Oblivion (28 page)

Erlendur watched Mensalder dealing with the cars. His movements seemed even more ponderous than before, he no longer exchanged pleasantries with the drivers, and carefully avoided looking in Erlendur’s direction. As closing time approached, the traffic thinned out and eventually the lights by the pumps went out and Erlendur saw Mensalder’s colleague shutting up for the night. The two men emerged from the garage shop together and said goodnight, and after a brief hesitation Mensalder headed over to where Erlendur was sitting in the car. Erlendur wound down the window.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘Do we have to do this?’ said Mensalder. ‘Haven’t I told you enough?’

‘You haven’t told me anything,’ said Erlendur. ‘Let’s get this over with. The sooner the better.’

‘But nothing happened and … I don’t know what it is you want,’ whimpered Mensalder. ‘She never came and I don’t know –’

‘Have you got a car?’

‘Yes.’

‘Leave it here. Come on, hurry up. You’re not getting out of this, Mensalder. You’ve done that for far too long.’

Mensalder still hung back. But when it finally came home to him that Erlendur was not planning to give up, he walked round the front of the car and got into the passenger seat. Erlendur set off, heading for the west of town. They drove in silence the whole way, except when Mensalder gave directions, and in no time they had reached the place where he claimed to have waited in his car for Dagbjört that fateful morning. It wasn’t far from the Vesturbær swimming pool, where Camp Knox had once stood. The wind had dropped and hot veils of steam rose from the open-air pool, reminding Erlendur of the time he had stood beside the milky-blue lagoon on Reykjanes, watching the clouds of vapour dispersing above the power station.

‘Stop,’ said Mensalder. ‘It was around about here. All these houses have been built since then, and the pool too, of course, but this is where I parked and waited for her.’

‘Why didn’t you just go round to her house?’ asked Erlendur, turning off the engine. ‘Why all the secrecy?’

‘She didn’t want me to. She didn’t want her parents to know – that she was wasting money on records. She was going to say she’d borrowed them. Anyway, what I was doing was black-marketeering and I wasn’t keen to draw attention to the fact. I’d spent the night in town and was on my way back to Keflavík that morning, so it suited me fine.’

‘Did she suggest this spot?’

‘Yes, I think … from what I can remember.’

‘Tell me what happened.’

Mensalder was still wearing his petrol-station jacket but had taken down the hood and removed his baseball cap, and Erlendur now saw that he looked much older than his years. It was the drooping cheeks and greying hair but most of all the deep creases around his mouth and eyes that created this impression. Mensalder lowered his gaze and rubbed his hands as he told again how he had needed the records back urgently because he had promised them to someone else, and that Rósanna had suggested he fetch them himself from her friend Dagbjört; she was sure it would be OK. So he had gone to her house and picked them up and had a quick chat with Dagbjört. She was alone at home and asked if he would be able to get her some records. She wanted American jeans too, if he came across any. She told him her size. But mainly it was the latest hits she was after. He remembered well the artists she mentioned: Billie Holiday, Nat King Cole, Frankie Laine.

Not long afterwards he had acquired two Billie Holiday records from a corporal he sometimes did business with, and a Frankie Laine from one of the army stores. He’d had less success with the jeans. He had taken his dollars to the shops on the base and found a pair that were slightly larger than Dagbjört wanted. Although the size was wrong, he had taken them anyway as he knew he could easily find another buyer in town. At the same time he had bought a nice coat as a birthday present for his mother.

Dagbjört had given him her number and answered the phone herself when he rang. He said he could drop by her house that evening but it turned out she was busy, and besides, would prefer to keep their dealings away from home. When he said he had to return to the base early next morning, she asked if she could meet him outside the Women’s College. He felt this would be a bit too conspicuous, so they agreed to meet closer to her house, near Camp Knox, and that he would give her a lift the rest of the way to school.

He had arrived earlier than intended and parked the Morris as arranged, in a spot which at the time had been slightly off the beaten track. Nowadays, of course, it was surrounded by houses. He had the records with him, and the jeans as well, even though they were the wrong size. He meant to offer them to Rósanna if Dagbjört rejected them.

Time passed and there was no sign of Dagbjört. He thought back over their conversation in case he had misunderstood her or was waiting in the wrong place. He didn’t know the area very well as he had grown up in the east of town, but her directions had been so straightforward and clear that he was sure this was the spot. Fifteen minutes after the appointed time, he started the Morris and drove away.

