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Hypothermia

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Karólína darted into the kitchen and removed a saucepan from the stove. Erlendur had disturbed her in the middle of cooking. The house was pervaded by the rich smell from the kitchen; roast lamb, he thought.

‘I was just making coffee,’ Karólína said when she came back from the kitchen. ‘Can I offer you a cup?’

Erlendur accepted. The rule was always to accept coffee if it was offered. Elínborg had been quick to learn this. Sigurdur Óli still hadn’t grasped the concept.

Karólína came out with two cups of steaming hot coffee. She drank it black, as did Erlendur.

‘Baldvin and I met at drama school in old Jóhannes’s class. God, he could be a swine. Jóhannes, I mean. And a rotten actor. Anyway, Baldvin and I split up when he quit acting and went to study medicine. May I ask why you’re investigating him?’

‘I’m hardly investigating him,’ Erlendur said. ‘But I heard – you know how people gossip – that you two had known each other before and maybe even renewed your acquaintance recently.’

‘Where did you hear that?’

‘I’ve forgotten – I’d have to look it up.’

Karólína smiled.

‘Is it any of your business?’

‘I really don’t know yet,’ Erlendur said.

‘He told me you might drop by,’ she said.

‘Baldvin?’

‘We did pick up the thread again, you’re right. It’s not as if there’s any need to hide the fact. I told him so and he agreed with me. It began again about five years ago. We met at a drama school graduation reunion. Baldvin turned up even though he didn’t graduate with us. He said he was fed up with the old bag – Leonóra, that is, María’s mother. She was living with them.’

‘Why didn’t he end his marriage and move in with you then? It seems as if few things could be easier these days.’

‘He was going to,’ Karólína said. ‘I was so pissed off with the situation that I gave him an ultimatum. But then that bitch Leonóra fell ill and he couldn’t bring himself to do that to María. He wanted to stand by her through her ordeal and he did. My main fear was that their relationship would improve after the old bitch died and in fact he did stop coming to see me. Didn’t have eyes for anyone but María. But he soon got over it.’

‘Is that how Baldvin described Leonóra? As a bitch?’

‘He couldn’t stand her any longer. It got worse over the years. Maybe I should be grateful to her, if I’m mean. He wanted her out of the house but for some reason María had a problem with that.’

‘María and Baldvin didn’t have any children?’

‘Baldvin can’t and María wasn’t interested,’ Karólína said bluntly.

‘When are you two thinking of making your relationship official?’ Erlendur asked.

‘You sound like a country vicar.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…’

‘Baldvin’s a considerate person,’ Karólína said. ‘He wants to wait a whole year. I told him that might be overdoing it a bit. But he won’t budge. Not until after a year at the earliest, he says.’

‘But you’re not happy with that?’

‘Oh, I understand him all right. It’s such a tragedy and all that. We needn’t be in any hurry.’

‘Did María know about your relationship?’

‘Can I ask what you’re investigating? What you’re looking for? Do you think Baldvin did something to her?’

‘Is that what you think?’

‘No way. He wouldn’t be capable of it. He’s a doctor, for Christ’s sake! What makes you think it wasn’t suicide?’

‘I don’t think that,’ Erlendur said.

‘Is this some Swedish survey or…?’

‘You’ve heard about that?’

‘Baldvin heard something. We’ve no idea what’s going on.’

‘I’m just gathering information so that we can close the case,’ Erlendur said. ‘Did you know that he’s inherited three hundred million from his wife?’

‘I only found out recently. He told me the other day. Wasn’t it from some land speculation of her father’s?’

‘Yes – he owned a small plot in Kópavogur that shot up in value. Baldvin’s the sole beneficiary.’

‘Yes, he mentioned something about that. I don’t think he knew anything about it until a short time ago. Or at least that’s what he told me.’

‘I heard that the money came in the nick of time,’ Erlendur said.

‘Really?’

‘He’s pretty seriously in debt.’

‘Baldvin’s been a bit unlucky with some shares he bought, that’s all I know. Some unlucky investment in a construction company that went bust, on top of the debts still outstanding from the surgery that didn’t work out. We don’t talk much about that sort of stuff. At least, we haven’t up to now.’

‘You’ve given up acting, haven’t you?’ Erlendur asked.

