Arnaldur Indriðason: Hypothermia

‘And you say that you don’t know a medium who goes by the name of Magdalena?’

‘No.’

‘The same name as the character you played on stage?’

‘No, I don’t know any Magdalena.’

‘I had my people check up on it,’ Erlendur said. ‘There is no medium with that name in the whole Reykjavík area.’

‘Why don’t you just say what you’re going to say?’

Erlendur smiled.

‘Maybe I should.’

‘Please do.’

‘I’ll tell you what I think happened,’ Erlendur said. ‘I think you and Baldvin pushed María into suicide.’

‘Oh?’

‘She was in a terrible state after her mother died. María had watched Leonóra fighting the cancer for two years, watched her endure dreadful pain and suffering before the end. She started imagining all sorts of things and began looking for signs that her mother had intended to give her as proof that she was safe or that there was some kind of life after this one that might even be better than this vale of tears. It didn’t take much to push María over the edge. She was absolutely terrified of the dark – in fact, she was a bundle of nerves after her mother died, desperate for reassurance that Leonóra was feeling better in some better world. She might have been an academic but this was not a question of rationalism, rather it was one of deeply rooted faith and hope and love. She started imagining all kinds of things. Leonóra appeared to her at their house in Grafarvogur. María turned to psychics. I expect you had some part in that? In tipping her over the edge?’

‘What do you mean? Have you any proof?’

‘None,’ Erlendur said. ‘You both planned it well.’

‘Why on earth should we have done something like that?’

‘There’s a lot of money at stake. Baldvin is seriously in debt and is hardly the type to pay it off, despite the fact that as a doctor he’s on a decent salary. You two get rid of María and live in the lap of luxury for the rest of your lives. I know of murders that have been committed for much lower sums.’

‘You’re calling it murder?’

‘I don’t know what else to call it. When one thinks about it. Are you Magdalena?’

Karólína gave Erlendur a long look, her expression very sober.

‘I think you should go now,’ she said finally.

‘Did you tell María something that might have triggered the events that ended in her suicide?’

‘I have nothing more to say.’

‘Did you play some part in María’s death?’

Karólína was on her feet. She walked into the hall and opened the front door.

‘Get out,’ she said.

Erlendur had also risen to his feet and followed her out.

‘Would you admit that you played even the tiniest role in what happened to María?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Karólína said. ‘She was unhappy. She committed suicide. Will you please leave now?’

‘Has Baldvin ever told you about an experiment that he performed when he was a medical student at university? He was involved in causing a young man to die and then bringing him back to life. Did you know about that?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I think it was the tipping point,’ Erlendur said.

‘What?’

‘Ask Baldvin. Ask him if he knows a man called Tryggvi. If he has any contact with him today. You ask him that.’

‘Will you get out now?’ Karólína said.

Erlendur stood in the doorway, refusing to give up. Karólína was crimson in the face.

‘I think I know what happened at the holiday cottage,’ he said. ‘And it’s not a pretty story.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Karólína pushed him out of the door but Erlendur still refused to give up.

‘Tell Baldvin I know about the defibrillator,’ he said as the door slammed shut.

Erlendur sat waiting in the dark, in a state of uncertainty.

He had woken late that morning. Eva Lind had dropped by on the previous evening and they had talked about Valgerdur. He knew that Eva wasn’t very keen on her and that if she saw Valgerdur’s car parked in front of his block she would sometimes wait for Erlendur’s girlfriend to leave before knocking on his door.

‘Why can’t you just be nice to her?’ Erlendur asked his daughter. ‘She’s forever taking your side when we talk about you. You could be good friends if you’d only let yourself get to know her.’

‘I’m not interested,’ Eva Lind said. ‘I’m not interested in the women in your life.’

‘Women? There are no women. There’s Valgerdur and that’s it. There never have been any women.’

‘Relax,’ Eva Lind said. ‘Got any coffee?’

‘What do you want?’

‘Oh, you know, I was just bored.’

Erlendur sat down in his chair. Eva Lind was lying on the sofa opposite him.

‘Are you planning to sleep here?’ Erlendur asked, looking at the clock. It was well past midnight.

‘I dunno,’ Eva Lind said. ‘Would you mind reading me the chapter about your brother again?’

Erlendur looked at his daughter for a long time before getting up and going over to the bookcase. He took out the book containing the account and, taking his seat again, began to read about the incident and his father’s ineffectiveness and how he himself was described as gloomy and withdrawn and how he had searched for his brother’s remains. He glanced over at his daughter when he had finished reading. He thought she had fallen asleep. Putting down the book on a small table beside the sofa, he sat with his hands in his lap, thinking how angry his mother had been with the man who wrote the account. A long time passed, until Eva Lind eventually sighed.

‘You’ve been trying to keep him alive ever since,’ she said.

‘I don’t know if…’

‘Isn’t it time to let him die?’

Eva Lind opened her eyes and, turning her head, fixed her father with her stare.

‘Isn’t it time you let him die?’ she asked again.

Erlendur still did not answer.

‘Why are you interfering in this?’ he asked at last.

‘Because you’re unhappy, probably even unhappier than me sometimes,’ Eva Lind answered.

‘I don’t know if it’s anything to do with you,’ Erlendur said. ‘It’s my business. I do what I have to.’

‘Then go out east or wherever it is you were born. Go out there and do what you have to do. Get rid of him and free yourself. You owe it to yourself after all these years. And him too. Let him die. You owe it to yourself and to him. You have to free yourself from him. You have to free yourself from this ghost.’

‘Why are you interfering in this?’ he repeated.

‘Says you who can never leave anyone alone.’

They were both silent for a while until Eva Lind asked if she could sleep on the sofa since she couldn’t be bothered to go home.

‘Be my guest,’ Erlendur said. ‘Sleep here.’

He stood up to get ready for bed.

‘If I ever needed to, I did it ages ago,’ Eva Lind said, turning her face into the corner of the sofa.

‘Needed to what?’

‘Forgive you,’ she said.

Erlendur was startled out of his reverie by the sound of a car stopping in the drive. A door opened and he heard footsteps on the gravel outside, coming in the direction of the boat shed. Daylight shone in through two little windows, one on each side, illuminating the dust motes in the air. Outside he could see the sunlight gleaming on Lake Thingvallavatn, which was as smooth as a mirror in the still autumn weather. The door opened and Baldvin stepped inside, closing it behind him. There was a slight pause before the light came on overhead. Baldvin didn’t notice him at first and Erlendur saw him search for something, then bend down and straighten up again with the defibrillator in his arms.