other. He shone his torch inside. The boat was old and crumbling as if it had not been used for a long time. There were work tables on either side of it and shelves against the far wall, reaching from floor to ceiling. On one of them, down by the floor, he noticed an old Husqvarna outboard motor.
Erlendur carefully shone his torch beam over the shelves and floor. The boathouse contained various objects that one would expect to find at a holiday cottage: gardening tools such as a wheelbarrow and spades, a gas container and barbecue, cans of paint and wood varnish, and a collection of other tools. Erlendur didn’t know exactly what he was looking for and had been standing in the shed for nearly quarter of an hour, lighting up every nook and cranny, before it dawned on him.
It was neatly stowed. Not as if anyone had been trying to hide the machine, quite the reverse, but neither was it in any way obvious. It was part of the furnishings, part of the mess, yet it drew his attention once he realised what he was looking for. He flashed his torch over it: a square box like a large, thick briefcase. Despite its unobtrusiveness, the machine awakened in Erlendur a strange old sense of dread, dating back to the time when he had almost frozen to death on the moors out east.
Leonora had always said that the accident was their secret and that no one must ever know what had really happened, Otherwise they might be forcibly separated, It would be best if they didn’t talk about the terrible event, Accidents happened which were nobody’s fault and this was one of them, Nothing could be changed now, nothing would be achieved by explaining exactly what had happened on board the boat, Maria listened to her mother, placing all her trust in her, It was not until much later that the long-term consequences of the lie began to emerge, Maria’s life could never be the same, however much her mother wanted it to be, It could never be made whole again.
As time passed, Maria recovered from the hallucinations and depression that had afflicted her after her father’s death and even her anxiety diminished, but the guilt was always there inside her and hardly a day passed for the rest of her life when she did not think of the incident on Lake Thingvallavatn, It could happen at any time of the day or night, She had learnt to smother these thoughts at their birth but they were unrelenting and the pain of not being allowed to tell anyone what had happened, not being allowed to lighten her burden by talking about the incident was so unbearable that she sometimes thought of taking her own life, of putting an end to her suffering and anguish, Nothing was worse than the oppressive silence that clamoured for her attention every day, sometimes many times a day.
She had never been allowed to mourn her father in the normal way, never been allowed to say goodbye to him, never had the opportunity of missing him, That was the most painful aspect of all, because she had always been deeply attached to him and he had always been good to his little girl, Nor did she indulge in any memories of him from before the incident, She wouldn’t allow herself that luxury.
‘Forgive me,’ Leonora whispered.
Maria was sitting by her mother’s bedside as usual, They both knew there was not much time left.
‘For what?’ she asked.
‘It… was wrong, All of it, from the beginning. I… Forgive me…’
‘It’s all right,’ Maria said.
‘No… It’s not all right. I thought… I was thinking of you. I did it for you, You… you must understand that. I didn’t want anything… anything to happen to you.’
‘I know,’ Maria said.
‘But… I… I shouldn’t have kept quiet about the accident.’
‘You wanted the best for me,’ Maria said.
‘Yes… but it was selfish of me, too…’
‘No,’ Maria said.
‘Can you forgive me?’
‘Don’t worry about this now.’
‘Can you?’
Maria was silent.
‘Are you going to tell people what happened once I’m dead?’
Maria didn’t answer.
‘Tell… people,’ Leonora groaned, ‘Please… for your own sake… Tell people… Tell them the whole thing.’
31
Erlendur spent the next two days gathering further information about what he suspected might have happened at the cottage the evening Maria was found dead. He was not yet ready to present his hypothesis and wondered if it would be better to interview Baldvin and Karolina separately or together. He hadn’t discussed his investigation with anyone else. Sigurdur Oli and Elinborg were aware that he was extremely busy, though they didn’t have a clue with what, and even Valgerdur had heard from him less often than usual. The case occupied all his thoughts. He was also waiting for a phone call from Lake Sandkluftavatn that still hadn’t come.
Over the past few days the desire that sometimes seized him to go east to the derelict farm and on to the moors had been growing in him.
He was sitting at home over a bowl of porridge and pickled liver sausage when he heard a knock at the door. He went out and opened the door to Valgerdur who kissed him on the cheek and slipped inside past him. She took off her coat, laid it on a chair and sat down in the kitchen.
‘I don’t hear from you any more,’ she said, helping herself to a bowl of porridge. Erlendur cut her a slice of liver sausage. It wasn’t nearly sour enough for his taste, although he had insisted that it should be taken straight from the pickling vat while he waited at the meat counter in the shop. The teenage boy who served him obeyed with a look of disdain, and obviously took no pleasure in plunging his hand into the sour whey. On the same shopping trip Erlendur had also bought some sour-lamb rolls, fatty breast meat on the bone and a portion of sheep’s head in jelly that he kept in a tub of pickling whey out on his balcony.
‘I’ve been busy at work,’ Erlendur said.
‘What are you up to?’ Valgerdur asked.
‘The same case.’
‘Ghosts and apparitions?’
‘Yes, something like that. Would you like some coffee?’
Valgerdur nodded and Erlendur got to his feet to turn on the machine. She remarked that he looked tired and asked if he had any leave saved up. He said that he had plenty of holiday owed to him but so far hadn’t found any use for it.
‘How did the meeting go the other day? The meeting with Halldora?’
‘Not too well,’ Erlendur said. ‘I don’t know if it was a good idea to see her. There are so many things we’ll never see eye to eye on.’
‘Like what?’ Valgerdur asked warily.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Lots of things.’
‘Nothing you want to talk about?’
‘I don’t think there’s any point. She feels I wasn’t honest with her.’
‘And weren’t you?’
Erlendur grimaced. Valgerdur turned to face him as he stood by the coffee-maker.
‘That probably depends on how you look at it,’ he said.
‘Oh?’
Erlendur heaved a sigh.
‘She went into the relationship wholeheartedly. I didn’t. That’s the great betrayal. The fact that I didn’t enter wholeheartedly into the relationship.’
‘I don’t think I want to hear about that, Erlendur,’ Valgerdur said. ‘It’s nothing to do with me. It was a long time ago and has nothing to do with us. With our relationship.’
‘Yes, I know. But… perhaps I understand her better now. She’s been brooding over it ever since, for all these years. I think that’s where her anger stems from.’
