Hypothermia

by Arnaldur Indridason

  ‘So you do know what I’m referring to?’

  ‘It was a stupid experiment. It wasn’t meant to prove anything.’

  ‘But Tryggvi died briefly?’

  ‘I don’t even know. I left the room. Sigvaldi had wangled some ward at the hospital and we went over there. That guy Tryggvi was a bit of a weirdo. Sigvaldi was always making fun of him, long before this happened. I’d just started medicine. Sigvaldi was very bright but a bit wild. It was his responsibility, his alone. Well, and maybe Dagmar’s. Most of the time I wasn’t even in on what they were planning.’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to them yet but I intend to,’ Erlendur said. ‘How did Sigvaldi go about stopping Tryggvi’s heart?’

  ‘He lowered his body temperature and gave him some drug. I don’t remember what it’s called, or if it’s still on the market. The drug caused his heart to slow down gradually until it stopped. Sigvaldi timed the cardiac arrest and after a minute he used the defibrillator. It worked immediately. His heart started beating again.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘What did Tryggvi say?’

  ‘Nothing. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t feel anything, didn’t feel any pain. He described it as being like a deep sleep. I don’t know why you’re digging this up. How far back are you looking? Why are you investigating me and my life so thoroughly? Just what do you think I’ve done? Is it normal for the police to investigate suicide in this way? Are you persecuting me?’

  ‘Just one more thing,’ Erlendur said, without answering. ‘Then I’ll be on my way.’

  ‘Has this become an official inquiry?’

  ‘No,’ Erlendur said.

  ‘What, then? Do I actually need to answer these questions?’

  ‘Not really. I’m only trying to find out what happened when María took her life. Whether anything unnatural occurred.’

  ‘Unnatural? Isn’t suicide unnatural enough for you? What do you want from me?’

  ‘María went to see a medium before she died. She referred to the medium as Magdalena. Know anything about that?’

  ‘No,’ Baldvin said. ‘I know nothing about that. We’ve discussed this. I didn’t know she’d been to a psychic. I don’t know any medium called Magdalena.’

  ‘She went to a medium because she thought she saw her mother here in the house, quite some time after Leonóra died.’

  ‘I know nothing about that,’ Baldvin said. ‘She may have been more receptive than other people; she thought she saw things as she was waking up. It’s not uncommon. And not unnatural, if that’s what you’re driving at.’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  Baldvin hesitated. He had taken a seat opposite Erlendur again.

  ‘Maybe I should have a word with your superiors,’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ Erlendur said. ‘If you think it’ll make you feel better.’

  ‘It’s . . . speaking of ghosts. There’s one thing I haven’t told you,’ Baldvin said, suddenly burying his face in his hands. ‘You might understand María better if you knew. What she did. It might allay your suspicions. I hope you understand that I didn’t do anything to her. That what she did, she did alone.’

  Erlendur remained silent.

  ‘It’s connected with the accident at Thingvellir.’

  ‘The accident? You mean when Magnús died?’

  ‘Yes. I thought I wouldn’t need to bring it up but since you seem to think something shady has happened it’s probably best if I tell you. I promised María not to tell anyone but I don’t like your visits and I want them to stop. I don’t want you coming round here with your hints and insinuations. I want you to stop this and let us . . . let me mourn my wife in peace.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Something María told me after Leonóra died. About her father and Lake Thingvallavatn.’

  ‘Which was?’

  Baldvin took a deep breath.

  ‘Leonóra and María’s description of what happened when he drowned is correct on all the main points apart from one. You may have examined the case; you seem incapable of leaving any of our affairs alone.’

  ‘I know something about it,’ Erlendur said.

  ‘I only knew the official version, like everyone else. The propeller came loose, Magnús probably tried to fiddle with the motor and fell overboard, the water was freezing cold and he drowned.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, according to María, he wasn’t alone in the boat. I know I shouldn’t be telling you this but I don’t know how else to get rid of you.’

  ‘Who was with him in the boat?’

