Hypothermia - Страница 38

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‘Did you ever meet Leonóra or María again after that?’

‘No. Never. Neither of them.’

‘Were there no witnesses?’

‘No. They were completely alone at the lake.’

‘No visitors?’

‘No.’

‘Or tourists?’

‘No. No tourists. That was the week before, when Magnús and I were alone at the holiday cottage. We used it twice, as far as I can remember, to meet in secret. That time he bumped into a woman and told me about her afterwards because she was studying the lakes around the city; she was fascinated by lakes. This was right by the cottage. She was looking at a map and was on her way up to Lake Sandkluftavatn. It stuck in my mind because I’d never heard the name before.’

‘Was she in a car?’ Erlendur asked.

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘What kind of car?’

‘It was yellow.’

‘Yellow? Are you sure?’

‘Yes. They’re called Mini-somethings, aren’t they? I saw it driving away through the birch scrub.’

‘And you think the person driving this car was the woman that Magnús had met?’ Erlendur asked, on the edge of his seat now.

‘I think so. It was right by the cottage.’

‘A Mini? Do you mean an Austin Mini?’

‘Yes, that’s it, isn’t it? Tiny little cars.’

‘A yellow Austin Mini?’

‘Yes. Why?’

Erlendur was on his feet.

‘On its way to Sandkluftavatn?’

‘Yes. Goodness, what’s the matter?’

‘Was there anyone with her?’

‘I don’t know. What’s the matter? What have I said?’

‘Could there have been a young man with her?’

‘I don’t know. Who are these people? Do you know them? Do you know who these people are?’

‘No,’ Erlendur said. ‘Possibly. No, hardly. Did you say Lake Sandkluftavatn?’

‘Yes, Sandkluftavatn.’

30

What did he know about Lake Sandkluftavatn? He had driven past it with Eva Lind without paying it any particular attention. It was about an hour’s drive from Reykjavík, beside the road just north of Thingvellir, between the mountains Ármannsfell and Lágafell, before the ascent to Bláskógaheidi Moor. It was overlooked by the unmistakable bulk of Mount Skjaldbreidur to the north-east.

The diver, whose name was Thorbergur, was familiar with the lakes of south-west Iceland, having explored many of them. He had once worked for the fire brigade and had assisted the police with smuggling cases, as well as diving from the country’s docks in search of missing people. He had been available when a person was reported missing and search parties were organised to comb the beaches and drag the sea and lakes. But eventually he retired from diving for a living and became a mechanic instead, starting up his own garage, which was now his main occupation. Erlendur had sometimes taken the Ford to him for servicing. Thorbergur was six foot five and had always reminded Erlendur of a giant, with his red hair and beard, long swimmer’s arms and strong teeth that often used to gleam through his beard as he was a humorous man and was quick to smile.

‘You have divers working for you,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you go to one of them? I’ve given up. You know that.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Erlendur said. ‘I just thought of talking to you because… you still have the equipment, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And the inflatable?’

‘Yes. The little one.’

‘And you still go diving sometimes, even though you’ve stopped working for us?’

‘Very occasionally.’

‘This is not, how shall I put it, an official investigation,’ Erlendur explained. ‘More like a spot of private dabbling. I’d pay you out of my own pocket if you could be bothered to do this.’

‘Erlendur, I can’t go taking your money.’

Thorbergur sighed. Erlendur knew why he had stopped working for the police. The final straw had come one day when he had dived for the body of a woman who’d been found in Reykjavík harbour. She had been missing for three weeks and her body was badly decomposed when Thorbergur found it. He didn’t want to run the risk of seeing such horrors again. He didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night gasping because the woman, or some nightmarish figure like her, wouldn’t stop invading his dreams.

‘It’s an old missing-person case,’ Erlendur said. ‘From way back. Involving youngsters. Possibly two of them. There was a breakthrough yesterday after decades of impasse. Admittedly, it’s based on very slight evidence but I felt I should at least talk to you. For the sake of my conscience.’

‘In other words, you want to shift the guilt on to me,’ Thorbergur said.

‘I couldn’t think of anyone else. I don’t know any better man for the job.’

