‘Why are you asking about that girl now?’ he asked.
‘Her aunt’s still looking for her.’
‘Isn’t that a lost cause?’
‘They know she can’t still be alive, if that’s what you mean. They just want to try and solve the mystery of why she vanished.’
‘But why now? Is there some new evidence?’
‘No, it’s just that time’s passing and soon it’ll be too late. What did the residents of the camp think of the search? Did they know Dagbjört? Did they know about the lad she was supposedly seeing?’
‘I remember that lots of them took part in the search and it was talked about at the time, but I don’t think the camp people felt it had anything to do with them. Or that any of them were likely to have harmed her. At least I don’t recall any mention of it. I’m not sure anybody knew her.’
‘Was it unusual for a lad from the camp to get involved with a girl from outside?’
‘How should I know?’ said Vilhelm. ‘We were no worse than anyone else. Don’t think that. Prejudice is prejudice, whichever way you look at it. OK, there were a few ugly customers around like anywhere else, I’m not trying to make excuses for that, but on the whole we were no worse than other people. I never knew a harder-working woman than my mother.’
Vilhelm nudged the shot glass meaningfully towards Erlendur.
‘How’s she doing, by the way?’
‘She said a lot of people went off the rails. But that it was the children who always came off worst.’
‘Did she talk about me at all?’ asked Vilhelm. ‘Did she mention my name? I haven’t seen her in ever such a long time.’
‘I got the impression it was you she was talking about,’ said Erlendur carefully, taking hold of the shot glass.
Vilhelm gave Erlendur a long look, then rose to his feet, saying he couldn’t hang about any longer, he had to be off. He was sorry he couldn’t help, he added, then knotted his coat more tightly around himself and said goodbye. Erlendur pursued him to the door of the cafe.
‘Thanks for agreeing to talk to me,’ he said.
‘No problem.’
‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’
‘Offend me? I’m not offended. Don’t know what you’re on about. So long.’
‘Just a minute, Vilhelm, one last thing. Did you know where Dagbjört lived?’
‘Where she lived? Yes, the news soon got around because everyone was talking about it. I knew exactly where she lived.’
‘Were you familiar with her street at all? With her neighbours?’
Vilhelm thought about this. ‘No, can’t say I was.’
‘You don’t happen to remember a half-Danish man called Rasmus Kruse who lived next door to Dagbjört? Used to live with his mother, though she’d died by that time. Bit of an oddball. At least, not the outgoing type.’
‘I remember Rasmus all right,’ said Vilhelm. ‘Remember him well. Didn’t know him to talk to but I remember seeing him around. His mother too. The old bitch. Hated us kids from the camp. We were filth in her eyes. She used to drive a big flashy car, a green Chevrolet, I think. Put on airs like she was a real lady. They beat the shit out of him... that Rasmus. Used to call him Arse-mus.’
‘What do you mean? Who beat him?’
‘Don’t know — some lads.’
‘When?’
‘Suppose it would have been a few years after that girl of yours went missing.’
‘Why... did it have something to do with her?’
‘No, I don’t think so. They kicked the shit out of Arse-mus because they thought he was a poof.’
With that Vilhelm darted out of the door and Erlendur watched him stride off towards the town centre, aware he would get nothing more out of him for now.
34
Erlendur went back to the payphone and rang Marion who still hadn’t heard from Caroline. Erlendur advised patience, but Marion was all for going out to Keflavík to see if she was all right. After a brief argument, they agreed to give her a little more time before taking action.
‘We’ve got her friends’ phone number,’ pointed out Erlendur. ‘If we don’t hear from her soon we can ring and—’
‘Already tried it,’ broke in Marion.
‘You what?’
‘I rang the number. It was answered by a member of staff at the Andrews cinema. He’d never heard of any Caroline.’
Hearing the pips, Erlendur hurriedly put more coins in the slot.
‘Did she give us a false number?’
‘Looks like it.’
‘Why? Is she trying to pull the wool over our eyes?’
‘Perhaps she just gave you a number to reassure you. I don’t know. Perhaps she doesn’t trust us any more. Probably doesn’t trust anyone.’
‘That’s what she said. That she didn’t trust anyone, but I thought she was making an exception for us. What the hell’s she playing at?’
‘Maybe she doesn’t have any friends there,’ suggested Marion.
‘Or her contact, that bloke in Washington, put the wind up her and told her not to work with us any more.’
‘In that case why would she have met up with you afterwards?’
‘Search me,’ said Erlendur. ‘To bring us up to speed? After all, she could be compelled to leave the country at a moment’s notice. Look, I’ve run out of coins. I’ll catch you later. I’ve just got to drop by somewhere first.’
He hung up and made way for a fat man with two large suitcases, newly arrived from the countryside, who had been waiting impatiently to use the phone. Erlendur went back to his car, keeping an eye out for Vilhelm as he drove away from the bus station, heading west in the direction of Rasmus Kruse’s house. In no time he was entering the street where Dagbjört had once lived and caught her neighbour spying on her in the evenings. He parked in front of Rasmus’s house, walked up to the front door and knocked.
He thought he saw the curtains moving upstairs but it could have been a trick of the light. He rapped again, louder this time. He didn’t want to alarm the man, mindful of how peculiar and fearful his behaviour had been at their previous meeting. There was no telling if he would open the door to Erlendur now that he knew who he was and why he had come. Erlendur knocked yet again, called the man’s name twice, then put his ear to the door. There was no movement. It was as if the house were sealed in silence. No outside sounds reached it. None could be heard from within.
He was turning away when the door opened behind him and a white face peered out.
‘I asked you not to come back,’ said Rasmus in a high, thin voice, regarding him with his bulging eyes. They reminded Erlendur of Vilhelm’s domed glasses.
‘Yes, I’m sorry,’ said Erlendur, ‘but I’m afraid I’ll have to disturb you again. I’d be grateful if we could talk, even if only for a few minutes.’
Rasmus Kruse stared at Erlendur for a while, clearly still trying to work out how to keep him at arm’s length.
‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ said Erlendur. ‘It might... it might actually do you good to talk to someone,’ he added.
‘Talking to you won’t do me any good,’ said Rasmus. ‘Please go away and never come back.’
‘Why are you so unwilling to talk to me? What are you scared of? I know you were acquainted with Dagbjört. It’s obvious. You lived next door to her. That’s no secret. I know you watched what was happening in the street and saw a good deal. I believe you used to stand in the window facing her house, peering in at her. She as good as said so in a letter I came across recently.’
‘What letter?’
‘It’s actually a page from her diary.’
‘Her diary?’
‘Please let me—’
‘No, I’m sorry, I can’t talk to you,’ muttered Rasmus, so quietly that Erlendur could barely hear him. ‘There’s nothing to say.’