  ‘Leonóra.’

  ‘Leonóra?’

  ‘Yes. Leonóra and . . .’

  ‘And who?’

  ‘María.’

  ‘María was in the boat as well?’

  ‘Magnús went behind Leonóra’s back; he was having an affair. I gather he told her at Thingvellir. At the holiday cottage. Leonóra was shattered. She’d had no idea. Then Magnús, Leonóra and María went out in the boat. María didn’t tell me what happened there but we know that Magnús fell overboard. The end came very quickly. No one survives long in Lake Thingvallavatn in autumn.’

  ‘And María?’

  ‘María witnessed it,’ Baldvin said. ‘She said nothing when the police arrived, simply confirmed the story that Magnús had been alone in the boat.’

  ‘Didn’t she tell you what happened on board?’

  ‘No. She didn’t want to.’

  ‘And you believed her?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Did it affect her badly?’

  ‘Yes, all her life. It wasn’t until after Leonóra had died, after the harrowing period when she’d lain dying here in the house, that María told me. I promised not to tell a soul. I hope you’ll honour that promise.’

  ‘Was that why they didn’t touch his money? Because of a guilty conscience?’

  ‘The land was completely worthless until the suburbs around Reykjavík started to grow. They forgot all about it until a big building contractor tracked them down and made them an offer. Three hundred million. They were flabbergasted.’

  Baldvin looked at the photograph of María that stood on the table beside them.

  ‘She’d quite simply had enough,’ he said. ‘She’d never been able to talk to anyone about what happened and Leonóra somehow managed to make her complicit in her guilt, secured her silence. María couldn’t live alone with the truth and . . . chose this way out.’

  ‘You mean that the suicide was connected to this business with her father?’

  ‘It seems obvious to me,’ Baldvin said. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you but . . .’

  Erlendur rose to his feet.

  ‘I won’t bother you any more,’ he said. ‘That’s enough for today.’

  ‘Are you going to use this knowledge? About what happened at Thingvellir?’

  ‘I see no reason to reopen the case. It was a long time ago and both Leonóra and María are dead.’

  Baldvin escorted Erlendur to the door. He had already stepped out on to the pavement when he turned back.

  ‘Just one more thing,’ Erlendur said. ‘Do you have a shower at Thingvellir?’

  ‘A shower?’ Baldvin said, perplexed.

  ‘Yes, or a bathtub?’

  ‘We have both. A shower and a hot tub. I expect you mean the hot tub. It’s out on the veranda. Why do you ask?’

  ‘No reason. Of course, a hot tub. Doesn’t everyone have one at their holiday home?’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  ‘Yes, goodbye.’

  María had not had any problems with hallucinations for a long time until her father appeared to her in the garden and shouted at her to be careful, No one else had seen him, No one else had heard him shouting, Her father vanished as suddenly as he had appeared and all María could hear afterwards was the moaning of the wind and the slamming of the gate, Fleeing inside, she locked the door to the veranda, retreated int
o her bedroom and buried her face in the pillow.

  She had heard that voice before during the seance with Andersen, exactly the same words of warning, but did not know what they were supposed to mean, why they had been said and how much notice she should take of them, She did not know what she was supposed to be careful of.

  She was still awake when Baldvin came home late that night and they returned to the topic of the seance with Magdalena that María had told him about, She described the meeting and its effect on her more fully, saying she not only believed what had emerged there but wanted to believe it too, Wanted to believe that there was another life after this one, That our time on Earth was not the end of it all.

  Baldvin lay listening to her in silence.

  ‘Have I ever told you about a guy I knew when I was studying medicine? His name was Tryggvi,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ María said.

  ‘He wanted to try and find out if there was an afterlife, He persuaded his cousin who was a doctor to help him, He had read something about a French experiment on near-death experience, We studied medicine together, There was a girl with us, The four of us took part in the experiment.’

  María listened attentively to Baldvin’s account of how they had stopped Tryggvi’s heart, then revived him, and how it had worked perfectly except that Tryggvi had had nothing to tell.

