Tainted Blood

4

The couple from Gardabaer looked at Erlendur with anguish in their eyes. Their little daughter had gone missing. They hadn’t heard from her for three days. Not since the wedding she’d run out from. Their little girl. Erlendur was imagining a child with curly golden locks until he was told she was a 23-year-old psychology student at the University of Iceland.

“The wedding?” Erlendur said, looking around the spacious lounge; it was like a whole storey of the block of flats where he lived.

“Her own wedding!” the father said as if he still couldn’t understand it. “The girl ran away from her own wedding!”

The mother put a crumpled handkerchief to her nose.

It was midday. Due to road works on the way from Reykjavik it had taken Erlendur half an hour to reach Gardabaer and he found the large detached house only after a considerable search. It was almost invisible from the street, enclosed by a large garden with all kinds of trees growing in it, up to six metres high. The couple met him in a clear state of shock.

Erlendur thought this was a waste of time. Other more important matters were waiting for him, but even though he’d hardly spoken to his ex-wife for two decades he still felt inclined to do her a favour.

The mother wore a smart, pale green dress suit, the father a black suit. He said he was growing increasingly worried about his daughter. He knew she would come home eventually and that she was safe and sound — he refused to believe otherwise — but he wanted to consult the police, although he didn’t see any reason to call out the search parties and rescue teams immediately or to send announcements to the radio, newspapers and television.

“She just disappeared,” the mother said. The couple looked a little older than Erlendur, probably about 60. They ran a business importing children’s wear and that provided for them amply to enjoy a prosperous lifestyle. The nouveaux riches. Age had treated them kindly. Erlendur noticed two new cars in front of their double garage, polished to a shine.

She braced herself and started to tell Erlendur the story. “It happened on Saturday — three days ago, my God how time flies — and it was such a wonderful day. They had just been married by that vicar who’s so popular.”

“Hopeless,” her husband said. “Came rushing in, delivered a few cliches and then he was off again with his briefcase. I can’t understand why he’s so popular.”

His wife wouldn’t let anything mar the beauty of the wedding.

“A marvellous day! Sunshine and lovely autumn weather. Definitely a hundred people at the church alone. She has so many friends. Such a popular girl. We held the reception at a hall here in Gardabaer. What’s that place called? I always forget.”

“Gardaholt,” the father said.

“Such a wonderful cosy place,” she went on. “We filled it. The hall, I mean. So many presents. And then when… then when…”

“They were supposed to dance the first dance,” the father continued when his wife burst into tears, “and that idiot of a boy was standing on the dance floor. We called out to Disa Ros, but she didn’t show up. We started looking for her, but it was as if the ground had opened up and swallowed her.”

“Disa Ros?” Erlendur said.

“It turned out that she’d taken the wedding car.”

“The wedding car?”

“The limousine. With the flowers and ribbons, that brought them from the church. She just ran away from the wedding. No warning! No explanation!”

“From her own wedding!” the mother shouted.

“And you don’t know what made her do that?”

“She obviously changed her mind,” the mother said. “Must have regretted the whole thing.”

“But why?” Erlendur said.

“Please, can you find her for us?” the father asked. “She hasn’t been in touch and you can see how terribly worried we are. The party was a total flop. The wedding was ruined. We’re completely stumped. And our little girl is missing.”

“The wedding car. Was it found?”

“Yes. In Gardastraeti.”

“Why there?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t know anyone there. Her clothes were in the car. Her proper clothes.”

Erlendur hesitated.

“Her proper clothes were in the wedding car?” he said eventually, briefly pondering the plane this conversation had dropped to and whether he was in some way responsible.

“She took off her wedding gown and put on the clothes she’d apparently kept in the car,” the wife said.

“Do you think you can find her?” the father asked. “We’ve contacted everyone she knows and no-one knows a thing. We just don’t know where to turn. I have a photo of her here.”

He handed Erlendur a school photograph of the young, beautiful blonde who was now in hiding. She smiled at him from the photograph.

“You have no idea what happened?”

“Not a clue,” the girl’s mother replied.

“None,” the father said.

“And these are the presents?” Erlendur looked at the gigantic dining table, piled high with colourful parcels, pretty bows, cellophane and flowers. He walked towards it as the couple watched. He’d never seen so many presents in his life and he wondered what was inside the parcels. Crockery and more crockery, he imagined.

What a life.

“And what’s this here?” he said, pointing to some offcuts from a tree that stood in a large vase at one end of the table. Heart-shaped red cards hung from the branches by ribbons.

“It’s a message tree.”

“A what?” Erlendur said. He’d only been to one wedding in his life and that was a long time ago. No message trees there.

“The guests write greetings to the bride and groom on cards and then hang them on the tree. A lot of cards had been hung up before Disa Ros went missing,” the mother said, still holding her handkerchief to her nose.

Erlendur’s mobile phone rang in his overcoat pocket. As he fumbled to get it, the phone got stuck in the opening and, instead of patiently working it loose, which would have been so easy, Erlendur tugged at it vigorously until the pocket gave way. The hand holding the phone flew back and sent the message tree flying to the floor. Erlendur looked at the couple apologetically and answered his phone.

“Are you coming with us to Nordurmyri?” Sigurdur Oli said without any preamble. “To take a better look at the flat.”

“Are you down there already?” Erlendur asked. He had withdrawn to one side.

“No. I’ll wait for you,” Sigurdur Oli said. “Where the hell are you?”

Erlendur hung up.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said to the couple. “I don’t think there’s any danger involved. Your daughter probably just lost her nerve and she’s staying with some friends. You shouldn’t worry too much. I’m sure she’ll ring before long.”

The couple bent down over the little cards that had fallen to the floor. He noticed that they had overlooked several cards that had slid under a chair and he bent down to pick them up. Erlendur read the greetings and looked at the couple.

“Had you seen this?” he asked and handed them the card.

The father read the message and a look of astonishment crossed his face. He handed the card to his wife. She read it over and again but didn’t seem to understand. Erlendur held out his hand for the card and read it again. The message was unsigned.

“Is this your daughter’s handwriting?” he asked.

“I think so,” the mother replied.

Erlendur turned the card over in his hands and reread the message: