In a flat near Reykjavik city centre, a young man lies dead in a pool of blood although there are no signs of a break-in or any struggle. A purple shawl, found under the bed, gives off a strong and unusual aroma. A vial of narcotics found in the victim's pocket among other clues soon lead Erlendur's colleagues down a trail of hidden violence, psychological brutality and of wrongs that will never be fully righted.

Translated from the Icelandic.