“Who’s that?” Sigurdur Oli asked from the doorway as he looked at the poster.

“It says on it,” Erlendur said. “Shirley Temple.”

“Who’s that then? Is she dead?”

“Who’s Shirley Temple?” Elinborg was astonished at Sigurdur Oli’s ignorance. “Don’t you know who she was? Didn’t you study in America?”

“Was she a Hollywood star?” Sigurdur Oli asked, still looking at the poster.

“She was a child star,” Erlendur said curtly. “So she’s dead in a sense anyway.”

“Eh?” Sigurdur Oli said, failing to grasp the remark.

“A child star,” Elinborg said. “I think she’s still alive. I don’t remember. I think she’s something with the United Nations”

It dawned on Erlendur that there were no other personal effects in the room. He looked around but could see no bookshelf, CDs or computer, no radio or television. Only a desk, chair, wardrobe and bed with a scruffy pillow and dirty duvet cover. The little room reminded him of a prison cell.

He went out into the corridor and peered into the darkness at the far end, and could make out a faint smell of burning, as if someone had been playing with matches there or possibly lighting their way.

“What’s down there?” he asked the manager.

“Nothing,” he replied and looked up at the ceiling. “Just the end of the corridor. A couple of bulbs have gone. I’ll have that fixed.”

“How long had he lived here, this man?” Erlendur asked as he went back into the room.

“I don’t know, since before my time.”

“So he was here when you became the manager?”

“Yes.”

“Are you telling me he lived in this hole for twenty years?”

“Yes.”

Elinborg looked at the condom.

“At least he practised safe sex,” she said.

“Not safe enough,” Sigurdur Oli said.

At that point the district medical officer arrived, accompanied by a member of the hotel staff who then went back along the corridor. The medical officer was very fat too, although nowhere near a match for the hotel manager. When he squeezed into the room, Elinborg darted back out for air.

“Hello, Erlendur,” the medical officer said.

“What does it look like?” Erlendur asked.

“Heart attack, but I need a better look,” replied the medical officer, who was known for his appalling sense of humour.

Erlendur looked out at Sigurdur Oli and Elinborg, who were grinning from ear to ear.

“Do you know when it happened?” Erlendur asked.

“Can’t be very long ago. Some time during the last two hours. He’s hardly begun to go cold. Have you located his reindeer?”

Erlendur groaned.

The medical officer lifted his hand from the body.

“I’ll sign the certificate,” he said. “You send it to the mortuary and they’ll open him up there. They say that orgasm is a kind of moment of death,” he added, looking down at the body. “So he had a double.”

“A double?” Erlendur didn’t understand him.

“Orgasm, I mean,” the medical officer said. “You’ll take photographs, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Erlendur said.

“They’ll look nice in his family album.”

“He doesn’t appear to have any family,” Erlendur said and looked around the room again. “So you’re done for the time being?” he asked, eager to put an end to the wisecracks.

The district medical officer nodded, squeezed back out of the room and went down the corridor.

“Won’t we have to close down the hotel?” Elinborg asked, and noticed the manager gasp at her question. “Stop all traffic in and out. Question everyone staying here and all the staff? Close the airports. Stop ships leaving port…”

“For God’s sake,” the manager groaned, squeezing his handkerchief with an imploring look at Erlendur. “It’s only the doorman!”

Mary and Joseph would never have been given a room here, Erlendur thought to himself.

“This … this … filth has nothing to do with my guests,” the manager spluttered with indignation. “They’re tourists, almost all of them, and regional people, businessmen and the like. No one who has anything to do with the doorman. No one. This is one of the largest hotels in Reykjavik. It’s packed over the holidays. You can’t just close it down! You just can’t!”

“We could, but we won’t,” Erlendur said, trying to calm the manager down. “We’ll need to question some of the guests and most of the staff, I expect.”

“Thank God,” the manager sighed, regaining his composure.

“What was the man’s name?”

“Gudlaugur,” the manager said. “I think he’s around fifty. And you’re right about his family, I don’t think he has any.”

“Who visited him?”

“I haven’t got a clue,” the manager puffed.

“Has anything unusual happened at the hotel involving this man?”

“No.”

“Theft?”

“No. Nothing’s happened.”

“Complaints?”

“No.”

“He hasn’t become embroiled in anything that could explain this?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Was he involved in any conflicts with anyone at this hotel?”

“Not that I know of

“Outside the hotel?”

“Not that I know of but I don’t know him very well. Didn’t,” the manager corrected himself.

“Not after twenty years?”

“No, not really. He wasn’t very sociable, I don’t think. Kept himself to himself as much as he could.”

“Do you think a hotel is the right place for a man like him?”

“Me? I don’t know … He was always very polite and there were never really any complaints about him.”

“Never really?”

“No, there were never any complaints about him. He wasn’t a bad worker really?

“Where’s the staff coffee room?” Erlendur asked.

“I’ll show you.” The hotel manager mopped his brow, relieved that they would not close the hotel.

“Did he have guests?” Erlendur asked.

“What?” the manager said.

“Guests,” Erlendur repeated. “It looks like someone who knew him was here, don’t you think?”

The manager looked at the body and his eyes dwelled on the condom.

“I don’t know anything about his girlfriends,” he said. “Nothing at all.”

“You don’t know very much about this man,” Erlendur said.

“He’s a doorman here,” the manager said, and felt that Erlendur should accept that by way of explanation.

They left the room. The forensics team went in with their equipment and more officers followed them. It was difficult for them all to squeeze their way past the manager. Erlendur asked them to examine the corridor carefully and the dark alcove further down. Sigurdur Oli and Elinborg stood inside the little room observing the body.

“I wouldn’t like to be found like that,” Sigurdur Oli said.

“It’s no concern of his any more,” Elinborg said.

“No, probably not,” Sigurdur Oh said.

“Is there anything in it?” Elinborg asked as she took out a little bag of salted peanuts. She was always nibbling at things. Sigurdur Oli thought it was because of nerves.

“In it?” Sigurdur Oli said.

She nodded in the direction of the body. After staring at her for a moment, Sigurdur Oli realised what she meant. He hesitated, then knelt down by the body and stared at the condom.

“No,” he said. “It’s empty”

“So she killed him before his orgasm,” Elinborg said. “The doctor thought—”

“She?” Sigurdur Oli said.

“Yes, isn’t that obvious?” Elinborg said, emptying a handful of peanuts into her mouth. She offered some to Sigurdur Oli, who declined. “Isn’t there something tarty about it? He’s had a woman in here,” she said. “Hasn’t he?”

“That’s the simplest theory,” Sigurdur Oli said, standing up.

“You don’t think so?” Elinborg said.

“I don’t know. I don’t have the faintest idea.”