“That’s what Benjamin said. One of that lot who beat their wives and their kids too. I never lifted a finger against my Elly.”

“Did he tell you their names?”

“No, or if he did, I forgot it long ago. But he told me another thing that I’ve often thought about since. He said that she, that man’s wife, was conceived in the old Gasworks on Raudararstigur. Down by Hlemmur. At least that was what they said. Just like they said Benjamin killed his wife. His fiancee, I mean.”

“Benjamin? The Gasworks? What are you talking about?” Erlendur had completely lost his thread. “Did people say Benjamin killed his fiancee?”

“Some thought so. At the time. He said so himself.”

“That he killed her?”

“That people thought he’d done something to her. He didn’t say that he killed her. He’d never have told me that. I didn’t know him in the slightest. But he was sure that people suspected him and I remember there was some talk of jealousy.”

“Gossip?”

“All gossip of course. We thrive on it. Thrive on saying nasty things about other people.”

“And wait a minute, what was that about the Gasworks?”

“That’s the best rumour of all. Haven’t you heard it? People thought the end of the world was nigh so they had an all-night orgy in the Gasworks. Several babies were born afterwards and this woman was one of them, or so Benjamin thought. They were called the doomsday kids.”

Erlendur looked at Elinborg, then back at Hoskuldur.

“Are you pulling my leg?”

Hoskuldur shook his head.

“It was because of the comet. People thought it would collide with Earth.”

“What comet?”

“Halley’s comet, of course!” the know-it-all almost shouted, outraged by Erlendur’s ignorance. “Halley’s comet! People thought the Earth would collide with it and be consumed in hellfire!”

Earlier that day Elinborg had located Benjamin’s fiancee’s sister, and when she and Erlendur left Hoskuldur she told him she wanted to talk to her. Erlendur nodded, saying that he was going to the National Library to try to find newspaper articles about Halley’s comet. Like most know-it-alls, as it turned out, Hoskuldur did not know much about what really happened. He went round in circles until Erlendur could not be bothered to listen any more and took his leave, rather curtly.

“What do you think about what Hoskuldur was saying?” Erlendur asked her when they got back to the car.

“That Gasworks business is preposterous,” Elinborg said. “It’ll be interesting to see what you can find out about it. But of course what he said about gossip is perfectly true. We take a special delight in telling nasty stories about other people. The rumour says nothing about whether Benjamin was actually a murderer, and you know that.”

“Yes, but what’s that idiom again? No smoke without fire?”

“Idioms,” Elinborg muttered. “I’ll ask his sister. Tell me another thing. How’s Eva Lind doing?”

“She’s just lying in bed. Looks as though she’s peacefully sleeping. The doctor told me to talk to her.”

“Talk to her?”

“He thinks she can hear voices through her coma, and that’s good for her.”

“So what do you talk to her about?”

“Nothing much,” Erlendur said. “I have no idea what to say.”

The sister of Benjamin’s fiancee had heard the rumours, but flatly denied that there was any truth in them. Her name was Bara and she was considerably younger than the one who had gone missing. She lived in a large detached house in Grafarvogur, still married to a wealthy wholesaler and living in luxury, which was manifested in flamboyant furniture, the expensive jewellery she wore and her condescending attitude towards the detective who was now in her sitting room. Elinborg, who had outlined over the phone what she wanted to talk about, thought that this woman had never had to worry about money, always granted herself whatever she pleased and never had to associate with anyone but her own type. Probably gave up caring for anything else long ago. She had the feeling that this was the life that had awaited Bara’s sister, around the time she disappeared.

“My sister was extremely fond of Benjamin, which I never really understood. He struck me as a crushing bore. No lack of breeding, of course. The Knudsens are the oldest family in Reykjavik. But he wasn’t the exciting type.”

Elinborg smiled. She didn’t know what she meant. Bara noticed.

“A dreamer. Hardly ever came down to earth, what with his big ideas for the retailing business, which actually all came to pass years ago, although he didn’t live to benefit from them. And he was kind to ordinary people. His maids didn’t need to call him Sir. People have stopped that now. No courtesy any more. And no maids.”

Bara wiped imaginary dust from the coffee table. Elinborg noticed some large paintings at one end of the room, separate portraits of Bara and her husband. The husband looked quite glum and worn out, his thoughts miles away. Bara seemed to have an insinuating grin on her strict face and Elinborg could not help thinking that she had emerged from this marriage the victor. She pitied the man in the painting.

“But if you think he killed my sister, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” Bara said. “Those bones you said were found by the chalet are not hers.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“I just know. Benjamin would never have hurt a fly. An awful wimp. A dreamer, as I said. That was obvious when she disappeared. The man fell apart. Stopped caring about his business. Gave up socialising. Gave up everything. Never got over it. My mother gave him back the love letters he sent to my sister. She read some of them, said they were beautiful.”

“Were you and your sister close?”

“No, I can’t say that. I was so much younger. She already seemed grown-up in my earliest memories of her. Our mother always said she was like our father. Whimsical and tetchy. Depressive. He went the same way.”

Bara gave the impression she had let out the last sentence by mistake.

“The same way?” Elinborg said.

“Yes,” Bara said peevishly. “The same way. Committed suicide.” She spoke the words with complete detachment. “But he didn’t go missing like her. Oh no. He hanged himself in the dining room. From the hook for the chandelier. In full view of everyone. That was how much he cared about the family.”

“That must have been difficult for you,” Elinborg said for the sake of saying something. Bara glared accusingly at Elinborg from where she sat facing her, as if blaming her for having to recall it all.

“It was hardest for my sister. They were very close. It leaves its mark on people, that sort of thing. The dear girl.”

For a moment there was a trace of sympathy in her voice.

“Was it…?”

“This was a few years before she herself went missing,” Bara said, and Elinborg could tell that she was concealing something. That her story was rehearsed. Purged of all emotion. But perhaps the woman was simply like that. Bossy, cold-hearted and dull.

“To his credit, Benjamin treated her well,” Bara continued. “Wrote her love letters, that sort of thing. In those days, people in Reykjavik would go for long walks when they were engaged. A very ordinary courtship really. They met at Hotel Borg, which was the place in those days, they called on each other and went for walks and travelled, and it developed from there just as with young people everywhere. He proposed to her and the wedding was only a fortnight away, I would guess, when she disappeared.”

“I’m told that people said she threw herself into the sea,” Elinborg said.

“Yes, people made quite a meal of that story. They looked for her all over Reykjavik. Dozens of people took part in the search, but they didn’t find so much as a hair. My mother broke the news to me. My sister left us that morning. She was going shopping and went to a few places, there weren’t as many shops in those days, but she didn’t buy anything. She met Benjamin in his shop, left him and was never seen again. He told the police, and us, that they quarrelled. That’s why he blamed himself for what happened and took it so badly.”