Daníel wondered about the woman whose door they had knocked at first – Olga. There was no doubt that seeing them had taken her by surprise, and there had been an odd look on her face as she shut the door, and then came back a moment later, and had been perfectly sweet. She must have rushed to flush a stash of grass down the toilet, he decided. He had noticed over the last few years that more and more older people smoked dope, either because it was something they had done in their younger years, or because of the debate about how effective it was for pain relief. It wasn’t like in the old days, when hard liquor and snuff were what the older generation preferred. His grandmother had taken snuff, and he remembered how much fun it had been when he was a child to sneak a few grains from her, which would result in a colossal sneeze that they would both laugh over.

There wasn’t a lot to be gained from talking to Olga. She said the last time she had seen Ísafold had been more than three weeks ago, not that she was sure exactly when, but she had asked Björn about her and had been told she was away visiting relatives in Britain.

He saw Violet take a deep breath as they knocked at Björn’s door. Daníel had felt this wasn’t a sensible thing to do. If the conclusion was that Ísafold’s disappearance was suspicious, then Björn would naturally be at the top of the list of suspects, so it would be better to leave him be. The police could deal with him – which meant the police who were on duty, not one who was on holiday. But Violet had been adamant that they should approach all the neighbours, including Björn, and that there was nothing unusual in the man’s mother-in-law wanting a word with him. Daníel saw his role as providing support for Violet, and holding up his police ID in Björn’s face wouldn’t do any harm, and might give him something to worry about.161

Björn came to the door exactly as Daníel had expected, surly and sulky. His appearance was a long way from the one he conjured up in the Facebook pictures of himself with Ísafold, where his white teeth were pearly white, his dark, dreamy eyes sparkling with fun. The man in person was pale and dishevelled, his face puffy.

‘Aren’t you going to invite your mother-in-law in?’ Violet asked, the peculiarly British disgust clear in her voice.

‘Not if you’re bringing that with you,’ Björn said, and jerked a thumb in Daníel’s direction. ‘I might have asked you in if you hadn’t brought the cop with you, and if you were still my kind-of mother-in-law.’