‘I swear to you,’ said Mensalder, ‘she never showed up.’

‘Do you expect me to believe this story?’ said Erlendur, who had remained silent while the other man was speaking.

‘Yes, of course,’ said Mensalder. ‘Because that’s how it was; there’s nothing more to tell. I just did as she asked and waited for her, but when she didn’t turn up, I drove out to the base. Next thing I heard they’d launched a massive search for her all over Reykjavík.’

‘And you did nothing to help?’

‘No, I –’

‘Didn’t let on to anyone that you’d spoken to her. That you’d waited for her that morning. Didn’t try to help her family. Or any of those who were devastated by the incident. Something about this doesn’t add up, Mensalder. You’re lying to me. Or not telling me the whole truth. I don’t know how but I believe you played a part in her disappearance. Come on, admit it.’

Mensalder didn’t answer.

‘Don’t you think it’s time, after all these years?’ said Erlendur. ‘Time you stopped trying to hide?’

JOAN MADE TO
slam the door in their faces the instant she saw who her visitors were but Caroline shoved hard in the opposite direction and the woman stumbled backwards. Caroline barged in, and Marion, following on her heels, closed the door. A pungent reek of cannabis filled the flat and there was soothing, hypnotic music playing on the hi-fi. The kitchen light was on, dimly illuminating the hall. Candles were burning in the sitting room.

‘Cosy,’ said Caroline.

‘Get the fuck out of here!’ shouted Joan. ‘You have no right to come in here. And who’s that freak with you?’

‘Keep a civil tongue in your head,’ snapped Caroline.

‘Get out, you bitch!’

‘I thought dope was supposed to make you nice and mellow,’ said Caroline, surveying the flat. ‘Doesn’t seem to work on you. Where’s your husband? Is he back yet?’

‘I have nothing to say to you,’ said Joan. ‘I’m going to call the police. They’ll throw you in jail. You can’t just force your way in here like this.’

‘Aren’t you afraid we’ll confiscate your dope?’

Joan paused, muddled. She had forgotten Caroline was in the police and gaped at her armband in bemusement.

‘What would Earl say?’ asked Caroline. ‘If the cops took all his shit away?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Joan. ‘What shit?’

‘The stuff Kristvin bought off him,’ put in Marion.

‘Kris?’

‘Isn’t it correct that Earl supplied him with marijuana?’ said Marion, speaking as clearly as possible so that Joan would grasp what was going on.

‘Are you using his drugs?’ asked Caroline.

‘No, I –’

‘You admitted to sleeping with Kristvin,’ said Caroline. ‘You admitted to cheating on Earl with Kristvin. We need to know if Earl found out. We also need to know if Kristvin owed Earl money and had trouble paying him back. Can you tell us anything about that?’

Joan listened dully. Her gaze swivelled back and forth between Caroline and Marion as if she was trying to figure out what had led to this violent invasion of her apartment and how it was connected to her affair with Kristvin and his death.

‘Earl didn’t touch him,’ she said at last, believing she had hit upon the nub of the matter.

‘Did Kristvin buy his dope from him?’ asked Marion.

‘What dope?’

‘The stuff you’re smoking now, girl,’ said Caroline.

‘Is your husband a dealer?’ asked Marion.

‘I … I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Joan.

‘All right,’ said Caroline. ‘Then you’d better come with me and we’ll have another chat down at the police station.’

‘Police station …? No, it … I … can’t say … I mustn’t … mustn’t talk about that. You’ll have to ask him. I don’t know nothing. Nothing at all.’

‘You’d better come with me,’ repeated Caroline.

‘How’s his sister?’ asked Joan suddenly.

‘Kristvin’s sister?’

Joan nodded.

‘What do you know about her? Did he tell you about her?’

‘I know she’s sick. That’s why he needed the grass.’

‘She wants to know what happened to her brother,’ said Marion. ‘She believes he died because he was trying to score drugs for her. She feels guilty. We know Kristvin bought marijuana from somebody here on the base. Was it Earl?’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Caroline. ‘You told me you didn’t know Kristvin used marijuana. Now suddenly you know all about his sister and why he needed the drugs. What else have you lied about? Is everything you say a lie?’

