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short black hair. She wouldn’t have mentioned her recent break-up only she wanted to explain how kind her brother had been to her throughout the wretched business. He had helped her find a new place and make a fresh start.
    ‘There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me,’ she said, her gaze swinging from Marion to Erlendur as they sat facing her in the small sitting room. She had shown them a recent photograph of her brother. They could see at once that it was the man from the lagoon but kept the knowledge to themselves.
    Her brother’s name, she told them, was Kristvin, and in a low, hesitant voice she began to go over the salient facts about him. He lived in Reykjavík but worked out at Keflavík. He was an air mechanic and two years ago, after completing his training in America, he had been taken on by Icelandair. He was unmarried, had no children and not many friends either; he had become a bit of a loner since returning home from abroad. He told her he had lost touch with most of his old mates while he was away. They didn’t have much family either: their mother was dead and their father had had little contact with them since he remarried and moved to Denmark.
    ‘When did you last hear from your brother?’ asked Marion.
    ‘About four days ago,’ answered Nanna. ‘He came over and we had a meal together.’
    ‘And was he his usual self?’
    ‘Yes, he was. He didn’t act any differently from normal.’
    ‘Do you see much of each other?’ asked Erlendur.
    ‘Yes, that’s the thing. We talk pretty much every day. He rings me or I ring him and we meet at his place or mine, or go to the cinema, that kind of thing. I tried to get hold of him – er – the day after he came round. Just rang him at home as usual but he didn’t answer. So I tried him again next day and then the next – rang several times – but he never answered. We’d arranged to meet up yesterday. The idea was that I’d go to his, then we’d maybe see a film. But when I went round he didn’t answer the bell. I have a spare key in case he locks himself out and I took it with me because I hadn’t heard from him and was worried he might be ill or something. So I went inside but there was nobody there. The flat smelt musty as if he hadn’t been home for a while. His bed wasn’t made, but that was nothing new. I opened the windows to air the place, then went home, feeling worried. Really worried, to be honest.’
    ‘Did you try him at work?’ asked Erlendur.
    ‘Yes, yesterday, before I went round to his flat. I phoned and they told me he hadn’t shown up at work for two days and they hadn’t heard from him. They said they’d called him at home but got no answer. They wanted me to tell him to get in touch if I heard from him.’
    She drew a deep breath.
    ‘Then I saw the news about the body on Reykjanes but it didn’t cross my mind to connect it with him. They were treating it as murder and it didn’t occur to me that Kristvin could have … could have died like that. It was just too surreal. Perhaps I was subconsciously afraid, though, because I slept badly last night, then woke up suddenly, thinking it must be him. It had to be my brother, Kristvin.’
    She was fighting back the tears now.
    ‘Was he in any kind of trouble?’ asked Erlendur.
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘Had he fallen out with anyone? Do you think someone might have wanted to harm him?’
    ‘No, I can’t imagine it. I just can’t. He’s never mentioned anything like that to me.’
    ‘The man we found was wearing cowboy boots,’ put in Marion.
    Nanna nodded. ‘Kristvin has boots like that. He wears them all the time. He’s got three pairs he bought in America.’
    ‘He was wearing clothes with American labels,’ said Erlendur. ‘We thought he might be a soldier from the base.’
    ‘I suppose he was wearing his leather jacket?’ Nanna said. ‘He always wears the same jacket.’
    ‘That fits with the man we found,’ said Erlendur. ‘Could you let us