Erlendur was not aware of any claims to the body. Marion had once asked him to handle the funeral arrangements. He had discussed the next steps with a nurse.

On his way home from the hospital Erlendur had called on Sunee. Her brother was with her, and the interpreter Gudny, who was leaving when Erlendur arrived. He accepted her offer to stay.

“Is it anything special?” Gudny asked. “Any news?”

“No, not yet,” Erlendur said, and Gudny conveyed the fact to Sunee.

“Does she want to tell me where Niran is?” he asked.

Gudny spoke to Sunee who shook her head, staring obstinately at Erlendur.

“She thinks he’s better off where he is. She wants to know when she can have Elias’s body.”

“Very soon,” Erlendur said. “This case is top priority and his earthly remains will only be kept while the investigation is on-going.”

Erlendur sat in an armchair beneath the yellow dragon. The atmosphere in the flat was calmer than before. The brother and sister sat side by side on the sofa. They both smoked. Erlendur had not seen Sunee smoke before. She did not look well, with bags under her eyes, at once grief-stricken and anxious.

“How have you liked living in this neighbourhood?” Erlendur asked.

“It’s a good place to live,” Sunee said through Gudny. “It’s a very quiet area.”

“Have you got to know your neighbours, in the other flats?”

“A little.”

“Have you run into trouble with anyone because you’re from Thailand? Been aware of any racial prejudice or hostility?”

“A tiny bit if I go out to a bar.”

“What about your boys?”

“Elias never complained. But there was one teacher he didn’t like.”

“Kjartan?”

“Yes.”

“Why not?”

“He liked school but didn’t like the Icelandic lessons when Kjartan taught him.”

And what about Niran?”

“He wants to go home.”

“Home to Thailand?”

“Yes. I want him with me. It was difficult for him to come here but I want him with me.”

“Odinn wasn’t pleased to find out about Niran so long after you had got married.”

“No.”

“Was that the reason for your divorce?”

Sunee listened to Gudny translate the question. Then she looked at Erlendur.

“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe that was one reason. They never got on together.”

“I’d like to find out about your boyfriend,” Erlendur said. “What can you tell me about him? Did he come between you and Odinn?”

“No,” Sunee said. “It was all over between Odinn and me when he entered the picture.”

“Who is he?”

“He’s my good friend.”

“Why won’t you tell us anything about him?”

Sunee did not reply.

“Is it because he doesn’t want you to?”

Sunee said nothing.

“Is he shy about this relationship in some way?”

Sunee looked at him. She seemed poised to answer him, then stopped.

“Is Niran with him?”

“Don’t ask about him,” she said. “He’s got nothing to do with this.”

“It’s important for us to talk to Niran,” Erlendur said. “Not because we think he did anything wrong, but because he might know something useful to us. Will you think about it until tomorrow?”

Gudny passed on this request but Sunee did not reply.

“Do you ever miss Thailand?” Erlendur asked.

“I’ve been there twice since Elias was born,” Sunee said. “My family will come over for the funeral. It will be nice to see them again but I don’t miss Thailand.”

“Are you going to have Elias buried here?”

“Of course.”

Sunee went quiet.

“I just want to live here in peace,” she said after a long pause. “I came here in hope of a better life. I thought I’d found it. I knew nothing about Iceland before I came here. I didn’t even know it existed. It was the country of my dreams. Then this happens, this horrible thing. Maybe I will go back. Niran and I. Maybe we don’t belong here.”

“We’ve heard from a very unreliable source, so we’re not attaching much importance to it, that Niran goes around with boys who are involved with drugs.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Do you know what a debt collector is?”

Sunee nodded.

“Has Niran been in any trouble with them?”

“No,” Gudny said after Sunee had spoken. “Niran never goes near drugs. Whoever said that is lying.”

Erlendur switched off the car engine outside the block of flats where he lived and stepped out into the chill winter. He pulled his overcoat tightly around him and walked slowly over to the block. Inside the dark flat, he turned on a lamp. Now there was no moon riding past the window, the sky was overcast and the wind howled past the walls of the building.

He did not know how long he had been sitting thinking about Marion when he heard a tap at his door. He thought he had fallen asleep, but could not be sure. He stood up and opened the door. A figure stepped quietly out of the shadowy corridor and greeted him. It was Eva Lind.

Erlendur was flustered. He had not seen his daughter for quite some time. Their relationship had been at rock bottom for so long that he had actually expected never to see her again. He had decided to stop running after her, to stop rescuing her from drug dens; to stop involving himself if she was named in police reports; to stop trying to make her stay with him, and looking after her; to stop trying to send her away to detox. None of this had changed anything, except for the worse. The more they saw of each other, the worse they got on together. Eva Lind had sunk into depression after a miscarriage and he was helpless to act. All his efforts had the opposite effect on her and she accused him of interfering and being overbearing. His last attempt had been to persuade her to enter rehab for alcohol and drug addiction. When that did not work he gave up. He was familiar with instances of this from his work. In the end, many parents gave up on children who were taking drugs and sinking deeper and deeper without seeing sense or showing the slightest willingness to cooperate.

He had decided to leave her to her own devices, and the feeling was mutual. He realised that he was rarely dealing with his daughter herself. He hardly knew her. What he was continuously wrestling with was the poison that turned her into a different person. It was a hopeless battle. The poison was not Eva Lind. He knew this even though she had never stooped so low as to use it as an excuse for anything. The poison was one thing. Eva Lind was another. Generally it was hard to distinguish between the two, but it could be done. And while this was no consolation as such, he was aware of the fact.

“Can I come in?” Eva Lind asked.

He was more pleased to see her than he would ever have admitted. She was no longer wearing her ugly black leather jacket but a long red coat. Her hair was clean and tied up in a ponytail, her make-up was moderate and he could not see any piercings in her face. Instead of black lipstick, she wore none. She was dressed in a thick green sweater against the cold, jeans and black, almost knee-length, leather boots.

“Of course,” he said, opening the door for her.

“It’s always so horribly dark in here,” she said, walking into the living room. He closed the door and followed her. Pushing a pile of newspapers aside on the sofa, she sat down, took out a pack of cigarettes and thrust it at him with a questioning look. He made a gesture to say that she was free to smoke in his flat but declined the offer himself.

“So, what’s new?” he asked and sat down in his armchair. It was as if nothing had changed, as if she had simply left him the day before yesterday and just happened to be passing by again.

“Same old,” Eva said in English.

“Isn’t Icelandic good enough for you then?” he asked.

“You never change, do you?” Eva looked around the bookshelves and stacks of books, and into the kitchen where there were two stools at the table, a saucepan on the cooker and a coffee maker.