Oblivion

by Arnaldur Indridason

  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.’

  He made to shut the door but Erlendur stepped forward and prevented him.

  ‘Get out of the doorway,’ cried Rasmus. ‘Go away.’

  The words burst from between his thin, barely moving lips, and his pale face swelled with the strain of withstanding Erlendur’s weight. But Erlendur had no intention of letting him out of his sight this time. Rasmus proved incapable of putting up much resistance and a moment later Erlendur was standing in the entrance hall, the door swinging shut behind him.

  ‘Get out!’ shrieked Rasmus. ‘You have no right to force your way in here.’

  ‘I’ll go in a minute,’ said Erlendur. ‘I need to know what you saw. I need to ask you a few questions, then I’ll be out of here. I promise. A few questions, that’s all.’

  ‘No, I want you to leave!’

  ‘It’s up to you. The sooner we can have a civilised chat, the sooner I’ll be gone. Understand? I’m not going anywhere till you’ve answered my questions.’

  Erlendur couldn’t see much of the house from the hall, though he noticed a staircase. A faint light came from the upper floor but otherwise the house was shrouded in darkness. There was a strong odour of mildew. Maybe the roof or a water pipe had leaked at some point in the past. He could see the shapes of paintings on the walls and part of the way into what looked like a study by the stairs. Once his eyes had adjusted to the dark he realise
d there was a large chandelier hanging over the staircase. If the house had looked gloomy from the street, it was positively creepy inside.

  Rasmus was watching him and the stand-off continued until eventually Rasmus dropped his eyes. The tension in his body eased, his shoulders sagged, his face grew blank again and he sighed heavily, as if resigned to this ill-mannered invasion.

  ‘You’re not coming any further inside,’ he said.

  ‘All right,’ said Erlendur. ‘I didn’t mean to barge in like this, but –’

  ‘I have nothing to offer you,’ said Rasmus. ‘I don’t have any coffee or cakes. I haven’t been out recently.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Erlendur.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting any visitors.’

  ‘No, I’m aware of that.’

  ‘Or I’d have made arrangements,’ persisted Rasmus.

  Again Erlendur told him not to worry, puzzled by Rasmus’s sudden metamorphosis into an embarrassed host. One would have thought his greatest source of concern was not being able to entertain his guest properly. Perhaps this was a Danish habit instilled by his mother.

  ‘I should have let you know I was coming,’ Erlendur said, entering into the social pretence, though he knew it would have made no difference if he had given advance warning. ‘Could you tell me when you last saw Dagbjört?’

  ‘I don’t know … it’s been a long time,’ said Rasmus, his mouth scarcely moving, his lips pursed together as if he were reluctant to let the words escape. ‘I thought it had all been forgotten about years ago but then you turn up and start acting with a disgraceful rudeness I’ve never encountered before, and start interrogating me about her. It’s … I’ve … to tell the truth it’s come as quite a shock.’

  ‘You’d been living here for two years when Dagbjört went missing,’ said Erlendur. ‘Did you watch her from your window all that time?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t like that. Don’t try and make it sound dirty. It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘It sounds to me as if she was afraid of you,’ said Erlendur. ‘She must have found it excruciatingly embarrassing or she’d have told her parents straight away. Or her friends. She hardly dared confide it to her diary. She tore out the pages and hid them.’

  Rasmus regarded him expressionlessly.

  ‘No doubt she’d have complained about you if she’d discovered your spying earlier, but this was only two weeks before she disappeared. I want to know if anything happened during that time?’

  Rasmus didn’t answer.

  ‘Did she speak to you?’

  Rasmus shook his head.

  ‘Did you notice when Dagbjört caught you spying on her? Did she spot you lurking here in the dark? Do you remember?’

  ‘She saw me, yes,’ said Rasmus after a lengthy pause. ‘One evening she saw me and … then it was over. I never watched her again. I was so ashamed. She was never supposed to find out. After that she used to draw her curtains. And that was it.’

  ‘How come she noticed you?’

  ‘Clumsiness,’ said Rasmus. ‘I moved too close to the window and was suddenly visible to her and I realised at once that she suspected this wasn’t the first time I’d … I’d watched her. I’d been found out and I assumed her parents would be straight round and she’d come with them and point the finger at me, and they’d be outraged because what I’d done was ugly. So ugly I should have gone to prison for it. But then … nothing happened. No one came round until you turned up at my door all these years later. She never told anyone.’ His words faded to a whisper.

  ‘What made you behave like that?’ asked Erlendur.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Rasmus. ‘I didn’t have many friends and …’

  ‘Surely you didn’t think she’d become your friend?’

  ‘Oh, no, no, I never even dreamt of that. I’d have really liked to get to know her, really, really I would, but it was impossible. Impossible.’

  ‘You said you’d never spoken to Dagbjört. Was that true?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rasmus after a moment’s hesitation.

  ‘I find it hard to believe you lived next door to her for two years without ever exchanging a word.’

  ‘No, it … perhaps what I said to you last time wasn’t strictly accurate but I didn’t think it mattered. I did speak to her a handful of times but not about anything important. I feel you’re trying to twist everything I say to make it sound suspicious, so I’m sorry if I was cagey. I ran into her once in a shop that used to be near here but closed down ages ago. We were standing in the queue and she was kind enough to spare a few words for me.’

