Voices - By Arnaldur Indridason Page 0,1

the stabbing through the heart had finished him off. His hands had slash marks on them, as if he had tried to fight off the assailant. His trousers were down round his ankles. A condom hung from his penis.

'Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer,' Sigurdur Óli warbled, looking down at the body.

Elínborg hushed him.

In the room was a small wardrobe and the door was open. It contained folded trousers and sweaters, ironed shirts, underwear and socks. A uniform hung on a coat-hanger, navy blue with golden epaulettes and shiny brass buttons. A pair of smartly-polished black leather shoes stood beside the cupboard.

Newspapers and magazines were strewn over the floor. Beside the bed was a small table and lamp. On the table was a single book: A History of the Vienna Boys' Choir.

'Did he live here, this man?' Erlendur asked as he surveyed the scene. He and Elínborg had entered the room. Sigurdur Óli and the hotel manager were standing outside. It was too small for them all inside.

'We let him stay here,' the manager said awkwardly, mopping the sweat from his brow. 'He's been working for us for donkey's years. Since before my time. As a doorman.'

'Was the door open when he was found?' Sigurdur Óli asked, trying to be formal, as if to compensate for his little ditty.

'I asked her to wait for you,' the manager said. "The girl who found him. She's in the staff coffee room. Gave her quite a shock, poor thing, as you can imagine.' The manager avoided looking into the room.

Erlendur walked up to the body and peered at the wound to the heart. He had no idea what kind of blade had killed the man. He looked up. Above the bed was an old, faded poster for a Shirley Temple film, sellotaped at the corners. Erlendur didn't know the film. It was called The Little Princess. The poster was the only decoration in the room.

'Who's that?' Sigurdur Óli asked from the doorway as he looked at the poster.

'It says on it,' Erlendur said. 'Shirley Temple.'

'Who's that then? Is she dead?'

'Who's Shirley Temple?' Elinborg was astonished at Sigurdur Óli's ignorance. 'Don't you know who she was? Didn't you study in America?'

'Was she a Hollywood star?' Sigurdur Óli asked, still looking at the poster.

'She was a child star,' Erlendur said curtly. 'So she's dead in a sense anyway.'

'Eh?' Sigurdur Óli said, failing to grasp the remark.

'A child star,' Elínborg said. 'I think she's still alive. I don't remember. I think she's something with the United Nations'

It dawned on Erlendur that there were no other personal effects in the room. He looked around but could see no bookshelf, CDs or computer, no radio or television. Only a desk, chair, wardrobe and bed with a scruffy pillow and dirty duvet cover. The little room reminded him of a prison cell.

He went out into the corridor and peered into the darkness at the far end, and could make out a faint smell of burning, as if someone had been playing with matches there or possibly lighting their way.

'What's down there?' he asked the manager.

'Nothing,' he replied and looked up at the ceiling. 'Just the end of the corridor. A couple of bulbs have gone. I'll have that fixed.'

'How long had he lived here, this man?' Erlendur asked as he went back into the room.

'I don't know, since before my time.'

'So he was here when you became the manager?'

'Yes.'

'Are you telling me he lived in this hole for twenty years?'

'Yes.'

Elínborg looked at the condom.

'At least he practised safe sex,' she said.

'Not safe enough,' Sigurdur Óli said.

At that point the district medical officer arrived, accompanied by a member of the hotel staff who then went back along the corridor. The medical officer was very fat too, although nowhere near a match for the hotel manager. When he squeezed into the room, Elínborg darted back out for air.

'Hello, Erlendur,' the medical officer said.

'What does it look like?' Erlendur asked.

'Heart attack, but I need a better look,' replied the medical officer, who was known for his appalling sense of humour.

Erlendur looked out at Sigurdur Óli and Elínborg, who were grinning from ear to ear.

'Do you know when it happened?' Erlendur asked.

'Can't be very long ago. Some time during the last two hours. He's hardly begun to go cold. Have you located his reindeer?'

Erlendur groaned.

The medical officer lifted his hand from the body.

'I'll sign the certificate,' he said. 'You send it to the mortuary and they'll open him up there. They say that orgasm is