Niran had been at odds with his stepfather from the outset and had trouble adapting to Icelandic society. He was nine years old when he arrived in the country accompanied by Sunee’s younger brother Virote. Virote had stayed, found a job in a fish factory and dreamed of opening a Thai restaurant.
“Niran never regarded Odinn as his father, understandably,” Sigridur said. “They had nothing in common.”
“Who is Niran’s father?” Erlendur interjected.
Sigridur shrugged. “I’ve never asked,” she said.
“It must be tough for a boy like him to come to this country at that age and under those circumstances.”
“Naturally it was very difficult,” Sigridur said. “And still is. He’s not doing well at school and he’s something of an outsider in the community.”
“There are more like him,” Erlendur said. “They take refuge in each other, they have a common background. There have been clashes between them and the Icelandic kids, but not many and not serious either. Though maybe we’re seeing more weapons than before. Knuckledusters. Knives.”
“Niran isn’t a bad lad,” Sigridur said, “but I know Sunee’s worried about him. He always treated his brother kindly. Their relationship was rather special. They got on well together, I think, considering the circumstances. Sunee made sure of that”
Gudny came in from the kitchen.
“Sunee wants to go out and look for Niran,” she said. “I’m going with her.”
“Of course,” Erlendur said. “But I think it would be better to wait here for a while in case he turns up.”
“I’ll stay here in case he comes back,” Sigridur said.
“Sunee can’t just sit here and wait,” the interpreter said. “She has to get out. She has to do something.”
“I can perfectly understand that,” Erlendur said.
Sunee was in the hallway, putting on her anorak. The door to the boys” room was open and she looked inside. She went to the door and started speaking. The interpreter and Erlendur moved closer.
“He dreamed something,” the interpreter said. “When Elias woke up this morning he told her about a dream he had last night. A little bird came to him and Elias made a bird-house for it and they became friends, Elias and the bird.”
Sunee stood at the door to the boys” room and talked to the interpreter.
“He was a bit annoyed with his mother,” the interpreter said.
Sunee looked at Erlendur and continued with her account.
“He felt happy in the dream: he’d made a friend,” the interpreter said. “He was annoyed because she woke him up. Elias would have liked to stay in the dream for longer.”
Sunee recalled Elias on that last morning. He was lying in bed, trying to hold on to the dream about the bird; snuggled up under his too-small duvet in his too-small pyjamas. His skinny legs protruded a long way out of the bottoms. He was lying on his side, staring at the wall in the dark. She had turned on the light in the room but he reached over for the switch and turned it off again. His brother was already up. Sunee was late for work and could not find her purse. She called to Elias to get out of bed. She knew that he liked lying under the warm duvet, especially on cold, dark mornings with a long day ahead at school.
“We need to talk to his friends,” Erlendur said when the interpreter had finished translating her words.
Sunee looked back into the boys” room.
“Does he have many friends?” Erlendur asked, and the interpreter repeated his words in Thai.
“I don’t think he had many friends in this new part of town,” Sunee said.
“That’s what he was dreaming about,” Erlendur said.
“He dreamed of making a good friend,” Sunee said through the interpreter. “I woke him up and he lay in bed for a long time before he came through to the kitchen. I was running out when he finally appeared. I’d called to him to hurry up. Niran had had breakfast and was waiting for him. They generally went to school together. Then Niran couldn’t be bothered to wait any more and I had to leave.”
Sunee steeled herself.
“ “I couldn’t even say goodbye to him properly.” That was the last thing I heard him say.”
“What?” Erlendur asked, staring at the interpreter.
Sunee said something. She spoke in such a low voice that the interpreter had to bend to hear. When she straightened up again she told Erlendur in Icelandic the last words that Elias had spoken to his mother before she hurried off to work.
“I wish I hadn’t woken up.”
6
Elias’s father had finally been located. He had asked to see his son’s body at the morgue on Baronsstigur and was now sitting waiting in Erlendur’s office at the police station on Hverfisgata. Erlendur left Sunee, her brother and the interpreter outside the block of flats where she lived. Two police officers intended to accompany them on their search for Niran. Sigridur stayed at the flat. Erlendur felt he had obtained all the information that Elias’s mother could provide at this time. It was obvious that she had no idea why her son had been attacked or why Niran had not come home. She could not imagine where he was. Since they had only recently moved to the district, she did not know his friends very well and had only a vague idea of where they lived. Erlendur could well understand how she could not stay quietly at home, waiting for news. The entire police force was looking for Niran. His photograph had been distributed to all the stations. He could be in danger. He could also be in hiding. What mattered most was to find him as quickly as possible.
Elinborg contacted Erlendur to say that she had spoken to the staff at the chemist’s shop where the witness had seen Niran and his friends hanging around. The staff did not remember any of the boys actually going inside the shop. Nor had they noticed any particular group of teenagers behind the building that day and so were surprised when Elinborg began asking detailed questions about them; schoolchildren were always loitering there. Graffiti was scrawled over the walls and cigarette butts had been stubbed out on the pavement in the little back yard. Elinborg said she would continue talking to Elias’s classmates.
“Sunee’s neighbour, Fanney her name is, mentioned that Sunee might have been receiving visits from someone.”
“What kind of visits?”
“It was all very vague. She thought someone was calling on her — you know, a man.”
“A boyfriend?”
“Possibly. She didn’t know. She didn’t actually see anyone. But she thought so. It had been going on since the summer.”
“We’ll need to ask Sunee about that,” Erlendur said. “Have her phone checked: who’s called her and who she’s been calling.”
“Okay.”
His mobile rang again when Erlendur was pulling up outside the police station. It was Valgerdur. She had heard about the murder and was surprised and horrified. They had arranged to meet that evening but Erlendur said it might not work out. She told him that it didn’t matter.
“Do you have any idea what happened?” she asked anxiously.
“None,” Erlendur said.
“I don’t want to hold you up. Let’s talk later,” she said and they rang off.
Erlendur pulled his overcoat tight as he hurried into the police station, and it suddenly struck him that Niran could hardly be outdoors in such a raging northerly. The freezing, dry wind bit his face. When he looked up, the moon was barely visible, pale as frost.