  ‘So she showed you some minor attention? Was that why you used to stand in your window, spying on her and dreaming that you were lovers?’

  Rasmus shook his head. ‘You’re deliberately misunderstanding me,’ he said. ‘You’re trying to get me into trouble. Mrs Kruse said girls were nothing but trouble and that I should watch myself with them, but I knew she was lying. She was a selfish woman. A spiteful woman. Dagbjört wasn’t like she said.’

  ‘Did she know what you were up to? Mrs Kruse? Did she know what you got up to in the evenings?’

  Rasmus’s eyes widened. ‘I can’t tell you anything else,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t ask me questions like that. Don’t ask me any more questions.’

  ‘Did Mrs Kruse catch you acting the peeping Tom?’

  ‘No, don’t ask me that,’ said Rasmus, shaking his head, visibly agitated. ‘You’ve got no right. You’ve got no right to judge me. I’m not a monster! I just want to be left alone. I can’t help you any more. I don’t know what happened to Dagbjört. I’d never have hurt her. Never. And now I want you to leave. You can’t stay here any longer.’

  ‘But you were afraid of being found out, weren’t you?’

  ‘It was –’

  ‘You were scared out of your wits that Dagbjört would report you,’ said Erlendur, moving closer to Rasmus. ‘You were terrified she’d tell her parents. Isn’t that how it went? You couldn’t bear to think of them finding out what you did alone in the evenings while you watched their daughter undress. While you watched her take off –’

  ‘Stop it! Don’t say that! Don’t say it. You don’t know what you’re talking about. How could you say something like that?’

  ‘But it’s the truth, isn’t it?’

  ‘No! No! It’s not.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I could never have hurt her,’ shouted Rasmus, his voice cracking, and retreating from Erlendur further inside the house. ‘Never. I used to watch over her so no harm would come to her. I was like her guardian angel, watching over her as she fell asleep. I could never have hurt her. I worshipped her. You’ve got to believe me,’ he whimpered. ‘You’ve got to believe me. I took part in the search too and prayed to God every evening that she’d be found. You’ve got to believe me. I could never have hurt her. I could never have hurt a hair on her head.’

  35

  RASMUS RETREATED DOWN the hall, backing towards the staircase until he stumbled over the bottom step. Recovering his balance, he climbed onto it and paused there. Erlendur could now see better in the gloom and was able to make out the study, a dining room and a kitchen to one side of him. Along the walls stood bundles of newspapers, tied together with string. The floor was strewn with plastic bags of rubbish. He could see the dim shapes of shelves, old furniture and paintings on the walls. There were cardboard boxes and packages on the floor and surfaces. On every side Erlendur was confronted with the clutter and chaos of a man who was trying to keep the world at a safe distance by turning this dark house into a refuge.

  ‘I’m sorry if I went too far,’ said Erlendur, feeling pity for the recluse. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. Didn’t mean to scare you.’

  Rasmus was looking at him sceptically.

  ‘I just have a few more questions, then I’ll go,’ said Erlendur.

  ‘You can’t force your way in here and speak to me like that,’ said Rasmus, still hurt and angry.


  ‘No, I know. I overstepped the mark. It won’t happen again. Just a few more questions, then I’ll be gone. When did you last speak to her?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You said you’d spoken to Dagbjört several times. Once when you met her in the shop. When was the last time you spoke to her?’

  ‘Shortly before she went missing. It was out here in the street, a bit further down. We got talking. She was having a party that evening and wanted to apologise in advance in case her friends were too noisy. I told her not to worry. I could tell by looking at her how much she was looking forward to it.’

  ‘Do you remember what else you talked about?’

  ‘Yes, I remember it well. Every detail. Every word she said. She told me they had a good gramophone but almost no decent records. And she asked if I could lend her any. I said I was afraid I didn’t own any records. The only music I listened to was on the radio. She said they never played anything for young people and I agreed. The State Broadcasting Service put on nothing but symphonies. Still does.’

  Rasmus attempted to smile but it resulted in no more than slight tremors of his lips that revealed a hint of teeth. He was recovering his composure after this rude invasion of his property. Erlendur had succeeded in calming him.

  ‘Was that all?’ said Erlendur. ‘You only talked about music?’

  ‘Yes, that was all.’

  ‘Is it right, what I’ve heard, that you were the victim of an attack several years after Dagbjört vanished?’

  ‘Where did you hear that?’ asked Rasmus, surprised.

  ‘From a man I know who used to live in Camp Knox.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to talk about it,’ said Rasmus hesitantly.

  ‘No, all right,’ said Erlendur, keen not to put too much pressure on the man.

  ‘It was an unpleasant experience.’

  ‘I can believe it.’

  ‘A couple of hooligans. They stank of the camp. I was walking home from town and they followed me as if I was some kind of freak. Started insulting me. I’d never seen them before but they seemed to know all about me. That I used to live with my mother and so on. That she was dead. I begged them to leave me alone but they wouldn’t listen. They pushed me into an alleyway and hit me. Stole my bag. Then ran away. I was left lying there, covered in blood, but managed to struggle home somehow.’