‘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 unsuccessful. 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.’
‘There’s not much I can do about it,’ Baldvin said. ‘I would have told you about it if I’d thought it had the slightest bearing.’
‘What was María’s attitude to the money?’
‘Attitude? I… no particular attitude. She wasn’t very interested in money.’
‘For example, did she want you both to use the money to get more out of life? Did she want to spend it on luxuries? Or was she like her mother and preferred to avoid thinking about it?’
‘She was well aware of the existence of the money,’ Baldvin said.
‘But didn’t spend it?’
‘No. Neither she nor Leonóra did. You’re right. I think I know why, but that’s another matter. Who have you been talking to, if I may ask?’
‘That probably has no bearing at this stage. I imagine that you would have preferred to enjoy the good things in life. All that money just sitting there, no one using it.’
Baldvin took a deep breath.
‘I have no interest in talking about the money,’ he said.
‘What sort of financial arrangement did you and María have? Did you have a prenuptial agreement?’
‘Yes, we did, as it happens.’
‘What kind of agreement?’
‘She would keep the land or any money raised from its sale.’
‘So it was in her name?’
‘Yes. She would keep the lot if we divorced.’
‘Right,’ Erlendur said. ‘Then there’s question number two. Do you know a man by the name of Tryggvi?’
‘Tryggvi? No.’
‘Of course, it’s a long time since you met but you ought to remember the circumstances. He has a cousin by the name of Sigvaldi who lives in the States. His girlfriend was called Dagmar. She’s on holiday in Florida at the moment but she’ll be back in a week or so. I’m going to try and catch up with her then. Do those names ring any bells?’