlendur replied, for the sake of saying something.
‘Did you find that girl you were asking about?’
‘No. Your son Elmar said Davíd had never been involved with any girls.’
‘He’s right.’
The snores from the middle bed grew louder.
‘Perhaps you should give up the search,’ the old man said.
‘It’s hardly a search,’ Erlendur said. ‘Anyway, there’s not much to do down at the station at the moment, so don’t you worry about me.’
‘Do you really think you’ll ever find him?’
‘I have no idea,’ Erlendur said. ‘People go missing. Sometimes they’re found, sometimes not.’
‘It’s too long ago. We stopped picturing him alive a long time ago. It was actually something of a relief, despite the fact that we were never able to mourn him properly.’
‘No, of course,’ Erlendur said.
‘And soon I’ll be gone myself,’ the old man said.
‘Does the thought worry you?’
‘No. I’m not afraid.’
‘Do you worry about what will come next?’ Erlendur asked.
‘Not at all. I expect to meet my Davíd again. And Gunnthórunn. That’ll be good.’
‘You believe that?’
‘I’ve always believed it.’
‘In life after death?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
‘I’d like to have known what became of the boy,’ the old man said. ‘Strange how these things happen. He told his mother he was going to the bookshop and then to his friend’s house, and that was the end of his short life.’
‘No one recognised him in any of the bookshops. Not here in Reykjavík, or in any of the neighbouring towns. The police checked up on that specifically at the time. Nor had he arranged to meet any of his friends.’
‘Perhaps his mother misunderstood him. The whole thing was incomprehensible. Utterly incomprehensible.’
The man who had been reading was now asleep.
‘What did he want from the bookshop? Can you remember?’
‘He mentioned it to Gunnthórunn. He was going to buy a book about lakes.’
‘A book about lakes?’
‘Yes, some lake book.’
‘What kind of lakes? What did he mean by that?’
‘It was a new book, his mother said. A book of photographs of the lakes around Reykjavík.’
‘Was he interested in that sort of thing? In the Icelandic countryside?’
‘Not that I was ever aware. I seem to remember that his mother thought he was planning to give it to someone. But she wasn’t sure. She thought it might have been a misunderstanding on her part because he had never mentioned anything like that before.’
‘Did you know who it was? Who the book was intended for?’
‘No.’
‘And his friends knew nothing about it?’
‘No, no one.’
‘Could it have for been the girl that Gilbert mentioned? The one he thought your son had met?’
‘There was no girl,’ the old man said. ‘Davíd would have told us. And anyway, she would have come forward when he went missing. Anything else would be unthinkable. That’s why there can’t have been any girl. It’s out of the question.’
The old man waved his hand dismissively.
‘Out of the question,’ he repeated.
26
Erlendur drove into the cul-de-sac in Grafarvogur as evening fell the following day and parked in front of the doctor’s house. They had an appointment. Erlendur had called after lunch, saying that he needed to see him. Baldvin wanted to know why and Erlendur said he had received information from a third party that he would like to discuss with him. The doctor seemed surprised and wanted to know who the third party was and whether he, Baldvin was under some sort of police scrutiny. Erlendur placated him as he had before, saying it would take no time to deal with his questions. He was on the point of adding that it was nothing serious but knew this would be a lie.
He remained sitting in the car for some time after turning off the engine. The impending meeting with Baldvin was not a prospect he relished. He was on his own with this case. Neither Elínborg nor Sigurdur Óli knew exactly what he was up to, nor did his superiors at the CID. Erlendur had no idea how long he could persevere in this inquiry without its becoming official. The future of the investigation would probably depend on Baldvin’s reaction to his questions.
Baldvin greeted Erlendur at the door and invited him into the living room. The doctor was alone in the house. Erlendur had expected nothing else. They sat down. The atmosphere was more strained than during their previous meetings. Baldvin was civil but very formal. He had not asked if he would need a lawyer when they spoke on the phone. Erlendur was relieved. He would not have known how to answer. In the circumstances, he reckoned that it would be best to talk to Baldvin privately.
‘As I told you on the phone—’ Erlendur began, launching into the preamble that he had rehearsed in the car. Baldvin stopped him.
‘Can’t you just get to the point?’ he said. ‘I’m hoping this meeting won’t take long. What is it that you want to know?’
‘I was going to tell you that there are three things but . . .’
‘What do you want to know?’ the doctor asked again.
‘Magnús, your father-in-law—’
‘I never met him,’ Baldvin replied, cutting Erlendur off once more.
‘No, I’m aware of that. What did he do?’
‘What did he do?’
‘How did he make a living, I mean?’
‘I have the feeling that you already know.’
‘It would be simplest if you just answered the question,’ Erlendur said sternly.
‘He was an estate agent.’
‘Was he successful?’
‘No, extremely
un
successful. He was facing bankruptcy when he died, from what María told me. Leonóra mentioned the fact too.’
un
successful. He was facing bankruptcy when he died, from what María told me. Leonóra mentioned the fact too.’
‘But he didn’t go bankrupt?’
‘No.’
‘And they were his beneficiaries? Leonóra and María?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did they inherit?’
‘It didn’t amount to much at the time,’ Baldvin said. ‘They managed to hold on to this house because Leonóra was shrewd and tough.’
‘Anything else?’
‘A plot of land in Kópavogur. Magnús had accepted it in some settlement, as a down payment or something, and ended up owning it. That was two years before he died.’
‘And Leonóra held on to it over the years? Even when she needed to save the house?’
‘Where are you going with this?’
‘Since then Kópavogur has grown faster than any other community in Iceland and more people have moved here than anywhere else in the country, including Reykjavík. When Magnús acquired the land it was so far out of town that people could hardly be bothered to drive there. Now it’s almost in the centre. Whoever would have believed it?’
‘Yes, it is incredible.’
‘I checked the price at the time Leonóra sold it – what, three or four years ago now? She got a very decent sum for it. According to the calculations of Kópavogur Council it was around three hundred million krónur. Leonóra was good with money, wasn’t she? She didn’t boast about the fact, probably wasn’t particularly interested in money as a rule. So the bulk of it sat in her bank account, accumulating interest. María was her mother’s heir. You were María’s heir. No one else. Just you.’
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