‘Yes, more or less.’

‘May I ask why?’

‘I was in a few plays. Not very big, but…’

‘Unfortunately, I go to the theatre far too rarely.’

‘I just felt I wasn’t getting good enough roles. At the big theatres, that is. And of course the competition’s really tough. It’s a pretty ruthless world. You find that out straight away at drama school. And age doesn’t help. A middle-aged actress like me isn’t as sought after. I got a good job at a finance company but the odd small part still comes my way if the director happens to remember me.’

‘I gather your biggest role was as Magdalena in that Swedish play, whatever it was called…’ Erlendur said, pretending not to remember the title.

‘Who told you that? Someone who remembered me?’

‘Yes, it was, actually. A woman I know called Valgerdur. She’s a regular theatre-goer.’

‘And she remembered me?’

Erlendur nodded, realising that he needn’t worry about having to answer any awkward questions about why he had been discussing Karólína with other people. She seemed to take it as recognition, regardless of the circumstances. He remembered what the drama teacher had said about Karólína’s ambition, the fame she had dreamed of achieving. What was it he’d said? She’d wanted to be a diva.

‘Flame of Hope,’ Karólína said. ‘It was a really good play and you’re right, it was my biggest role – when I hit the heights, as they say.’

She smiled.

‘Not that the critics were particularly impressed; they dismissed it as old-fashioned kitchen-sink drama. They can be such bastards. They don’t even know what they’re talking about half the time.’

‘My friend thought maybe she was mixing it up with another role, another character called Magdalena.’

‘Really?’

‘A clairvoyant or medium,’ Erlendur said.

He looked for a reaction from Karólína but she didn’t seem to notice anything. He thought that either he was barking up the wrong tree or else she was a better actress than people gave her credit for.

‘I’m not familiar with it,’ Karólína said.

‘I don’t remember what she said the play was called,’ Erlendur said, permitting himself to go a step further. ‘It might have been The Fake or something like that.’

Karólína hesitated.

‘I’ve never heard of it,’ she said. ‘Was it on at the National?’

‘I don’t know,’ Erlendur replied. ‘Anyway, this Magdalena believed in the spirit world; she believed it was as real as the two of us here in this room.’

‘Oh.’

‘María believed something similar, as Baldvin will no doubt have told you.’

‘I don’t remember him mentioning it,’ Karólína said. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts.’

‘No, neither do I,’ Erlendur said. ‘He didn’t tell you that she sought help from psychics, from mediums?’

‘No, I didn’t know. I don’t know much about María, to tell the truth. Baldvin and I didn’t waste our time talking about her when we met. We had other fish to fry.’

‘I bet you did,’ Erlendur said.

‘Was there anything else?’

‘No, thanks. That’s it for the moment.’

29

Erlendur had no problem tracking down the woman who had been having an affair with Magnús at the time of his death. Kristín had told him her name and he found her address in the telephone directory. He tried talking to her on the phone but the moment she heard what he wanted she refused to continue the conversation, so he let the matter lie. Later he resumed his attack by announcing that new information about the incident at Lake Thingvallavatn in which Magnús had lost his life had possibly come to light.

‘Who have you been talking to?’ she asked over the phone.

‘I got your name from Kristín, Magnús’s sister,’ Erlendur said.

‘What did she say about me?’

‘Actually, it was about you and Magnús,’ Erlendur replied.

A long pause followed his words.

‘I suppose you’d better come round,’ the woman said at last. Her name was Sólveig and she was married with two grown-up children. ‘I’m home during the day all this week,’ she added.

When he visited her, Erlendur found Sólveig extremely wary and eager to get the matter out of the way as quickly as possible. She seemed in something of a state. They stood in her entrance hall; she did not invite him in.

‘I don’t know what I can tell you,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why you’ve come here. What new information are you talking about?’

‘It concerns you and Magnús.’

‘Yes, you told me that on the phone.’

‘And your affair.’

‘Did Kristín tell you about that?’

Erlendur nodded.

‘Magnús’s daughter recently committed suicide,’ he said.

‘So I heard.’

Sólveig fell silent. She was kind-looking, with a pretty face and tasteful clothes, and she lived in a small terraced house in the suburb of Fossvogur. She worked as a nurse and was on the evening shift this week.