appeared unexpectedly at the third door and let out a peculiar bark on spotting his wife in the arms of the butler. His wife thrust the butler away, crying that he had tried to have his wicked way with her. The butler gave the audience a look as if to say, ‘In your dreams!’ Cue more gales of laughter from the audience. Valgerdur, beaming from ear to ear, glanced at Erlendur, only to sense his boredom. She stroked his arm and he smiled at her.
After the show they went to a cafe. He ordered a chartreuse with his coffee. She ordered chocolate cake served hot with ice cream, and a sweet liqueur. They discussed the play. She had enjoyed it but he was unimpressed, merely pointing out inconsistencies in the plot.
‘Oh, Erlendur, it was only a farce. You’re not supposed to take it so seriously,’ Valgerdur said. ‘You’re supposed to laugh and forget yourself. I thought it was hilarious.’
‘Yes, people certainly laughed a lot,’ Erlendur said. ‘I’m not used to going to the theatre. Are you familiar with an actor called Orri Fjeldsted?’
He remembered what Thorgerdur had said about Baldvin’s actor friends. He himself knew next to nothing about the celebrity world.
‘Of course I do,’ Valgerdur said. ‘You saw him in The Wild Duck.’
‘The Wild Duck?’
‘Yes, he was the husband. A bit old for the role, perhaps, but… a very good actor.’
‘Yes, he is,’ Erlendur said.
A keen theatregoer, Valgerdur had managed to drag Erlendur along with her on a handful of occasions. She chose weighty plays, Ibsen and Strindberg, in the hope that they would appeal to him, but discovered that he was bored. He fell asleep during The Wild Duck. She tried comedies. They were beyond the pale, in his opinion. However, he did enjoy a dreary production of Death of a Salesman, which did not come as a particular surprise to Valgerdur.
The cafe was fairly empty. Easy-listening music was playing from somewhere above their heads. It sounded like Sinatra to Erlendur: ‘Moon River’. He had a record of Sinatra singing it. He had once seen a film in the cinema – he had forgotten the name – in which the song was sung by a beautiful actress. There were few people out in the chilly autumn weather. The odd figure darted past their window, bundled up in a down jacket or winter coat; faceless, nameless people who had business in town at this late hour.
‘Eva wants me and Halldora to meet,’ Erlendur announced, sipping his liqueur.
‘Oh,’ Valgerdur said.
‘She wants us to try to improve our relationship.’
‘That makes sense, doesn’t it?’ Valgerdur said. She always took Eva Lind’s side when her name came up in conversation. ‘You have two children together. It’s natural for you to have some sort of contact. Is she prepared to meet you?’
‘So Eva says.’
‘Why haven’t you been in contact for all these years?’
Erlendur paused for thought.
‘Neither of us wanted it,’ he answered.
‘It must have been difficult for them. For Sindri and Eva.’
Erlendur did not reply.
‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ Valgerdur asked.
‘I don’t know. It’s become so remote, somehow. Our relationship. The way we were. A whole lifetime has passed since we lived together. What would we talk about? Why rake it all up?’
‘Maybe time has healed the wounds.’
‘It didn’t seem like that when I bumped into her a few years ago. She hadn’t forgotten anything.’
‘But now she wants to meet you?’
‘Apparently, yes.’
‘Maybe it’s a sign that she’s willing for there to be a reconciliation.’
‘Maybe.’
‘And it’s important to Eva.’
‘That’s the point. She’s pushing pretty hard for it but…’
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ Erlendur said. ‘Except…’
‘Yes?’
‘I couldn’t bear any sort of score-settling.’
The foreman called down to Gilbert who was standing at the bottom of a vast, cavernous foundation pit. He was dressed in blue overalls and smoking a cigarette. The foreman informed Erlendur that they were building an eight-storey block of flats with a basement car park, which was why the foundations had to be so wide and deep. He didn’t ask why Erlendur wanted to speak to Gilbert, who stood for a long time looking up at them on the edge of the pit before flicking away his cigarette and starting to climb a large wooden ladder that rose from the depths. It took him quite some time. The foreman made himself scarce. The site was up by Lake Ellidavatn. Yellow cranes reared into the gloomy grey afternoon sky as far as the eye could see, like giant square brackets thrust into the ground by the gods of industry. There was a roar from an unseen dumper truck. From somewhere else came the electronic beeping of a reversing lorry.
Erlendur introduced himself, shaking Gilbert by the hand. Gilbert didn’t know what to make of it. Erlendur asked if they could sit down somewhere quiet, out of this din. Gilbert studied him, then nodded towards a green hut. It was the contractors’ cafeteria.
Inside the suffocating heat of the cafeteria, Gilbert half-unzipped his blue overalls.
‘I can’t believe you’re asking about David after all this time,’ he said. ‘Has there been some new development?’
‘No, nothing,’ Erlendur said. ‘It’s a case I handled back in the day and for some reason…’
‘It won’t go away. Is that it?’ Gilbert finished for him.
He was a tall, lanky man of around fifty who looked older; a little hunched as if he had grown used to avoiding door lintels and low ceilings. His arms were long like his body; his eyes sunken in his gaunt face. He hadn’t bothered to shave for several days and his stubble rasped when he scratched it.
Erlendur nodded.
‘I’d just moved to Denmark when he went missing,’ Gilbert said. ‘I didn’t hear about it till later and was totally shocked. It’s sad that he’s never been found.’
‘It is,’ Erlendur said. ‘An attempt was made to track you down at the time but with no success.’
‘Are his parents still alive?’
‘His father is, but he’s old and in poor health.’
‘Are you doing this for him?’
‘No, not for anyone in particular,’ Erlendur said. ‘It emerged the other day that you’re the only one of his friends we never talked to because you’d moved abroad.’
‘I meant to spend a year in Denmark,’ Gilbert said, fishing a new cigarette from inside his overalls. His movements were slow and methodical. He found a lighter in another pocket and tapped the cigarette on the table. ‘But ended up staying for twenty. It was never the intention but… that’s life.’
‘I gather you spoke to David shortly before you left the country.’
‘Yes, we were always in contact. Have you been talking to Steini – Thorsteinn, I mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘I met him at one of those reunions. Apart from that I’ve lost all contact with the gang I knew in the old days.’
‘You told Thorsteinn it was conceivable that David had met a girl. That information never emerged during the original investigation. I wanted to find out if you know who it was and if I can get hold of her.’
‘Steini didn’t have a clue. I assumed he knew more than I did,’ Gilbert said, lighting the cigarette. ‘I don’t know who the girl was. I don’t even know if there was a girl. Did nobody come forward when David went missing?’
‘No,’ Erlendur said.
His mobile phone began to ring. He asked Gilbert to excuse him and took out his phone.
‘Yes, hello.’
‘Are you questioning people about Maria?’