‘You shut your mouth. I’m not lying.’

‘Was Earl in the country when Kristvin died?’ asked Caroline.

Joan didn’t answer.

‘I haven’t had time to check,’ Caroline said to Marion. ‘Joan claimed he wasn’t on the base the day Kristvin was killed. But I still haven’t verified that. You can’t trust a word this woman says.’

‘Sure you can,’ protested Joan.

‘Was your husband in the country?’ asked Marion, moving closer to Joan.

‘He flew out that evening or night. He wasn’t in the country. I’m one hundred per cent sure of that.’

‘Evening or night? Which night?’

‘The night Kris was here.’

‘You swore Kristvin left you before midnight, around eleven o’clock. Had Earl left the country by then or not?’

‘Earl left here about 6 p.m. I called Kris once he’d gone and he … I don’t remember exactly … it was the same day. Earl was gone.’

Joan wandered into the sitting room. She seemed to have given up complaining about the intrusion and snapping at Caroline. She sat down in the soft glow of the candles. A look of weariness crossed her face and she stared silently, blankly at the flames, the Dolly Parton wig a little askew on her head.

‘Where did he fly to?’ asked Caroline. ‘Do you know?’

‘He went to Greenland. I’m sure he’d left by the time Kris came to see me. Earl didn’t know about us. He knew nothing. He was gone.’

‘Where in Greenland?’

‘I don’t remember what it’s called. I always forget.’

‘Thule?’

‘Yes, Thule, that’s it,’ said Joan, giving Caroline a wondering look. ‘How did you know? Did I tell you?’

‘We have a big airbase at Thule,’ said Caroline. ‘Any idea what he’s doing over there?’

‘No. Earl doesn’t talk much about that kind of thing. Doesn’t talk much to me at all. You know, doesn’t tell me anything. He doesn’t treat me good. Not like Kris. He was different. He was …’

Her words petered out and Caroline sat down beside her. There was a TV in one corner and a small bookcase containing paperback romances and thrillers by big-name writers. A couple of Danielle Steels on the coffee table. But almost no ornaments. Only a large framed AC/DC poster on one wall and a wedding photo of Joan and Earl on a table. Marion noticed a collection of hunting knives in a glass cabinet and assumed they were Earl’s. Perhaps he liked to hunt back home. The knives looked extremely sharp, sharp enough to skin big game. Marion wondered if Earl was capable of that. Through a doorway they could see into the bedroom where there was an empty wig stand on the dressing table.

‘What do you think happened to Kris?’ asked Caroline.

‘I don’t know. He was OK when he left here. That’s all I know. There’s no point asking me. I don’t know what happened. He often used to drop by the Zoo and he loved the States; he loved living there, and he was … he was kind, you know what I mean? He was a nice boy, you know? We got talking and it was fun and one time when Earl was away I … I just invited him home. I just did. And we … I don’t know why it had to turn out like that. I don’t know. I know nothing about what happened. Nothing. He just left and never came back.’

Joan looked up.

‘How’s his sister?’ she asked again. ‘Kris told me she was real sick.’

‘Tell us a bit more about Earl. What exactly does he do here on the base?’

‘Do? What do you mean? He’s in the marines.’

‘What does he do in the marines?’

‘This and that. Security at the moment. I believe. I don’t know what he does. He never tells me about his assignments. I think … I don’t think he’s allowed to. That must be the reason. He’s so quiet. Never speaks to me. Not a word. I gave up asking a long time ago.’

‘Where does he work?’ asked Caroline.

‘Earl works in the hangar.’

‘The hangar?’

‘Yeah, the big one.’

‘Hangar 885?’

‘He’s there all day and all night and never tells me a thing about what he does.’

‘Are you saying he’s a security guard in the big hangar?’ asked Caroline, her eyes on Marion.

‘Last I heard. I don’t know. I don’t care what he does.’

‘Where is he now?’ asked Caroline. ‘Greenland?’

‘He was in Greenland but I thought he was coming home this evening.’

‘What’s he doing there?’

‘He wants a transfer. To the base whose name I always forget. I think he’s going to drag me there next.’

‘Has he been planning this for a while?’

‘No idea.’

‘Was it him who slashed Kris’s tyres?’ asked Marion.

‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’

‘Did he lie in wait for Kris outside the building?’ asked Caroline.