Reykjavik Nights

21

Erlendur slept until late the following afternoon, then went out to Skúlakaffi for a meal. As he ate, his thoughts turned to Thurí. He was anxious to take a look at the earring, so he kept an eye out for her on his way to meet Rebekka outside the doctor’s surgery. The day was hot and still; the sun rode high in the sky and people were making the most of the weather as they wandered through the streets and squares in summery clothes. While he waited outside the surgery, Erlendur looked up the slope to Bakarabrekka where a huddle of old wooden houses had fallen into ruin. A debate was raging as to whether they should be demolished to make way for new buildings or renovated and preserved for their historical interest.

‘You came,’ said a voice behind him. It was Rebekka.

‘Yes, hello.’

‘I was wondering, would you like to take a walk round the lake? The weather’s so good, and I’ve been stuck inside all day.’

They strolled south along Lækjargata, rounded the corner by the old Idnó Theatre and saw a group of parents and small children feeding the ducks. The birds quacked and splashed, squabbling over the pieces of bread, while the children tried to throw scraps to the ones that hung back.

They walked on with the sun in their eyes, along the lake to the park. Arctic terns swarmed above the little island in the lake, fighting a losing battle with the black-headed gulls.

‘There are fewer and fewer of them every year,’ remarked Rebekka. ‘The gulls are so aggressive.’

‘There are plenty of terns out on Seltjarnarnes,’ said Erlendur. ‘Perhaps they can take refuge there.’

‘Anything new on Hannibal?’ asked Rebekka after a pause.

‘Not much,’ Erlendur admitted. ‘Did you hear about the fire?’

‘What fire?’

‘Not long before your brother died the cellar he was sleeping in caught fire. He was thrown out because the owner thought he was to blame.’

‘Was he?’

‘It seems unlikely. He told me he was afraid of fire — actively afraid of setting the place alight. And I learned recently that the men who lived next door might have had their own reasons for wanting to get rid of him. You didn’t know about any of that?’

‘No, as I said, I hadn’t been in touch with Hannibal for years. Until the police told me, I had no idea he’d been living in the pipeline.’

‘He moved there after losing his room in the cellar.’

‘I did go looking for him once — about three years ago — down at the Fever Hospital. They told me he turned up from time to time, but he was almost always drunk so there was nothing they could do for him.’

‘Did you want to find him for any special reason?’

‘No, not really. I used to try and look him up every now and then, even after I finally gave up on him. Wanted to know how he was doing. But they couldn’t tell me where he was living.’

They reached the park. Rebekka perched on a bench and Erlendur sat down beside her.

‘I’m ashamed to say it, but I wasn’t particularly surprised when I heard Hannibal was dead. Even if the circumstances weren’t what I expected, I knew sooner or later he’d die somewhere, homeless and destitute. When the police rang, I sensed it was about him, that it was all over. I’d been expecting the call for years. So, like I say, it didn’t come as a complete surprise.’

‘When did you last see him?’

‘I bumped into him in Austurvöllur Square. Completely by chance. He was with a group of other men in the same boat. He seemed all right then. At least, as far as I could tell he wasn’t that drunk or under the influence of drugs or whatever it was he was on.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘Nothing,’ said Rebekka. ‘We had nothing to say to each other. It was all over. Finished. Nothing left. Like two strangers trying to make polite conversation. It was a relief to both of us when we abandoned the attempt. He knew where I lived. I asked him to get in touch if ever he felt the urge, but...’

She gazed across the lake.

‘What?’

‘I felt... Thinking about it later I felt so sorry for him. No one had ever been allowed to pity him or show any sympathy. But that day... he seemed different, embarrassed, as if he was ashamed of himself. As if he didn’t want me to know how he was living. I’d never seen him behave that way before.’

‘How did he end up like that? What made him go off the rails?’

‘Our brother used to say it was gutlessness. It didn’t take him long to give up on Hannibal. He couldn’t handle what happened to him. The way he wasted his life.’

‘It must have been hard to watch.’

‘Do you believe Hannibal was murdered?’

‘I don’t know. There’s no reason to think so. What do you think made him end up like that?’

‘He never told you?’

‘What?’

‘About the accident?’

‘No, what accident?’

‘He had a weakness for alcohol — from the beginning, I think,’ she said. ‘Always had a problem with drink, but after that...’ She grimaced. ‘After that it was as if he couldn’t bear to be sober.’

‘What do you mean? After what?’

‘They let me go with them,’ said Rebekka. ‘He asked if I’d like to come. He was like that. Always thinking about other people. About me. If I hadn’t been with them it would almost certainly have turned out differently, so I suppose it was my fault.’

‘What was?’

‘What happened to her. I keep asking myself — was it because of me?’ Rebekka’s voice had dropped to a whisper. ‘I’ve never been able to answer that question.’

Erlendur waited for her to go on. Two swans swam past, eyeing them, then continued on their way.

‘My brother says Hannibal was weak,’ she said, picking up the thread at last. ‘He was always very hard on him. Before the accident too. His wife was Helena’s sister, you know. They married sisters. No doubt that had a lot to do with it. His wife never forgave Hannibal. You see, one day — it was a Saturday evening — nearly thirty years ago... he borrowed the car...’