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strewing the three spadefuls of soil over the coffin, with an expression of unflinching toughness. Only with difficulty could she stand, but she pushed Erlendur away when he moved to help her. She made the sign of the cross over her daughter's grave and her lips quivered; Erlendur couldn't tell whether through fighting back the tears or mouthing a silent prayer.
It was a beautiful spring day, the sun was glittering on the surface of the water in the bay and down in Nauthó1svík people could be seen strolling in the fine weather. Halldóra stood some distance away and Sindri Snaer by the edge of the grave, far from his father. They could hardly have stood further apart; a disparate group with nothing in common except the misery of their lives. Erlendur reflected that the family hadn't been all together for almost a quarter of a century. He looked over at Halldóra, who avoided looking his way. He did not speak to her, nor she to him.
Eva Lind slumped back into the wheelchair and Erlendur attended to her and heard her groan.
'Fuck life.'
Erlendur snapped out of his thoughts when he remembered something that the man from the reception had said which he wanted to insist on an explanation for. He stood up, went into the corridor and saw the man disappearing into the lift. Eva was nowhere to be seen. He called out to the man who held the lift door, stepped back out and sized up Erlendur as he stood in front of him, barefoot, in his underpants with the quilt still draped over him.
'What did you mean when you said "Because of what happened"?' Erlendur asked.
'Because of what happened?' the man repeated with a puzzled expression.
'You said I couldn't have the girl in my room because of what happened.'
'Yes.'
'You mean what happened to Santa in the basement.'
'Yes. What do you know about...?'
Erlendur looked down at his underpants and hesitated for a moment.
'I'm taking part in the investigation,' he said. "The police investigation.'
The man looked at him, unable to conceal an expression of disbelief.
'Why did you make that connection?' Erlendur hurried to say.
'I don't follow,' the man said, dithering in front of him.
'So if Santa hadn't been killed it would be all right to have a girl in the room. That was the way you said it. You see what I mean?'
'No,' the man said. 'Did I say "Because of what happened"? I don't remember that.'
'You said just that. The girl wasn't allowed to be in the room because of what happened. You thought my daughter was a ...' Erlendur tried to put it delicately but failed. 'You thought my daughter was a tart and you came to throw her out because Santa got murdered. If that hadn't happened it would have been all right to have a girl in the room. Do you allow girls in the rooms? When everything's all right?'
The man looked at Erlendur.
'What do you mean by girls?'
'Tarts,' Erlendur said. 'Do tarts hang around the hotel, nipping into the rooms, and you ignore it apart from now because of what happened? What did Santa have to do with that? Was he connected with it somehow?'
'I haven't a clue what you're talking about,' the man said.
Erlendur changed tack.
'I can understand that you want to exercise caution when there's been a murder at the hotel. You don't want to draw attention to anything unusual or abnormal even if it's innocent, and there's nothing to say about that. People can do what they want and pay for it for all I care. What I need to know is whether Santa was connected with prostitution at this hotel.'
'I don't know anything about any prostitution,' the man said. 'As you saw, we keep a lookout for girls who go to rooms on their own. Was that really your daughter?'
'Yes,' Erlendur said.
'She told me to fuck off?
'That's her.'
Erlendur closed the door to his room behind him, lay down on the bed and soon fell asleep, dreaming that the heavens were strewn over him, and that he heard the sound of weathervanes rattling in the wind.

SECOND DAY

5
The reception manager had not yet arrived for work when