Strange Shores

45

Erlendur could hear hammer blows coming from the shed below Ezra’s house. He had slept unusually well, until past two that afternoon, then made his routine trip to the swimming pool and afterwards enjoyed a late lunch of fresh poached haddock, potatoes and dark rye bread at the cafeteria. He had slathered the fish and potatoes with generous knobs of butter and spread a thick layer on the bread, as if piling on calories would banish the chill that still lingered in his bones after his night’s work.

He sauntered down to the shed. The door stood wide open and Ezra was sitting inside with his mallet, beating hardfiskur with the same unvarying rhythm. He didn’t notice Erlendur, who was at leisure to watch him for a minute or two. There was no sign of the shotgun. The old man appeared serene, yet his movements betrayed a certain firmness of purpose — unless it was simply force of habit.

‘You again?’ he said, without looking up. Although he had sensed Erlendur’s presence, he didn’t seem put out. ‘I have nothing else to tell you,’ he said. ‘You tricked the whole story out of me. I should never have told you any of it. I can’t understand why I did — you’ve no claim on me.’

‘No, neither can I,’ said Erlendur. ‘But the fact remains that you did.’

Ezra looked up. ‘Do you take me for a fool?’

‘No,’ said Erlendur. ‘If anyone’s a fool around here, it’s me.’

Ezra had raised his mallet to flatten a new fillet of fish that he had hooked out of the plastic bucket, but now he paused, lowered his hand and studied Erlendur.

‘How do you mean?’

‘I’m talking about your friend Jakob.’

‘What about him?’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Erlendur. ‘Is there any further detail you’d like to add to your story?’

‘No.’

‘Positive?’

‘Of course I am.’

‘I’m afraid that won’t do.’

Ezra put down the mallet, dropped the fish back into the bucket and stood up.

‘I have nothing to add,’ he said. ‘And I’ll thank you to leave me alone.’

He pushed past Erlendur out of the door and trudged up to the house with heavy steps, his shoulders bowed in his scruffy anorak, the ear flaps on his hat hanging loose. Erlendur hesitated, unsure if he wanted to open any more old wounds, doubtful that it was his place to do so. Ever since he had left Djúpivogur last night, he had been wondering whether he or anyone else would be the better for knowing what secrets Ezra was concealing about his dealings with Jakob. Erlendur had satisfied his own curiosity but this was none of his affair, even if he was a policeman. If Ezra was to be believed, the only crime that had been committed was Matthildur’s murder. What had been done with her body was a mystery that would probably never be solved. The case was not subject to a criminal investigation, nor was it likely to become so. It was up to Ezra whether he informed anyone or not. Erlendur would not insist that he did. Anyway, who would benefit if the truth came to light so many years after the event? Why rake up what was better left undisturbed? Best let sleeping dogs lie.

Erlendur had often wrestled with such questions over the years, but seldom reached a conclusion. Each case had to be considered on its own merits. He almost wished he had never started to pry into Ezra’s affairs, but it was too late now. He was in possession of knowledge that he could never forget, and it was natural that he should at least look for an explanation. It was not his aim to punish or to fill the prisons with unfortunate souls. His sole intention was to uncover the truth in every case, to track down what was lost and forgotten.

It was this goal that impelled him now to follow Ezra, with leaden feet, into the house. Ezra had not locked the door, and this ignited a spark of hope in Erlendur. He knew he could never provide the old man with absolution, but he could listen and try to understand. Unburdening himself about Matthildur appeared to have done him good. Ezra had allowed himself to talk, perhaps because Erlendur was a complete stranger, or because he sensed that he wouldn’t judge him.

‘Why did you follow me?’ Ezra asked. He was standing by the kitchen sink. ‘I asked you to leave me alone.’

His tone lacked conviction. Ezra turned his back on Erlendur and leaned over the sink to stare out of the window that overlooked the shed.

‘I wanted to talk some more about Jakob,’ said Erlendur.

‘Well, I have nothing more to say about him.’

‘Let me repeat my question: is there any further detail you’d like to add to your story?’

Ezra turned and met Erlendur’s eye.

‘Would you please leave?’ he said. ‘I beg you. Go away. I have nothing more to say to you. I’ve told you everything I’m prepared to say.’

‘Did Jakob have buck teeth?’

‘What?’

‘I haven’t seen any pictures of him but my impression is that his teeth stuck out.’

