Arnaldur Indridason - Oblivion

‘I wouldn’t say I was obsessed.’

‘Well, you must admit you have an unusual fascination with these tales of ordeals.’

‘What interests me are stories about survivors,’ said Erlendur. ‘People who escape with their lives from dangerous situations in the Icelandic wilderness. How do they cope? Why do some live while others don’t, though the circumstances are similar? Why do some get into trouble and others not? What mistakes do people make? How can you avoid them?’

‘I reckon there’s more to it.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I get the feeling these stories have a personal significance for you.’

‘No, I...’

‘Am I wrong?’

Erlendur stared at Marion, as if unsure whether to speak his mind.

‘I suppose it’s not exactly... not really about the people who get lost or die, but...’

‘What?’

‘... but the people left behind, left to struggle with the questions raised by the events.’

‘You mean you’re interested in those left behind to cope with the grief and loss?’

‘Yes, maybe that’s it,’ said Erlendur. ‘They matter too. “Which am I? The one who lives, or the one who died?” I sometimes wonder.’

‘Are you a fan of Steinn Steinarr?’

‘I think people who experience profound grief feel as if a part of themselves has died, and in my opinion he captures that very well.’

Marion read the letter again, thinking back to this conversation with Erlendur and the quotation from Steinn Steinarr’s poem ‘Time and Water’.

Enclosed in the letter had been a small piece of folded paper which, when opened, turned out to contain a pinch of Katrín’s ashes. Katrín’s mother would not herself have come up with the idea of sending them. She must have done it at Katrín’s behest, as a final farewell between them. Marion could think of nowhere better to scatter the ashes than the pavilion, and holding out the paper, watched the dust gradually disperse in the wind.

Marion refolded the letter from Denmark, put it back in the envelope and pocketed it again, then gazed over to where the ashes had become one with the darkness, reflecting on Steinn Steinarr’s enigma of life and death until the pale blue eyes blurred over with tears.

Two days later Erlendur received an unexpected phone call from Caroline. She asked for Marion first, but to everyone’s surprise Marion had taken sick leave, an almost unheard of event. Learning that Marion wasn’t available, Caroline asked to speak to Erlendur instead. He was taken aback as he’d heard that their meeting had not gone well. He was sitting in his office, going through the old files on the Dagbjört case yet again. He knew he shouldn’t be spending time on this now as the investigation into Kristvin’s death was top priority. But Dagbjört wouldn’t leave him alone, especially since Erlendur had established that the same man was still living next door.

The reason for Caroline’s call was simple. She had managed to track down the woman who had been having an affair with Kristvin.

‘Are you sure?’ asked Erlendur.

‘Of course I’m sure,’ said Caroline impatiently, ‘or I wouldn’t be calling. You two can meet her if you like. She’s prepared to tell you all she knows, on condition we don’t expose her affair, if possible.’

‘That’s her problem, isn’t it?’

‘I didn’t make any promises.’

‘Marion’s not in today,’ said Erlendur. ‘But I could be with you in an hour.’

‘Get moving then,’ said Caroline, and gave him brief directions before saying a brusque goodbye.

Later she explained to Erlendur how, following her meeting with Marion at the bowling alley, she had gone about identifying the woman. It turned out she lived in the enlisted quarters they had visited a few days earlier. She had stayed in Caroline’s mind because of her manner during the original interviews; the unease she had tried to conceal as she stood at the door of her apartment, fielding questions from the Icelandic police about whether she had known Kristvin. The woman had been alone at home and Caroline had felt instinctively that she was hiding something. So she went down to the PX, where the woman worked, struck up conversation with her and asked her in more detail about the grey Toyota Corolla and Kristvin. The woman stuck to her story, expressed surprise at the questions and repeated that she didn’t know the Icelander.

Caroline spoke to her again that evening. The woman insisted she had nothing to say to her, but her nerve went when Caroline threatened to haul her in for questioning on suspicion of being involved in Kristvin’s murder. The woman swore blind she’d had nothing to do with it but in the end reluctantly admitted that Kristvin may not have been a complete stranger to her. She admitted further that she was scared of her husband and didn’t know what he would do if he ever found out she’d been cheating on him, and with an Icelander too, as he had a low opinion of the locals. Caroline asked if there was any chance he might already have heard about her affair and taken action, but the woman said it was out of the question. She and Kristvin had been incredibly careful. She was sure her husband knew nothing about her infidelity.

Caroline had asked Erlendur to meet them both behind the PX, and when he arrived the two women were standing there waiting for him. They climbed into the car and Caroline told him to drive over to the international passenger terminal. He stopped in the car park as if they were ordinary citizens there to pick up friends or relatives from the airport.

Caroline was sitting in the back seat with the woman, Joan, who was plump and blonde with a good-natured expression. She explained that in the evenings she sometimes filled in for her friend who was a cocktail waitress at the Animal Locker, the enlisted club, also known as the Zoo. That’s where she had met Kristvin the first time. He had been in with a couple of friends, also flight mechanics, she thought, and the two of them had got talking at the bar. He had told her he loved the States, he had trained there and wouldn’t mind living there one day. With his qualifications he could work anywhere in the world and reckoned he would have no problem finding a job in the Promised Land. He had been offered positions by some major airlines when he’d finished his training and had big plans for the future. It was clear he’d been showing off, flirting with the cocktail waitress at the Animal Locker.

‘So did you two start meeting up after that?’ asked Caroline.

‘You promised this wouldn’t go any further,’ said Joan with a slightly sing-song drawl that Erlendur associated with the Deep South. She’d been smoking when she got into the car and was already lighting the next cigarette.

‘We’ll have to see about that.’

‘No, you promised.’

‘You know I can’t promise something like that,’ said Caroline. ‘I’m not sure you appreciate the extreme seriousness of this—’

‘You promised—’

‘I didn’t promise anything. Let’s hear what you have to say, then we’ll have a better idea of the situation. I’m sure the Icelandic police are very grateful for your cooperation,’ she added, catching Erlendur’s eye.

He nodded.

‘What happened after you met at the Animal Locker?’ he asked.

‘He didn’t know I was married,’ said Joan. ‘I didn’t tell him. Not right away. We met about three times. Once at the hotel near here, in the town whose name I can never remember.’

‘Keflavík?’

‘That’s the one. Then twice at my apartment when Earl flew to Greenland. Earl’s my husband,’ she explained to Erlendur.

‘This wasn’t the first time you’d cheated on your husband, was it?’ said Caroline bluntly.