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who had hurt his son so horrifically. He insisted that Elínborg bring them to justice.
Elínborg might never have found out the truth had they not lived in a two-storey house with the boy's room upstairs.
'She identifies with it in a bad way,' Sigurdur Óli said. 'Elínborg has a boy the same age.'
'You shouldn't let that influence you too much,' Erlendur said vacantly.
'Says who?'
The peaceful atmosphere of the breakfast buffet was disturbed by a noise from the kitchen. All the guests looked up, then at each other. A loud-voiced man was ranting about something or other. Erlendur and Sigurdur Óli stood up and went into the kitchen. The voice belonged to the head chef who had caught Erlendur when he nibbled at the ox tongue. He was raging at a biotechnician who wanted to take a saliva sample from him.
'... and bugger off out of here with your bloody swabs!' the chef shouted at a woman of fifty who had a little sampling box open on the table. She went on insisting politely in spite of his fury, which did not soothe his temper. When he saw Erlendur and Sigurdur Óli his rage was redoubled.
'Are you mad?' he shouted. 'Do you think I was down there with Gulli putting a condom on his dick? Are you lot mental? Fucking idiots! No way. No bloody way. I don't give a monkey's what you say! You can stick me in jail and throw away the key but I'm not taking part in this bloody fiasco! Just get that straight! Fucking idiots!'
The chef strode out of the kitchen, swollen with righteous male indignation which was rather undermined, however, by his chimney-like white hat, and Erlendur began to smile. He looked at the biotechnician who smiled back and started to laugh. The tension in the kitchen eased. The cooks and waiters who had gathered round roared with laughter.
'You having trouble?' Erlendur asked the biotechnician.
'No, not at all,' she said. 'Everyone's very understanding really. He's the first one to make a scene about it'
She smiled, and Erlendur thought her smile was pretty. She was roughly the same height as him, with thick, blond hair, cut short, and was wearing a colourful knitted cardigan buttoned down the front. Under the cardigan was a white blouse. She was wearing jeans and elegant black leather shoes.
'My name's Erlendur,' he said, almost instinctively, and held out his hand.
She became a little flustered.
'Yes,' she said, shaking his hand. 'I'm Valgerdur.'
'Valgerdur?' he repeated. He did not see a wedding ring.
Erlendur's mobile phone rang in his pocket.
'Excuse me,' he said, answering the phone. He heard an old, familiar voice asking for him.
'Is that you?' the voice asked.
'Yes, it's me,' Erlendur said.
'I'll never get the hang of these mobile phones,' the voice said. 'Where are you? Are you at the hotel? Maybe you're rushing off somewhere. Or in a lift.'
'I'm at the hotel.' Erlendur put his hand over the mouthpiece and asked Valgerdur to wait a moment, then went back into the dining room and out to the lobby. It was Marion Briem on the phone.
'Are you sleeping at the hotel?' Marion asked. 'Is something wrong? Why don't you go home?'
Marion Briem had worked for the old Police Investigation Department when that institution was still around, and had been Erlendur's mentor. Was already there when Erlendur joined and had taught him the detective's craft. Marion sometimes phoned Erlendur and complained that he never visited. Erlendur had never really liked his former boss and felt no particular urge to reappraise his feelings in Marion's old age. Perhaps because they were too similar. Perhaps because in Marion he saw his own future and wanted to avoid it. Marion lived a lonely life and hated being old.
'Why are you phoning?' Erlendur asked.
'Some people still keep me in the picture, even if you don't,' Marion said.
Erlendur was about to put a swift end to the conversation, but stopped himself. Marion had assisted him before, without being asked. He mustn't be rude.
'Can I help you with anything?' Erlendur asked.
'Give me the