‘You could put it like that,’ Ezra said, nonplussed. ‘You want to discuss dentistry now?’

‘Maybe. What happened when he died?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Was he dead when they brought him to you at the ice house?’

Ezra gaped. ‘Of course he was.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely,’ said Ezra. ‘Both men were certified dead.’

‘The doctor wasn’t local.’

‘No, he wasn’t from round here.’

‘He did a short stint as a locum for your GP. He didn’t bother to examine the bodies very closely, did he?’

‘I’m not a doctor,’ protested Ezra. ‘And you seem to know much more than me. Look, I’ve no idea what you’re on about and I want you to leave.’

‘Then let me explain,’ said Erlendur. ‘It suddenly struck me that you were at the ice house the day Jakob was brought in. They assumed he’d drowned, like his companion. Perhaps the doctor was lousy at his job. Perhaps he thought he could get away with examining only one of them properly, since they were both in the same condition. Perhaps he didn’t listen carefully enough for Jakob’s heartbeat. I don’t know if you’re aware but at very low temperatures the heartbeat slows right down. All the bodily functions slow down and respiration becomes very shallow. An inattentive doctor could have failed to notice that Jakob was still alive.’

‘I don’t follow you,’ said Ezra.

‘That’s why I went over to Djúpivogur yesterday. Because Jakob was buried there. I spoke to a nice old bloke, Thórdur — maybe you know him? Thórdur told me about an extraordinary case of survival in freezing temperatures and it occurred to me that you might remember the story of the three men from the west, whose bodies were pulled from the sea. They froze to death in a warehouse that night because no one had realised they were still alive.’

Ezra regarded him in silence.

‘I also spoke to the daughter of the man who believed he heard a noise coming from Jakob’s coffin when it was lowered into the grave. Sound familiar?’

No response.

‘Still don’t know what I’m talking about?’

‘No.’

‘Her father got into a hell of a lot of trouble for mentioning it and later regretted ever having made such a foolish claim. But when I put all these facts together, it came to me that I ought to stop by the cemetery and take a look at Jakob’s grave.’

Ezra did not react.

‘The story about you and Matthildur really got to me, Ezra — what Jakob did to her; what he did to you. I can imagine the torment you’ve been through. So my mind started running on how even the best of men can commit terrible acts of retaliation, can find themselves capable of appalling crimes.’

Ezra turned away and stared out of the window at the shed again. The door was open and swung a little in the breeze, the rusty hinges squeaking.

‘They justify it to themselves as revenge,’ continued Erlendur.

‘I don’t understand why you won’t leave me alone,’ said Ezra in a low voice.

‘I couldn’t get it out of him. That’s what you told me.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘When I asked you if he’d told you where Matthildur was. We were talking about Jakob’s body being brought in after the shipwreck. You said: I couldn’t get it out of him. Was that in the ice house?’

‘I haven’t a clue what you’re on about.’

‘Was he still alive?’

No answer.

‘I dug up Jakob’s coffin,’ said Erlendur.

Slowly, Ezra turned from the window, looking as if he was not sure he had heard right.

‘I opened it up.’

Ezra looked aghast.

‘I had to know,’ said Erlendur. ‘I had to know what happened. I couldn’t help myself.’

‘Are you out of your mind?’ Ezra gasped. ‘Do you think I’d believe such a crazy lie? Get out of here right now and stop persecuting me! This is the final straw.’ He raised his voice. ‘I thought I could trust you but this is madness. Madness! Stop it at once.’

‘I knew you wouldn’t believe me so I brought you a pair of little objects that I found in the coffin,’ said Erlendur, reaching into his pocket. ‘I don’t know if you’ll recognise them.’

He walked over to where Ezra was standing and placed the contents of his pocket on the worktop.

At first Ezra’s gaze seemed riveted to his, then he looked down. He frowned, unable to work out what Erlendur had placed there.

‘What. . what are they?’ he whispered.

‘Look closer,’ said Erlendur.

Ezra bent and examined the minute objects. There were two of them: small, grey and somehow familiar, yet he couldn’t think what they were. They looked like small, oddly shaped pebbles.

‘What are they?’ he repeated.

‘He tore at the coffin lid with all his strength,’ said Erlendur.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t you recognise them?’

‘No,’ said Ezra, ‘I don’t. Please, tell me what they are.’

‘His teeth,’ said Erlendur. ‘Jakob’s front teeth. They were lying beside him in the coffin.’