“They’ve always got on well together.”

“I understand Sunee’s your second wife from Thailand.”

“Yes,” Odinn said.

“I also understand you were not very pleased when Sunee told you she had an older son and wanted to send for him,” Erlendur said.

“I suspected as much,” Odinn said. “It was nothing new. She’d told me she was single, then she wanted to bring Niran over.”

“What did you think about that?”

“I wasn’t pleased about having the boy. But I stayed out of the matter, left it entirely up to her. I had no say in it.”

“So you didn’t want to divorce her immediately then?”

“Sunee was okay,” Odinn said.

“She hasn’t learned much Icelandic in the time she’s lived here,” Erlendur said.

“No,” Odinn said.

“Did you help her with it at all?”

“What are you asking about that for? What’s that got to do with anything? Shouldn’t you be catching the person who did this instead of asking me stupid irrelevant questions? What kind of questions are these anyway?”

“Your son was probably attacked in the afternoon,” Erlendur said. “Where were you then?”

“At work,” Odinn said. “I was at work when you lot came. Do you think I killed my son? Are you mad?”

He said this without raising his voice and without becoming worked up, as if the notion were simply too ludicrous to get angry about.

“We know from experience that such matters are often family-related,” Erlendur said without changing his expression. “There’s nothing unnatural about me asking where you spent the day.”

Odinn remained silent.

“Is there anyone at work who could confirm your whereabouts?”

“Yes, a couple of blokes. I can’t believe you think I’m implicated in this!”

“It’s part of the job,” Erlendur said. A lot of what I get involved with is more far-fetched than that.”

Are you telling me that I attacked the boy to get my own back on Sunee?”

Erlendur shrugged.

Are you out of your mind?”

“Stay where you are,” Erlendur said when Odinn rose to his feet. “What we need to do is to examine all the possibilities. Why should you want to get your own back on Sunee?”

“What do you mean? I don’t want to get my own back on her!”

“I didn’t mention any reason,” Erlendur said. “You yourself did. Those were your own words.”

“I didn’t say a thing.”

Erlendur sat in silence.

“You’re confusing me,” Odinn said, agitated by now. “You’re trying to make me say something I shouldn’t. You’re playing with me!”

“It was what you said.”

“Fucking hell!” Odinn shouted, kicking the desk. Erlendur sat in his chair and looked up at him without moving. He leaned back, arms folded over his chest. The man looked as if he was about to attack him.

“I would never do anything to my son!” he yelled. “Never!”

Erlendur remained unruffled.

“Have you talked to her boyfriend?” Odinn asked.

“Her boyfriend?”

“Hasn’t she told you about him?”

“Who is he? Who is Sunee’s boyfriend?”

Odinn did not reply. He stared at Erlendur, who was leaning forward in his chair.

“Is he the reason you got divorced?” Erlendur asked cautiously.

“No. I only heard recently.”

“What?”

“That she was seeing someone.”

7

Elinborg was standing in the home of one of Elias’s classmates. She had not been offered a seat. They were in the kitchen and the boy’s father was sitting beside him. His sister and younger brother were also sitting at the table. It was a small town house not far from the block of flats where Elias and Niran lived. Elinborg had disturbed them at dinnertime. Other police officers were simultaneously in the same position, visiting the homes of children who might conceivably be linked to Elias.

She apologised repeatedly. The boy’s mother said she had seen the television news and was shocked to hear about it. The father showed no particular reaction. Neither did the children.

Elinborg looked at their food: spaghetti with mince. The smell of frying filled the house, mingled with basil and boiled tomato. Her thoughts flew home. She had not managed to shop for days and there was nothing in the refrigerator.

“He came here for Biggi’s birthday party,” the mother said, also standing beside the table. “We wanted to invite the whole class. I thought he was a particularly delightful boy. I just can’t understand what could have happened. They said he’d been stabbed. As if anyone could have wanted to harm him. They implied he’d been attacked, like it was premeditated. Is that true?”

“We have no idea,” Elinborg said. “The investigation is just beginning. I haven’t seen the news but I doubt the reporters got that information from the police. We know very little at the moment. That’s why I’d like to have a little chat with you, Biggi,” she said, addressing her words to the boy.

Biggi looked at her, wide-eyed.

“You were his friend, weren’t you?” Elinborg said.

“Not really,” Biggi said. “He was in my class but—”

“Biggi doesn’t know him very well,” his mother interrupted with an embarrassed smile.

“No, I see,” Elinborg said.

The father sat in silence at the kitchen table. The food was on his plate but he had no intention of eating it in front of a police officer. All three children were tucking into their spaghetti. When Elinborg had rung the doorbell, the mother had answered and hesitantly let her in. Elinborg had a strong sense that she was disturbing the peace of their home.

“Do you sometimes play with him?” Elinborg asked.

“I don’t think Biggi plays with him much,” the father said.

The man was slim and drawn-looking, with bags under his eyes and several days” worth of stubble. He was wearing blue overalls, which he had unbuttoned to the waist when he sat down at the table. His hands were worn from manual labour. His face and hair were covered in a grey substance that Elinborg thought might be cement dust. Instinctively she assumed that he was a plasterer.

“I wanted to-‘ Elinborg said.

“I’d like some peace to eat with my family,” the man said. “If you don’t mind.”

“I know,” Elinborg said, “and my apologies once again for disturbing you. I just wanted to ask Biggi a few questions because we need to gather information as quickly as possible. It won’t take a moment.”

“You can do that later,” the man said.

He stared at Elinborg. His wife stood beside the table and said nothing. The children wolfed down their food. Biggi looked at Elinborg as he sucked up a piece of spaghetti. He had tomato sauce all round his mouth.

“Do you know whether Elias was on his own when he went home from school today?” Elinborg asked.

Biggi shook his head, his mouth full of spaghetti.

The man looked at his wife.

“I don’t think that has anything to do with Biggi,” he said.

“He was really sweet, that boy, polite and well brought-up,” the woman said. “He was the only one who thanked us for inviting him to the birthday party and he wasn’t noisy like the other kids.”

As she said this she looked at her husband, as if justifying having invited Elias to their son’s birthday party. Elinborg looked at the parents in turn and then at the children, who had stopped eating and were watching the adults apprehensively. They sensed that an argument was brewing.

“When was this birthday party?” Elinborg asked, looking at the mother.

“Three weeks ago.”

“Around Christmas? And everything went well?”

“Yes, very well. Don’t you think so, Biggi?” she asked with a glance at her son. She avoided looking at her husband.

Biggi nodded. He looked at his father, uncertain whether he ought to say what he wanted to say.

“Will you please leave us in peace now?” the man said, standing up. “We’d like to eat.”

“Did you see Elias when he came to the birthday party?”