Grímur hadn’t been awake long when Olga from upstairs knocked on his door. He couldn’t have slept any longer, yet he was exhausted, and every atom of his body ached. He had spent the previous evening thoroughly cleaning the car again, and had taken pictures so that he could put it up for sale online. He no longer needed it; the car had done its work. He’d price it attractively for a quick sale, and he would fill in the paperwork himself and send it off. The fewer people who had anything to do with it, the better.

The bathroom was more of a problem. He would have to start by cleaning it exceptionally well, then the cash from the sale of the car could go into a complete makeover. The tiles would have to go, the washing machine would have to be removed, the walls and ceiling would need painting and tiling all over again, and he’d need a new washer and dryer.

There had been much more blood than he had anticipated. He had expected this to be a bloodless killing, for it to be neat, if that was the right way to describe it. But murder was never neat, of course; it had been harder than he had imagined. Björn had been agitated and hadn’t wanted the beer Grímur had offered when he had seen him on the stairs. But when he said he had a few things to tell Björn about his girlfriend, he took the bait, followed him in, and accepted the beer. He had been flushed, his eyes flashing back and forth around the flat, and couldn’t be persuaded to sit down. It was clear that the incident with the ring in the restaurant had upset him deeply.

‘What have you got to tell me?’ he demanded, pushing the can of beer aside.

Grímur mumbled something about knowing a thing or two about Kristín’s past, but was then unable to think of anything that 237might get Björn to sit down and drink his beer – the beer Grímur had laced with the ketamine he had bought from Björn himself.

Björn had turned, snorting with disgust as he headed for the door, making it plain he had no interest in Grímur or anything he might have to say. So Grímur had no choice but to knock him out with the statuette of Venus de Milo. It was a decision taken on the spur of the moment; the statuette was close at hand, and heavy enough for a decent knockout blow.