Erlendur went to three video rental shops before he found the western to take for Marion Briem. He had once heard Marion describe it as a favourite because it was about a man who faced a looming peril alone when the community, including all his best friends, turned its back on him.
He knocked on the door, but no one answered. Marion was expecting him, because Erlendur had telephoned in advance, so he opened the door, which was unlocked, and let himself in. Not planning to stay, he only intended to drop the video in. He was awaiting a visit that evening from Valgerdur, who had moved in with her sister.
“So you’re here?” said Marion, who had fallen asleep on the sofa. “I heard you knock. I feel so tired. I’ve slept all day. Do you mind pushing the oxygen tank over to me?”
Erlendur placed the cylinder by the sofa and an old memory of a lonely and absurd death suddenly crossed his mind when he saw Marion’s hand reach for the oxygen.
The police had been called to a house in Thingholt. He had gone with Marion. He had only been in the CID a few months. Someone had died at home and it was classified as accidental death. A large elderly woman was sitting in an armchair in front of her television. She had been dead for a fortnight. Erlendur was almost overpowered by the stench in the flat. The woman’s neighbour had called the police because of the smell. He had not seen her for some time and eventually noticed that her television could be heard softly through the wall around the clock. She had choked. A plate of salted meat and boiled turnips was on the table beside her. A knife and fork lay on the floor by the chair. A large lump of meat was lodged in her throat. She had not managed to get out of the deep armchair. Her face was dark blue. It turned out that she had no relatives who called on her. No one ever visited her. No one missed her.
“I know we all have to die,” Marion had said, looking down at the body, “but I don’t want to die like that.”
“Poor woman,” Erlendur said, covering his nose and mouth.
“Yes, poor woman,” Marion said. “Was that why you joined the police force? To look at things like this?”
“No,” Erlendur said.
“Why, then?” Marion asked. “What are you doing this for?”
“Have a seat,” he heard Marion say through his thoughts. “Don’t stand there like a dickhead.”
He returned to himself and sat down in a chair facing Marion.
“You don’t have to visit me, Erlendur.”
“I know,” Erlendur said. “I brought you another film. Starring Gary Cooper.”
“Have you seen it?” Marion asked.
“Yes,” Erlendur said. “Ages ago.”
“Why are you so glum, what were you thinking about?” Marion asked.
“”We all have to die, but I don’t want to die like that.””
“Yes,” Marion said, after a short pause. “I remember her. That old girl in the chair. And now you’re looking at me and thinking the same thing.”
Erlendur shrugged.
“You didn’t answer my question, “Marion said.” And you still haven’t.”
“I don’t know why I joined the police force,” Erlendur said. “It was a job. A cushy office job.”
“No, there was something more to it,” Marion said. “Something more than just a cushy office job.”
“Don’t you have anyone?” Erlendur asked, trying to change the subject. He di dnot know how to phrase it. “Anyone who can take care of things after… when it’s all over?”
“No,” Marion said.
“What do you want done with you?” Erlendur asked. “Don’t we have to discuss that some time? The practical stuff. You’re bound to have arranged it all, if I know you.”
“Are you starting to look forward to it?” Marion asked.
“I never look forward to anything,” Erlendur said.
“I’ve spoken to alawyer, a young solicitor, who will sort out my affairs, thank you. Perhaps you could handle the practical side. The cremation.”
“Cremation?”
“I don’t want to rot in a coffin,” Marion said. “I’ll have myself cremated. There won’t be aceremony. No fuss.”
“And the ashes?”
“You know what the film’s really about?” said Marion, clearly trying to avoid giving an answer. “The Gary Cooper film. It’s about the witch hunts against communists in 1950s America. An outlaw gang arrives in town to attack Cooper and his friends turn their backs on him. He ends up alone and defenceless.
“Yes, you said that to me once.”
It was well into the evening but the sky was still bright. Erlendur looked out of the window. It would not get dark, either. He always missed that in the summer. Missed the darkness. Yearned for the cold black of night and the deep winter.
“What’s this thing you’ve got about westerns?” Erlendur asked. He could not resist asking. He knew nothing of Marion’s passion for westerns before. In fact he knew very little about Marion at all, and when he started to think about it, sitting in the living room, he recalled only very rarely ever having spoken to Marion on a personal level.
“The landscapes,” Marion said. “The horses. The wide open spaces.”
Silence crept over the room. Marion appeared to be dozing off.
“The last time I was here I mentioned Leopold, the man who owned the Ford Falcon and went missing from the coach station,” Erlendur said. “You told me you’d telephoned his girlfriend to tell her there was no record anywhere of a man by that name.”
“Does that matter? If I remember correctly, that twat Niels was trying to avoid telling her. I’d never heard anything so stupid.”
“What did she say when you raised it?”
Marion’s mind drifted back in time. Erlendur knew that despite old age and various ailments, Marion Briem’s memory was still infallible.
“Naturally she wasn’t very pleased. Niels was handling the case and I didn’t want to interfere too much.”
“Did you give her any hope that he could still be alive?”
“No,” Marion said. “That would have been ridiculous. Totally absurd. I hope you haven’t got that kind of bee in your bonnet.”
“No,” Erlendur said. “I haven’t.”
“And don’t let her hear it!”
“No,” Erlendur said. “That would definitely be ridiculous.”
Eva Lind called him when he got home. He had been away from his office almost all day, then went to buy some food. He had put a ready meal in the microwave, which rang at the same moment as the telephone. Eva Lind was much calmer now. Although she would not tell him where she was, she said she had met a man in rehab whom she was staying with for the time being, and told her father not to worry about her. She had met Sindri at a cafe in town. He was looking for a job.
“Is he going to live in Reykjavik?” Erlendur asked.
“Yes, he wants to move back to the city. Is that a bad thing?”
“Him moving to the city?”
“You seeing more of him.”
“No, I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I think it’s good if he wants to move back. Don’t always think the worst of me, Eva. Who is this man you’re staying with?”
“No one,” Eva Lind said. “And I don’t always think the worst of you.”
“Are you doing drugs together?”
“Doing drugs?”
