The bitter north wind had dropped, giving way to milder weather. It was still early and the city was dark under an overcast sky. A two-year-old boy started howling, turning a pained gaze on Nanna as a little girl hit him over the head with a pink plastic spade, then shovelled sand over him. Nanna moved the toddler out of harm’s way and comforted him, before putting him down in another, more peaceful sandpit.
‘She’s a little terror, that one,’ Nanna said apologetically as she came back, nodding towards the girl who appeared to Erlendur to be already casting around for a new victim.
‘Yes, she’s quite something,’ said Marion. ‘We’ve talked to your brother’s neighbours. They speak well of him. Say he was quiet. They weren’t aware of many visitors. There was an elderly man living opposite him on the third floor—’
‘Yes, Jóhann,’ said Nanna.
‘You know him?’
‘I’ve seen him about. Kristvin had a lot of time for him.’
‘Jóhann obviously felt the same. He told us your brother was very kind; used to carry his groceries upstairs for him and would always ask if he needed anything when he was going out to the shops himself. He mended the old man’s kitchen sink for him.’
‘They got on well. Kristvin told me Jóhann found it tough at times, living on the third floor.’
‘I take it your brother moved there when he came home from America?’
Nanna nodded. ‘He stayed with me for a while to begin with, but then he found this flat on the top floor of a block without a lift, in the back of beyond. The cheapest place he could find. He took out a mortgage. Owed a lot on his student loan as well.’
‘But he had a good job,’ Erlendur chipped in.
‘Yes, he was on a decent wage once he started work at the airport.’
‘Was he involved in smuggling?’
‘Smuggling?’
Nanna was momentarily flustered, but quickly realised that this was the intention.
‘We found various items in his flat that we have reason to believe came from the naval base,’ said Erlendur. ‘Cigarettes, beer and vodka.
‘Oh, that. I don’t know if any of it was smuggled — yes, probably. It was mostly for his own use but he sometimes gave me some. I asked him to buy me stuff from time to time — gave him the money. You can get it dirt cheap down there compared to the prices at the state off-licence, and of course you can’t get beer here.’
‘And the dope?’ said Marion.
‘Dope?’
‘We found cannabis in his flat. Marijuana.’
‘Oh, the grass,’ said Nanna. ‘Was it in the freezer?’
‘Was he dealing in drugs from his flat?’
‘No, he wasn’t. Not drugs. Occasionally beer and vodka. Jóhann bought some, for example. And one or two other people he knew.’
‘Any idea who they were?’ asked Marion.
‘Is it important?’
‘Could be.’
‘Were you aware he used drugs?’ asked Erlendur.
‘Yes, of course. We both did. Mostly me, though.’
‘You?’
‘Yes.’
‘What...?’
‘It helps with the pain.’
‘What pain?’ asked Erlendur.
Nanna looked at them searchingly.
‘You must have noticed the wig.’
They didn’t react.
‘This here.’ She pointed to her head. ‘Do you think I wear it for fun?’
They still didn’t say anything.
‘I have cancer,’ said Nanna. ‘It’s not long since I finished the second lot of chemotherapy and they say it went well but they can’t promise anything. Just like the first time. Kristvin’s grass helped — it made me feel less sick during the treatment. When he was in America he’d read that marijuana can help cancer patients, so he thought it was worth giving it a try.’
‘Did he get it from the base?’ asked Marion.
‘Yes.’
‘Shouldn’t you have told us this yesterday?’
‘I was going to but then we... we went to the morgue... I thought I’d die before him, you know. Because of the cancer. Then... then I didn’t hear from him and suddenly... suddenly he’s dead. In this horrible way.’
‘You shouldn’t be at work,’ said Marion, taking Nanna’s hand. ‘Can’t we drive you home? You really shouldn’t be here. Isn’t there anyone who can come and keep you company?’
The little girl was still wreaking havoc. This time she destroyed a sandcastle that two other children had taken great pains over, and they burst into tears. Another helper ran over and grabbed the girl by the scruff of her neck when she tried to make off. Nanna went to comfort the castle-builders and help them start again.
‘The little pest,’ she said when she came back, and heaved a deep breath. ‘She’ll be a handful one day.’
‘Are you all right?’ asked Marion.
‘I’m fine,’ said Nanna. ‘I’d rather look after the kids than hang around at home. It’s nothing. I’m all right.’
‘Who sold him the drugs?’ asked Erlendur.
‘I don’t know. All I know is he got them from the base. He had contacts but he didn’t tell me who they were and I didn’t ask too many questions. He said he was careful. I kept asking him about that and telling him to watch himself, and I know he did. My brother was no fool. He knew what he was doing.’
But look how he ended up, Erlendur wanted to say, but stopped himself. He had no desire to increase her suffering; she had enough to cope with. He believed Nanna was telling the truth and that she was desperate to find out what had happened to her brother. He didn’t believe for a moment that she could have played any part in his death, though Marion had hinted as much on their way to the nursery school. Marion wanted to pursue this angle because she hadn’t come clean to them about the booze or drugs, but Erlendur thought she’d simply had too much else on her mind at the time. Marion took the view that she was hiding something from the police about the goods. But Erlendur dis-agreed, especially now that Nanna had admitted to using the drugs for medicinal purposes and apparently didn’t regard the fact as a big deal.
‘How did he travel to and fro?’ asked Erlendur.
‘To and fro?’
‘Between Reykjavík and Keflavík.’
‘Oh, he had a car,’ said Nanna. ‘Haven’t you found it?’
‘What sort of car?’ asked Marion. ‘We didn’t find any car registered in his name.’
‘That’s because it was mine — it’s still in my name. A Toyota Corolla. I sold it to him. We just hadn’t got round to transferring ownership. And as Kristvin had only paid me half, I still use it quite a bit too, so...’
‘You took turns using it?’ finished Erlendur, and wrote down the details: two-door, grey, six years old, constantly breaking down.
‘Yes, but he’s been using it for the last few weeks.’
13
A spell in custody had done nothing to soften up Ellert and Vignir, or make them any more amenable. They were as insolent and insufferable as the day they had been locked up in Sídumúli Prison, and still stubbornly denied any wrongdoing. They had much in common, although it wasn’t obvious from their appearance that they were brothers. One was stocky and ungainly, with a thick head of hair; the other tall, lanky and almost totally bald. They lived together — always had — and were described as very close. Vignir, the ungainly one, was the elder, and acted as spokesman for them both, as far as the police could gather. Ellert was a more shadowy figure who kept a low profile and stayed in the background. Perhaps that was why he was known as ‘the Old Lady’. But, according to police informants, he was the real mastermind behind the brothers’ business and on the rare occasions he showed his hand you would go far to find another thug as vicious as him. He was aware of his nickname and thin-skinned about it. There was a story doing the rounds that a man who used it to his face had spent the next two months in intensive care; he claimed to have been hit by a car, never fully recovered and left the country after a spell in rehabilitation. Whether it was true or not, nobody could say.