Coffee and sugar were mentioned on the invoices, with figures beside them.
Nothing about work on a chalet far outside Reykjavik where the city's Millennium Quarter was now being built.
Eventually the urge for a cigarette got the better of Erlendur and he found a door in the cellar that opened onto a beautifully kept garden. The flowers were just beginning to bud after the winter, although Erlendur paid no particular attention to that as he stood hungrily smoking. He quickly finished two cigarettes. The mobile rang in his jacket pocket when he was about to go back to the cellar. It was Elínborg.
"How's Eva Lind doing?" she asked.
"Still unconscious," Erlendur said curtly. Did not want any small talk. "Any developments?" he asked.
"I talked to that old chap, Róbert. He owned a chalet up by the hill. I'm not quite sure what he was going on about, but he remembered someone roaming around in your bushes."
"Bushes?"
"By the bones."
"The redcurrant bushes? Who was it?"
"And then I think he died."
Erlendur heard Sigurdur Óli giggle in the background.
"The person in the bushes?"
"No, Róbert," Elínborg said. "So we won't be getting anything more out of him."
"And who was it? In the bushes?"
"It's all very unclear," Elínborg said. "There was someone who often used to go there later. That was really all I got out of him. Then he started to say something. Said 'green lady' and then it was all over."
"Green lady?"
"Yes. Green."
"Often and later and green," Erlendur repeated. "Later than what? What did he mean?"
"As I said, it was very disjointed. I think it might have been . . . I think she was . . ." Elínborg hesitated.
"Was what?" Erlendur asked.
"Crooked."
"Crooked?"
"That was the only description he gave of the person. He'd lost the power of speech and he wrote down that one word, 'crooked'. Then he fell asleep and I think something happened to him because the medical team rushed in to him and . . ."
Elínborg's voice faded out. Erlendur mulled over her words for a while.
"So it looks like a lady often used to go to the redcurrant bushes some time later."
"Perhaps after the war," Elínborg said.
"Did he remember anyone living in the house?"
"A family," Elínborg said. "A couple with three children. I couldn't get any more out of him about that."
"So people did live around there, by the bushes?"
"It looks that way."
"And she was crooked. What's being crooked? How old is Róbert?"
"He's . . . or was . . . I don't know . . . past 90."
"Impossible to tell what he means by that word," Erlendur said as if to himself. "A crooked woman in the redcurrant bushes. Does anyone live in Róbert's chalet? Is it still standing?"
Elínborg told him that she and Sigurdur Óli had talked to the present owners earlier that day, but there had been no mention of any woman. Erlendur told them to go back and ask the owners directly whether any people, specifically a woman, had ever been seen around the area of the redcurrant bushes. Also to try to locate any relatives that Róbert may have had to find out whether he'd ever talked about the family on the hill. Erlendur said he would spend a little more time rummaging around in the cellar before going to the hospital to visit his daughter.
He returned to browsing through Benjamín's things, wondering as he looked around the cellar if it would not take several days to plough through all the junk in there. He squeezed his way back to Benjamín's desk which as far as he could tell contained only documents and invoices connected with his shop. Erlendur did not remember it, but it was apparently on Hverfisgata.
Two hours later, after drinking coffee with Elsa and smoking a further two cigarettes in the back garden, he reached the grey painted chest on the floor. It was locked but had the key in it. Erlendur had to strain to turn it and open the chest. Inside were more documents and envelopes tied up with an elastic band, but no invoices. A few photographs were mixed in with the letters, some framed and others
Nothing about work on a chalet far outside Reykjavik where the city's Millennium Quarter was now being built.
Eventually the urge for a cigarette got the better of Erlendur and he found a door in the cellar that opened onto a beautifully kept garden. The flowers were just beginning to bud after the winter, although Erlendur paid no particular attention to that as he stood hungrily smoking. He quickly finished two cigarettes. The mobile rang in his jacket pocket when he was about to go back to the cellar. It was Elínborg.
"How's Eva Lind doing?" she asked.
"Still unconscious," Erlendur said curtly. Did not want any small talk. "Any developments?" he asked.
"I talked to that old chap, Róbert. He owned a chalet up by the hill. I'm not quite sure what he was going on about, but he remembered someone roaming around in your bushes."
"Bushes?"
"By the bones."
"The redcurrant bushes? Who was it?"
"And then I think he died."
Erlendur heard Sigurdur Óli giggle in the background.
"The person in the bushes?"
"No, Róbert," Elínborg said. "So we won't be getting anything more out of him."
"And who was it? In the bushes?"
"It's all very unclear," Elínborg said. "There was someone who often used to go there later. That was really all I got out of him. Then he started to say something. Said 'green lady' and then it was all over."
"Green lady?"
"Yes. Green."
"Often and later and green," Erlendur repeated. "Later than what? What did he mean?"
"As I said, it was very disjointed. I think it might have been . . . I think she was . . ." Elínborg hesitated.
"Was what?" Erlendur asked.
"Crooked."
"Crooked?"
"That was the only description he gave of the person. He'd lost the power of speech and he wrote down that one word, 'crooked'. Then he fell asleep and I think something happened to him because the medical team rushed in to him and . . ."
Elínborg's voice faded out. Erlendur mulled over her words for a while.
"So it looks like a lady often used to go to the redcurrant bushes some time later."
"Perhaps after the war," Elínborg said.
"Did he remember anyone living in the house?"
"A family," Elínborg said. "A couple with three children. I couldn't get any more out of him about that."
"So people did live around there, by the bushes?"
"It looks that way."
"And she was crooked. What's being crooked? How old is Róbert?"
"He's . . . or was . . . I don't know . . . past 90."
"Impossible to tell what he means by that word," Erlendur said as if to himself. "A crooked woman in the redcurrant bushes. Does anyone live in Róbert's chalet? Is it still standing?"
Elínborg told him that she and Sigurdur Óli had talked to the present owners earlier that day, but there had been no mention of any woman. Erlendur told them to go back and ask the owners directly whether any people, specifically a woman, had ever been seen around the area of the redcurrant bushes. Also to try to locate any relatives that Róbert may have had to find out whether he'd ever talked about the family on the hill. Erlendur said he would spend a little more time rummaging around in the cellar before going to the hospital to visit his daughter.
He returned to browsing through Benjamín's things, wondering as he looked around the cellar if it would not take several days to plough through all the junk in there. He squeezed his way back to Benjamín's desk which as far as he could tell contained only documents and invoices connected with his shop. Erlendur did not remember it, but it was apparently on Hverfisgata.
Two hours later, after drinking coffee with Elsa and smoking a further two cigarettes in the back garden, he reached the grey painted chest on the floor. It was locked but had the key in it. Erlendur had to strain to turn it and open the chest. Inside were more documents and envelopes tied up with an elastic band, but no invoices. A few photographs were mixed in with the letters, some framed and others
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