  ‘What became of him?’ María asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Baldvin said, ‘I haven’t seen him since.’

  A long silence descended on the room where Leonóra’s final struggle had taken place.

  ‘Do you think . . .?’

  María broke off.

  ‘What?’ Baldvin asked.

  ‘Do you think you could do something like that?’

  ‘It’s perfectly possible.’

  ‘Could you do it to me? For me?’

  ‘Foryou?’

  ‘Yes, I . . . I’ve read so much about near-death experiences.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Is the experiment risky?’

  ‘It could be,’ Baldvin said. ‘I’m not going to—’

  ‘Could we do it here?’ María asked. ‘Here at home?’

  ‘María . . . ’

  ‘Is it very dangerous?’

  ‘María, I can’t—’

  ‘Is it very dangerous?’

  ‘That . . . that depends, Are you seriously considering it?’

  ‘Why not?’ María said, ‘What have I got to lose?’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Baldvin said.

  ‘Did you lock the gate?’ María asked.

  ‘Yes, I locked it when I came in.’

  ‘He looked horrible,’ María said, ‘Horrible.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Dad. I know he’s not happy, Hecan’t be happy. I know that, Hewasn’t meant to go like that, Hewasn’t meant to die like that, It should never have happened.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Tell me more about this Tryggvi,’ María said. ‘What happened exactly? How would you go about something like that? What would you need to make it work?’

  27

  Erlendur called his daughter early on Sunday morning and asked if she would like to come for a drive. He wanted to spend the day driving around the Reykjavík area, looking at lakes. Eva Lind was asleep when he rang and it took her a while to grasp what he was saying. She was unenthusiastic but Erlendur would not accept no for an answer. Surely she didn’t have much to do that Sunday, any more than she ever did. It was not as if she went to church, after all. Finally she gave in. Erlendur tried to get hold of Sindri Snaer but received a message saying that either his phone was switched off or he was out of range. Valgerdur was working all weekend.

  Under normal circumstances he would have made the trip alone and been happy to do so, but this time he wanted Eva’s company; naturally he was fed up with his own, as she was quick to point out during their phone conversation. He smiled. Eva Lind was in a better humour than usual, even though her idea of bringing Erlendur and Halldóra together had led nowhere and her dream of establishing a better relationship between her parents seemed doomed to failure.

  Neither mentioned the subject as they drove out of town together. It was a beautiful autumnal day. The sun shone low over the Bláfjöll range and the weather was still but cold. They stopped off at a kiosk where Erlendur bought them some sandwiches and cigarettes. He had made a thermos of coffee before leaving home. There was a blanket in the boot. It occurred to him as he drove away from the shop that he had never been for a Sunday outing with Eva Lind before.

  They began with a small circuit of the city. He had studied detailed maps of Reykjavík and its vicinity, and was surprised at the vast number of lakes that were to be found in a relatively small area. They were almost uncountable. He and Eva Lind started at Lake Ellidavatn where a new suburb had sprung up, then did a circuit of Raudavatn on a decent road, before continuing to Reynisvatn which had now disappeared behind the new suburb of Grafarholt. From there they drove past Langavatn and had a view of numerous little lakes on Middalsheidi Moor before slowly proceeding to Mosfellsheidi. They inspected Leirvogsvatn beside the road to Thingvellir, followed by Stíflisdalsvatn and Mjóavatn. It was late by the time they descended to Thingvellir, turned north and passed Sandkluftavatn which lay beside the road north of Hofmannaflöt on the route over the pass at Uxahryggir and down the Lundarreykjadalur valley. They picnicked beside Litla-Brunnavatn, just off the road to Biskupsbrekka.

