Erlendur sat in his car outside her house for an hour or so, smoked two more cigarettes, then drove away down the street and towards home.

25

The bank manager did not keep Erlendur waiting. He came out and greeted him with a firm handshake before inviting him into his office. He was in his forties, smartly dressed in a pinstriped suit with a tastefully chosen tie and gleaming patent-leather shoes. The same height as Erlendur, he was a smiling, friendly man who said he had just been to London with a select group of clients to watch a major football match. Erlendur recognised the names of the teams but that was about it. The bank manager was accustomed to dealing with rich customers whose primary requirement was swift, efficient service. Erlendur knew he had worked his way up to his position through diligence, tenacity and an innate desire to please. Their paths had often crossed, ever since the manager had been a humble cashier at the bank. They had always got on well, especially after Erlendur had discovered that the cashier was not a native of Reykjavík but had grown up on a small farm in the remote south-eastern district of Öraefasveit until his family abandoned the attempt to scratch a living from the land and moved to the city.

The manager poured a coffee for Erlendur and they sat down on the leather sofas in his spacious office. They discussed horse breeding in the east and news of Reykjavík’s escalating crime rate, which was directly linked to the rise in drug use. When the conversation seemed to have run its course and Erlendur was worried that the manager would have to return to the business of making millions for the bank, although he showed no sign of impatience, he cleared his throat and came round in a circuitous way to the point of his visit.

‘Of course, you’ll have stopped helping out the police long ago,’ he said, surveying the office.

‘Other people take care of that side of things nowadays,’ the bank manager said, smoothing his tie. ‘Would you like to speak to them?’

‘No, no. It’s you I want to talk to.’

‘What is it? Do you need a loan?’

‘No.’

‘Was it about an overdraft?’

Erlendur shook his head. He had never had any particular money troubles. His salary had been perfectly adequate to cover his needs, except when he’d been setting himself up in his flat, and he had never had an overdraft or any other loan apart from his mortgage, which he had long since paid off in full.

‘No, nothing like that,’ Erlendur said. ‘Though it is a personal matter. This is strictly between the two of us. Unless you want to get me thrown out of the police.’

The bank manager smiled.

‘You’re exaggerating, surely? Why would they want to fire you?’

‘You never know with that lot. Anyway. Do you believe in ghosts? People used to in Öraefasveit, didn’t they?’

‘They certainly did. My father could tell you a story or two about that. He said the spooks were so active that they should have been made to pay council tax.’

Erlendur smiled.

‘Are you investigating ghosts?’ the bank manager asked.

‘Maybe.’

‘Ghosts who have business with the bank?’

‘I have a name,’ Erlendur said. ‘I have an ID number. I know he banks here. This was also his late wife’s bank.’

‘Is she the ghost?’

Erlendur nodded.

‘And you need to look this man up?’

Erlendur nodded again.

‘Why don’t you take the usual route? Do you have a warrant?’

Erlendur shook his head.

‘Is he a criminal?’

‘No. Possibly.’

‘Possibly? Is he someone you’re investigating?’

Erlendur nodded.

‘What’s going on? What are you looking for?’

‘I can’t tell you, I’m afraid.’

‘Who is it?’

Erlendur shook his head.

‘Aren’t I allowed to know?’

‘No. Look, I know this is highly irregular, and no doubt incomprehensible to an honest man like you, but I want to look at this man’s account and I can’t do it through the system, unfortunately. I would if I could but I can’t.’

The bank manager stared at him.

‘You’re asking me to break the law.’

‘Yes and no,’ Erlendur said.

‘So this is not an official investigation?’

Erlendur shook his head.

‘Erlendur,’ the bank manager said, ‘are you out of your mind?’

‘This case, which I can’t discuss with you, is turning into a complete nightmare. I know next to nothing about what has happened but the information I’m asking you for could conceivably help me get a better handle on it.’

‘Why isn’t this a normal inquiry?’

‘Because I’m undertaking a private investigation,’ Erlendur said. ‘No one knows what I’m up to or what I’ve uncovered. I’m completely alone on this. What happens here with you will go no further. I don’t have enough evidence yet to turn it into an official inquiry. The people I’m investigating are not aware of the fact – or at least I hope they aren’t. I don’t know exactly what information I need but I’m hoping to find out something here at the bank. You’ll have to trust me.’

‘Why are you doing this? Aren’t you putting your career on the line?’

‘It’s one of those cases where you have nothing tangible, just a whole heap of suspicions. All I’ve got to go on is fragments. I need simple connections, some kind of background to the events that later took place. I need to fill in the gaps in these people’s story, including their financial history. I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think… if I didn’t think a crime had been committed. A sordid crime that no one knows about and that… the person in question… seems likely to get away with.’

The bank manager stared at Erlendur for a long time in meaningful silence.

‘Can you call up the bank’s customers on that computer?’ Erlendur asked at last, nodding towards three flat screens on the bank manager’s large desk.

‘Yes.’

‘Are you going to help me?’

‘Erlendur, I… I’m afraid I can’t get involved in this. I can’t do it.’

Their eyes met for a long moment.

‘Can you tell me if the person in question is badly in debt? A simple yes or no?’ Erlendur asked.

The bank manager thought for a moment.

‘I can’t do it, Erlendur. Please don’t ask me.’

‘What about his wife? She’s dead. A query about her account shouldn’t hurt anyone.’

‘Erlendur…’

‘All right. I understand.’

The bank manager was on his feet. He tapped a finger on the desk.

‘Do you have her ID number?’

‘Yes.’

The manager typed in the number, pressed several keys on the keyboard, clicked with the mouse and stared at the screen.

‘She was rolling in it,’ he said.

The old man lay in his hospital bed, apparently asleep. The corridor was quiet after the evening meal. The two men who shared his ward lay in their beds too, taking no notice of Erlendur. One was reading a book, the other was dozing.

Erlendur sat down by the bed and looked at his watch. He had been on his way home when he’d decided to call in. At that moment the old man woke up and saw him.

‘I went to see your son Elmar,’ Erlendur said.

He came straight to the point, unsure how much time he had.

‘Oh?’

The man who had been reading put down his book on the bedside table and turned to face the wall. Erlendur had the feeling that he could hear every word they said. The man dozing in the bed between them now began to snore quietly. Erlendur knew these were not ideal circumstances under which to conduct a police inquiry but there was little that he could do about it, and anyway his visits to the old man hardly deserved to be called an investigation.

‘Their relationship was always okay, wasn’t it?’ Erlendur asked, attempting to sound as if he wasn’t trying to sow unnecessary seeds of suspicion. He thought perhaps he had asked this before.

‘The boys were very different, if that’s what you mean.’