Arnaldur Indriðason - Hypothermia

‘I thought maybe you weren’t coming,’ Erlendur said, rising from the corner where he had been sitting, and stepping into the light.

Baldvin started, almost dropping the machine.

‘Christ, you startled me,’ he gasped, before regaining his composure and trying to put on a show of anger and outrage. ‘What…? What’s this supposed to mean? What are you doing here?’

‘Isn’t it rather a question of what you’re doing here?’ Erlendur asked levelly.

‘I… This is my holiday home… What do you mean, what am I doing here? It’s none of your business. Won’t you… Why are you following me?’

‘I’d begun to think that you weren’t coming,’ Erlendur said. ‘But you couldn’t stand it any longer and were going to dispose of the defibrillator in a safe place. Your conscience was starting to plague you. Perhaps you’re no longer as confident of getting away with it as you were.’

‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. Why won’t you leave me alone?’

‘It’s because of María; she’s haunting me like an old ghost story. There are a number of things concerning her I want to talk to you about, various questions that I know she herself would have wanted to ask you.’

‘What bullshit is this? Did you break the lock on the door?’

‘I did that the other day,’ Erlendur admitted, ‘when I was trying to fill in the gaps.’

‘What rubbish is this?’ Baldvin asked again.

‘I was hoping you’d tell me.’

‘I’m here to tidy up the boathouse,’ Baldvin said.

‘Yes, of course. And there’s another thing. Why were you using water from the lake in your hot tub?’

‘What?’

‘I took a sample from your hot tub, from the waste pipe. The water supply to the cottage and hot tub comes from the wells up the hill. It’s heated by electricity inside the cottage and then pumped into the system. So why should there be fine silt from Lake Thingvallavatn in the waste pipe of your hot tub?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Baldvin said. ‘We sometimes… we used to take a dip in the lake in summer and get in the hot tub afterwards.’

‘Yes, but I’m talking about a much larger volume of water. I think the tub was filled with lake water,’ Erlendur said.

Still holding the defibrillator, Baldvin backed out of the boathouse, obviously with the intention of putting the machine in the back of his car. Erlendur followed him and removed the machine from his grasp. Baldvin did not put up any resistance.

‘I spoke to a doctor,’ Erlendur said. ‘I asked him how someone would go about causing heart failure without anyone noticing. He said you’d need determination and a large amount of cold water. You’re a doctor. Do you agree?’

Baldvin stood by the boot of his car without answering.

‘Wasn’t that the method you used on Tryggvi in the old days?’ Erlendur said. ‘You couldn’t use any drugs on María. Couldn’t risk any trace being found, could you? In case they did a postmortem. The only thing you could use was a tiny dose of sleeping pills to dull the cold.’

Baldvin slammed the boot of the car.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he repeated furiously. ‘And I don’t think you do either. María hanged herself. She didn’t sleep in the hot tub if that’s what you’re imagining. You should be ashamed of yourself!’

‘I know she hanged herself,’ Erlendur said. ‘I want to know exactly why. And just how you and Karólína persuaded her into it.’

Baldvin seemed to be ready to drive away rather than have to listen to Erlendur any longer. Going round to the driver’s door, he opened it and was about to get into the car when he paused and turned to face Erlendur.

‘I’m tired of this,’ he said roughly, slamming the door. ‘Tired of this bloody persecution. What do you want?’

He walked towards Erlendur.

‘It was Tryggvi who gave you the idea, wasn’t it?’ Erlendur said calmly. ‘What I want to know is how you two persuaded María to enter into it.’

Livid with rage, Baldvin glared at Erlendur who stared back.

‘ “You two”?’ Baldvin said. ‘What do you mean, “you two”?’

‘You and Karólína.’

‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘Why should you suddenly be concerned about the defibrillator now?’ Erlendur asked. ‘It’s been sitting here untouched ever since María died. Why is it so important to spirit it away now?’

Baldvin did not answer.

‘Is it because I mentioned it to Karólína? Did you get scared? Did it occur to you that you’d better dispose of it?’

Baldvin continued to stare at him without saying a word.

‘Why don’t we go and sit down in the cottage for a moment?’ Erlendur suggested. ‘Before I call for back-up.’

‘What proof do you have?’ Baldvin asked.

‘All I have is a nasty suspicion. I would really like to have it confirmed.’

‘And what then?’

‘What then? I don’t know. Do you?’

Baldvin was silent.

‘I don’t know if it’s possible to prosecute people for assisting suicide or deliberately pushing someone into taking their own life,’ Erlendur said. ‘Which is what you and Karólína did. Systematically and without hesitation. The money probably came into it. It’s a lot of cash and you’re in dire straits financially. And then there’s Karólína, of course. You’d get everything you wanted if only María would hurry up and die.’

‘What kind of talk is that?’

‘It’s a hard world.’

‘You can’t prove anything,’ Baldvin said. ‘It’s rubbish!’

‘Tell me what happened. When did it start?’

Baldvin still vacillated.

‘Actually, I think I know more or less what happened,’ Erlendur said. ‘If it wasn’t the way I think, then we can discuss that. But you’ll have to talk to me. I’m afraid there’s no alternative.’

Baldvin stood silent and unmoving.

‘When did it start?’ Erlendur repeated, taking out his mobile phone. ‘Either tell me now or else this place will be crawling with police officers before you know it.’

‘María said she wanted to cross over,’ Baldvin said in a low voice.

‘Cross over?’

‘After Leonóra died,’ Baldvin explained. ‘María wanted to cross over the great divide to where she thought she could reach her mother. She asked me to help her. That was all.’

‘The great divide?’

‘Do I have to spell it out?’

‘And what?’

‘Come inside,’ Baldvin said. ‘I’ll tell you about María if you’ll leave us in peace afterwards.’

‘Were you at the cottage when she died?’

‘Relax,’ Baldvin said. ‘I’ll tell you how it was. It’s time you heard. I’m not going to try to deny any responsibility. We weren’t honest with her but I didn’t kill her. I could never have done that. Never. You have to believe that.’

They entered the cottage and sat down in the kitchen. It was cold inside. Baldvin didn’t bother to turn up the radiators; he wasn’t intending to spin this out. He began to tell his story, methodically, point by point, in a clear voice, describing how he met María at university, their cohabitation with Leonóra in Grafarvogur and the last two years of María’s life following the death of her mother. Erlendur thought the story sounded a little rehearsed at times but in other respects Baldvin’s account seemed both plausible and consistent.

Baldvin’s affair with Karólína had been going on for several years. They had briefly gone out together when they’d been at drama school but their relationship had come to nothing. Baldvin married María, Karólína lived either with boyfriends or alone. Her longest relationship lasted four years. Then she and Baldvin met again and revived their old association that María had never known about. They met in secret, not regularly but never less than once a month. Neither wanted to take the affair any further until, shortly before Leonóra was diagnosed with cancer, Karólína began to say that maybe Baldvin should leave María so that they could live together. He wasn’t averse to the idea. Living with his mother-in-law had put a strain on his marriage. Increasingly he had started to point out to María that he had not married her mother and nor did he wish to.