“You know you must only interrogate children in the presence of a parent or guardian or child welfare officer and all that,” she snapped as she handed him his coat.

“I wasn’t interrogating him,” Erlendur said. “Just asking about things in general.” He looked at his overcoat. “Has the body been removed?”

“It’s on its way to the morgue. He didn’t fall. They found a trail.”

Erlendur grimaced.

“The boy entered the garden from the west side,” Elinborg said. “There’s a path there. It’s supposed to be lit but one of the residents told us there’s only one lamp-post and the bulbs are always getting smashed. He got into the garden by climbing over the fence. We found blood on it. He lost his boot there, probably when he was clambering over.”

Elinborg took a deep breath.

“Someone stabbed him,” she said. “He probably died from a knife wound to the stomach. There was a pool of blood underneath him that froze more or less directly it formed.”

Elinborg fell silent.

“He was probably going home,” she said eventually.

“Can we trace where he was stabbed?”

“We’re working on it.”

“Have his parents been contacted?”

“His mother’s on the way. Her name’s Sunee. She’s Thai. We haven’t told her what’s happened yet. That’ll be terrible.”

“You go and be with her,” Erlendur said. “What about the father?”

“I don’t know. There are three names on the entryphone. One looked something like Niran.”

“I understand he has a brother,” Erlendur said.

He opened the door for her and they went out into the howling north wind. Elinborg waited for the mother. She would go to the morgue with her. A policeman accompanied Stefan home; they would take a statement from him there. Erlendur went back into the garden. He put on his overcoat. The grass was dark where the boy had been lying.