‘You know I’ve quit, like I just told you. The only thing I investigate now is engines.’

‘I understand perfectly,’ Erlendur said. ‘I would have quit myself if I was trained for anything else.’

‘What was the breakthrough?’ Thorbergur asked.

‘In the case?’

‘Yes.’

‘We’ve always treated it as two unrelated missing-person cases but there’s a possibility that they were together when they disappeared: a boy in his last year of sixth-form college and a girl, slightly older, who was studying biology at the university. There’s really nothing to link them but we haven’t had any luck finding them separately either. The case had gone completely cold until recently and had been that way for decades. Then yesterday I learnt that the girl, whose name was Gudrún or Dúna, might have been seen at Thingvellir on her way to Lake Sandkluftavatn. I checked the dates this morning. Of course they don’t tally. The girl might have been spotted at Thingvellir in late autumn. She was probably alone that time. The young couple didn’t vanish until several months later. The boy’s disappearance was reported at the end of February 1976. The report about the girl’s disappearance reached us in the middle of March that year. Since then nothing has been heard of either of them, which is unusual in itself; that two incidents occurring a short time apart should leave absolutely no trace. Generally there’s a trail somewhere. But there was none to be found in either of these cases.’

‘It’s unusual for kids in their twenties to get together with teenagers,’ Thorbergur commented. ‘Especially when the girl’s older.’

Erlendur nodded. He could tell that the diver was becoming interested in spite of himself.

‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘There was nothing to link them.’

They were sitting in Thorbergur’s office at the garage. Three other employees were hard at work repairing cars and occasionally darted glances into the office. It was little more than a glass cage and was easily visible from the workshop floor. The phone rang at regular intervals, interrupting their conversation, but Erlendur didn’t let this put him off his stride.

‘I checked the weather that day too,’ he said. ‘It was unusually cold. Most lakes would have iced over.’

‘I can tell that you’ve already formed a theory.’

‘I have, but it’s incredibly tenuous.’

‘Is no one allowed to know about this?’

‘There’s no point complicating matters,’ Erlendur said. ‘If you find something, give me a call. If not, the case is as dead as ever.’

‘I’ve never actually dived in Sandkluftavatn,’ Thorbergur said. ‘It’s too shallow in summer and doesn’t get much deeper, except in the spring thaw. There are other lakes out there. Litla-Brunnavatn, Reydarvatn, Uxavatn.’

‘Sure.’

‘What were their names? The couple?’

‘Davíd and Gudrún. Or Dúna.’

Thorbergur looked out at the workshop floor. A new customer had arrived and was looking in their direction. He was a regular and Thorbergur nodded to him.

‘Would you be prepared to do this for me?’ Erlendur asked, standing up. ‘I’m rather up against it, timewise. There’s an old man lying at death’s door who’s been waiting for an answer ever since his boy disappeared. It would be good to be able to bring him news of his son before he goes. I know the chances are pretty slim but it’s the only thing I’ve got to go on and I want to give it a stab.’

Thorbergur stared at him.

‘Hang on – are you expecting me to drop everything and go this minute?’

‘Well, maybe not before lunch.’

‘Today?’

‘I… just whenever you can. Do you think you could do this for me?’

‘Do I have any choice?’

‘Thank you,’ Erlendur said. ‘Call me.’

Erlendur had some difficulty locating the holiday cottage and drove past the turning twice before finally catching sight of the sign, which had almost been obscured by low-growing scrub: ‘Sólvangur’. He took the turning, drove down to the lake and parked by the cottage.

This time he knew what he was looking for. He was alone and had told nobody what he was doing. He wouldn’t do so until the case was solved, if it ever was. It was still too vague; he still lacked evidence; he himself was still unsure whether he was doing the right thing.

He had talked to the police pathologist who’d performed the post-mortem on María and had asked if she had taken any sleeping pills shortly before the time of her death. The pathologist said he had found a small amount of a sleeping drug but nowhere near enough to explain her death. Erlendur asked if it was possible to calculate how long before her death María had taken the drug but the answer he received was inconclusive. Possibly the same day.

‘Do you think a crime’s been committed?’ the pathologist asked.

‘Not really,’ Erlendur said.

‘Not really?’