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in the city for more than a decade. Enquiries had revealed that he rarely visited his mother. Scarcely ever, in fact. Over recent decades many people had left the area, as Kristjana’s son had done, and Elinborg’s impression was that the woman had been abandoned, marooned in a vanished era. Her world had remained unchanged while Iceland had undergone a transformation. In that sense Kristjana reminded Elinborg of Erlendur, who could never shake off his past, nor wished to; his mindset and manners were old-fashioned, and he clung fast to values which, without anyone particularly noticing or caring, were rapidly disappearing. How could she tell this woman that her son had carried a date-rape drug in his pocket?
    ‘When did you last hear from him?’ asked Elinborg.
    Kristjana hesitated, as if this simple question required careful thought. ‘Probably a bit over a year ago,’ she said.
    ‘Over a year?’ Elinborg repeated.
    ‘He didn’t have much contact with me,’ Kristjana said.
    ‘Yes, but hadn’t you heard from him for over a year?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘When did you last see him?’
    ‘He last came here three years ago. Didn’t stay long, probably about an hour. He didn’t speak to anyone but me. He said he was passing through, in a hurry. I don’t know where he was going. I didn’t ask.’
    ‘Were you estranged?’
    ‘No, not as such, but he didn’t feel any need to be in touch,’ said Kristjana.
    ‘But what about you? Didn’t you ring him?’
    ‘He was always changing his phone number, so eventually I gave up trying. And, since he wasn’t interested, I didn’t want to impose. I left him alone.’
    Neither woman spoke for a while.
    ‘Do you know who did it?’ Kristjana finally asked.
    ‘We have no idea,’ Elinborg replied. ‘The investigation’s in its early stages, so …’
    ‘It could take a long time?’
    ‘Possibly. So you didn’t know much about his private life - friends, women in his life, or …’
    ‘No, I didn’t know anything about that. Did he live with a woman? The last I knew, he didn’t. That was one of the things I talked to him about, whether he was going to settle down, start a family and that. He didn’t give me much of an answer. He probably thought I was nagging.’
    ‘We believe he lived alone,’ said Elinborg. ‘His landlord had that impression. Did he have any friends here in the village?’
    ‘They’ve all moved away. The young people all leave, that’s nothing new. They’re talking about closing down the school, bussing the children over to the next fjord every day. This place has had the kiss of death. Maybe I should have left, too, gone to your wonderful Reykjavik. I’ve never been, and I never shall. People didn’t travel much in the old days, and somehow I never had reason to go to the capital. I don’t care, though. There’s never been anything for me there. Nothing. Did you grow up there?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Elinborg. ‘I like the city, and I quite understand those who want to move and settle there. So, your son: was he not in contact with anyone here in the village?’
    ‘No,’ answered Kristjana firmly. ‘Not so far as I know.’
    ‘Did he ever get into trouble here? Anything illegal? Did he make any enemies?’
    ‘Here? No. Absolutely not. I don’t know much about him after he left here. As I said, I wasn’t aware of his circumstances, so I can’t answer questions like that. I’m sorry I can’t help. It’s just the way he was.’ She gazed at Elinborg. ‘You can’t tell what will become of your children. Do you have kids of your own?’
    Elinborg nodded.
    ‘What do you know about what they’re up to?’ said Kristjana. Elinborg thought of Valthor. ‘How do you know what they may do?’ Kristjana asked. ‘I realise it’s not an acceptable thing to say, but I didn’t know my son well: I didn’t know what he did from day to day, or what he was thinking. In many ways he was a stranger to me, and a mystery. I’m sure I’m not