“Tell me another thing.”
“Yes?”
“Does she have any relatives who are still alive?”
“Who?”
“Benjamin’s fiancee. Is there anyone I could talk to?”
“Why? What do you want to look into that for? He would never have done a thing to her.”
“I understand that. All the same, we have these bones and they belong to someone and they won’t go away. I have to investigate all the avenues.”
“She had a sister who I know is still alive. Her name’s Bara.”
“When did she go missing, this girl?”
“It was 1940,” Elsa said. “They told me it was on a beautiful spring day.”
9
Robert Sigurdsson was still alive, but just barely, Sigurdur Oli thought. He sat with Elinborg in the old man’s room, thinking to himself as he looked at Robert’s pallid face that he would not want to be 90 years old. He shuddered. The old man was toothless, with anaemic lips, his cheeks sunken, tufts of hair standing up from his ghoulish head in all directions. He was connected to an oxygen cylinder which stood on a trolley beside him. Every time he needed to say something he took off his oxygen mask with a trembling hand and let out a couple of words before he had to put it back on.
Robert had sold his chalet long ago and it had changed hands twice more before eventually it was demolished and a new one built nearby. Sigurdur Oli and Elinborg woke up the owner of the new chalet shortly before noon to hear this rather vague and disjointed story.
They had the office staff locate the old man while they were driving back from the hill. It turned out that he was in the National Hospital, just turned 90.
Elinborg did the talking at the hospital and explained the case to Robert while he sat shrivelled up in a wheelchair, gulping down pure oxygen from the cylinder. A lifelong smoker. He seemed in full command of his faculties, despite his miserable physical state, and nodded to show that he understood every word and was well aware of the detectives’ business. The nurse who showed them in to him and stood behind his wheelchair told them that they ought not to tire him by spending too long with him.
“I remember…” he said in a low, hoarse voice. His hand shook as he put the mask back on and inhaled the oxygen. Then he took the mask off again.
“…that house, but…”
Mask up.
Sigurdur Oli looked at Elinborg and then at his watch, making no attempt to conceal his impatience.
“Don’t you want…” she began, but the mask came off again.
“…I only remember…” Robert interjected, wracked with breathlessness.
Mask up.
“Why don’t you go to the canteen and get something to eat?” Elinborg said to Sigurdur Oli, who looked again at his watch, at the old man and then at her, sighed, stood up and disappeared from the room.
Mask down.
“…one family who lived there.”
Mask up. Elinborg waited a moment to see whether he would continue, but Robert said nothing and she pondered how to phrase the questions so that he only needed to answer with a yes or a no, and could use his head without having to speak. She told him she wanted to try that and he nodded. Clear as a bell, she thought.
“Did you own a chalet there during the war?”
Robert nodded.
“Did this family live there during the war?”
Robert nodded.
“Do you remember the names of the people who lived in the house at that time?”
Robert shook his head. No.
“Was it a big family?”
Robert shook his head again. No.
“A couple with two, three children, more?”
Robert nodded and held out three anaemic fingers.
“A couple with three children. Did you ever meet these people? Did you have any contact with them or not know them at all?” Elinborg had forgotten her rule about yes and no and Robert took off his mask.
“Didn’t know them.” Mask up again. The nurse was growing restless as she stood behind the wheelchair glaring at Elinborg as if she ought to stop immediately and looking ready to intervene at any second. Robert took off his mask.
“…die.”
“Who? Those people? Who died?” Elinborg leaned over closer to him, waiting for him to take the mask off again. Yet again he put a trembling hand to the oxygen mask and took it off.
“Useless…”
Elinborg could tell that he was having trouble speaking and she strained with all her might to urge him on. She stared at him and waited for him to say more.
Mask down.
“…vegetable.”
Robert dropped his mask, his eyes closed and his head sank onto his chest.
“Ah,” the nurse said curtly, “So now you’ve finished him off for good.” She picked up the mask and stuck it over Robert’s nose and mouth with unnecessary force as he sat with his head on his chest and his old eyes closed as if he had fallen asleep. Maybe he really was dying for all Elinborg knew. She stood up and watched the nurse push Robert over to his bed, lift him like a feather out of the wheelchair and lay him down there.
“Are you trying to kill the poor man with this nonsense?” the nurse said, a strapping woman aged about 50 with her hair in a bun, wearing a white coat, white trousers and white clogs. She glared ferociously at Elinborg. “I should never have allowed this,” she muttered in self-reproach. “He’ll hardly live until the morning,” she said in a loud voice directed back at Elinborg, with an obvious tone of accusation.
“Sorry,” Elinborg said, without being completely aware why she was apologising. “We thought he could help us about some old bones. I hope he’s not feeling too bad.”
Lying flat out now, Robert suddenly opened his eyes. He looked around as if gradually realising where he was, and took off his oxygen mask despite the nurse’s protests.
“Often came,” he panted, “…later. Green… lady… bushes…”
“Bushes?” Elinborg said. She thought for a moment. “Do you mean the redcurrants?”
The nurse put the mask back on Robert, but Elinborg thought she detected a nod towards her.
“Who was it? Do you mean yourself? Do you remember the redcurrant bushes? Did you go there? Did you go to the bushes?”
Robert slowly shook his head.
“Get out and leave him alone,” the nurse ordered Elinborg, who had stood up to lean over to Robert, but not too closely so as not to provoke her more than she already had.
“Can you tell me about it?” Elinborg went on. “Did you know who it was? Who used to go to the redcurrant bushes?”
Robert had closed his eyes.
“Later?” Elinborg continued. “What do you mean later?”
Robert opened his eyes and lifted up his old, bony hands to indicate that he wanted a pencil and piece of paper. The nurse shook her head and told him to rest, he had been through enough. He clutched her hand and looked imploringly at her.
“Out of the question,” the nurse said. “Would you please get out of here,” she said to Elinborg.
“Shouldn’t we let him decide? If he dies tonight…”
“We?” the nurse said. “Who’s we? Have you been looking after these patients for 30 years?” she snorted. “Will you get out before I have you removed.”
Elinborg glanced down at Robert who had closed his eyes again and seemed to be asleep. She looked at the nurse and reluctantly started moving towards the door. The nurse followed her and shut the door behind her the moment Elinborg was out in the corridor. Elinborg thought of calling in Sigurdur Oli to argue with the nurse and inform her how important it was for Robert to tell them what he wanted to say. She dropped the idea. Sigurdur Oli was certain to enrage her even more.
Elinborg walked down the corridor and could see Sigurdur Oli in the canteen devouring a banana with an apish look on his face. On her way to join him, she stopped. There was an alcove or TV den at the end of the corridor and she retreated into it and hid behind a tree that was planted in a huge pot and stretched all the way up to the ceiling. She waited there, watching the door, like a lioness hiding in the grass.