  Erlendur spread out the blanket and they stretched their legs and tucked into the sandwiches from the kiosk. He took out some chocolate biscuits and poured them two cups of coffee, then gazed across the treeless landscape to Thingvellir and Hofmannaflöt beneath Mount Ármannsfell, where people in the Middle Ages used to entertain themselves with horse fights. He had visited various second-hand bookshops in search of the lake book that Davíd might conceivably have been intending to buy. The only one that seemed to fit the bill had been published just before Davíd had gone missing and was called simply Lakes in the Reykjavík Area. It was a handsome volume, lavishly illustrated with photographs of lakes and their surroundings, taken in different seasons. Eva Lind leafed through the book, studying the pictures.

  ‘If you think she fell in one of these lakes then all I can say is good luck finding her,’ she remarked, sipping her coffee.

  Erlendur had told her about Gudrún, or Dúna, who had disappeared thirty years ago without anyone knowing exactly when. He told her about Gudrún’s fascination with lakes and said that he did not think it was completely far-fetched to link her disappearance to another missing-person case, that of a young man called Davíd. Eva Lind was intrigued by the idea that Davíd might have met the girl shortly before he vanished. Erlendur imagined that the book might have been intended for Gudrún. She and Davíd would only just have met at that point, so recently that no one except Davíd’s friend Gilbert would have had any inkling of it. Information about their budding relationship had not emerged until many years later when Gilbert moved home to Iceland from Denmark.

  Eva Lind found her father’s theory rather implausible and said as much. Erlendur nodded but pointed out that the one important detail that these two cases had in common was that there was so little information to go on. Nothing was known about Davíd’s disappearance. And all that was known about Gudrún was that her car had vanished with her and had never been found.

  ‘What if they knew each other?’ Erlendur said, gazing out over Litla-Brunnavatn. ‘What if Davíd bought the lake book for her? What if they went for that last drive together? We know when Davíd went missing. The report of Gudrún’s disappearance reached the police just over a fortnight later. That’s why we never connected the two cases, but she might well have gone missing at the same time as him.’

  ‘Then good luck finding them,’ Eva Lind repeated. ‘There must be a thousand lakes that fit the bill if you think that’s what they went to look at. It’s like fucking Finland. Wouldn’t it be simple
r to assume that they drove into the sea, drove off the docks somewhere?’

  ‘We dragged all the main harbours for her car,’ Erlendur said.

  ‘Couldn’t they both have just committed suicide separately?’

  ‘Yes, of course. That’s what we’ve thought up to now. I . . . It’s a completely new idea to link them. I’m rather taken with it. There’s been no progress on these cases for decades, then suddenly it emerges that she was fascinated by lakes and that he mentioned buying a book about lakes, a subject he had never shown the slightest interest in before.’

  Erlendur took a sip of coffee.

  ‘And on top of that his father is dying and will probably never receive any sort of answer to his questions. Any more than the boy’s mother – who is already dead. I’m thinking of that, too. Of answers. They should have some kind of answer. People don’t just walk out of their homes and disappear. They always leave some trace. Except in these two cases. That’s what they have in common. There’s no trace. We have nothing to go on. In either case.’

  ‘Granny never got any answers,’ Eva Lind said, lying back on the blanket and staring up at the sky.

  ‘No, she never got any answers,’ Erlendur agreed.

  ‘Yet you never give up,’ Eva said. ‘You keep on looking. You go out east.’

  ‘Yes, I do. I go out east. I walk over to Harđskafi and up on to Eskifjördur Moor. I camp there sometimes.’

  ‘But you never find anything.’

  ‘No. Nothing but memories.’

  ‘Aren’t they enough?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Hardskafi? What’s that?’

  ‘It’s a mountain. Your grandmother thought Bergur had died up there. I don’t know why she thought that. It was some intuition. He would have had to have been carried quite a way off course if so, but the wind was blowing in that direction and obviously we both sought shelter from the wind. She often went over there, right up until we moved away from the countryside.’

  ‘Have you climbed the mountain?’

  ‘Yes – it’s easy enough to climb, in spite of its forbidding name.’

  ‘Have you stopped going there, then?’

  ‘I hardly ever climb up there any more, I content myself with looking.’