Thin Ice: An Inspector Gunna Mystery (Gunnhildur Mystery Book 5)

by Quentin Bates

  ‘Inga Jóna has kids of her own, but they’re grown up and they don’t think much of Árni, so there’s not much chance of any of them being in there.’

  ‘A stormy relationship? Do either of them drink?’

  The woman pursed her lips. ‘Let’s say that Árni wouldn’t knock your hand away.’

  ‘Drugs? Anything like that? Where does Árni work?’

  ‘He’s never done a lot of that, but he used to work at a garage up at Hellnahraun and he drives a taxi sometimes as well.’ The woman sniffed. ‘When he’s sober enough, that is.’

  ‘Your name?’

  ‘Hulda Benediktsdóttir.’

  Eiríkur wrote everything down and added the woman’s phone number.

  ‘I’ll give you a call when we know anything,’ he said, handing her a card. ‘That’s my number, so if you hear from either Árni or Inga Jóna, I’d appreciate it if you could let me know they’re safe.’

  The nighttime wind had howled, shaking the roof as they lay in their stiffly laundered hotel beds. Towards morning the wind had dropped, and when Magni rubbed his eyes and looked out of the front door in the daylight, he could see the slopes of the bowl of hills that surrounded Hotel Hraun on three sides white with snow. The yard and Erna’s pearly white Ford Explorer were also covered with a thick layer of snow, heaped into drifts around the car and anywhere there was a lee from the wind that brought the dry powder snow down from slopes higher up.

  The yard, enclosed on two sides by the hotel’s wide L-shape, was dotted with the meandering track of a fox, but what attracted Magni’s attention were parallel lines that ran along the edge of the yard, into it and around the Ford, before snaking back down the hill alongside the road. He pulled on his shoes and went outside, examining the trails and noticing that the snow had been roughly dusted off the car’s registration plate.

  ‘So we’ve had a visitor,’ he muttered to himself, before going back into the relative warmth of the echoing lobby and wondering whether or not to tell Össur.

  * * *

  Steini had left early, his pickup loaded with toolboxes, for a job that Gunna guessed would keep him happily deep in the bowels of a boat somewhere for the rest of the day. She was sitting on the sofa, revelling in being home alone with her shift not due to start until midday, when she realized that Laufey was at home as well.

  She turned up the radio and took the hated vacuum cleaner from its place in the cupboard by the door to run over the floor of the living room, expecting the noise to flush Laufey from sleep if she could keep it up long enough. But her dislike of anything more than the most essential housework won, and by the time Laufey emerged from her room, Gunna had retreated to the sofa with Steini’s iPad.

  ‘Cleaning up, Mum?’ Laufey asked, eyeing the vacuum cleaner propped against the wall.

  ‘Just the essentials, sweetheart. No more than that. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be at school today?’

  ‘Not until this afternoon. Can I get a lift with you?’

  ‘You can, but it means going early. I’m meeting Soffía this morning. That means I’m going at ten, not a moment later.’

  Laufey yawned again and nodded, vanishing into her room, and a moment later an insistent beat made its way through the thin panel, not loud enough to be worth complaining about, but not low enough to be easily ignored. Gunna dropped the iPad back on the table and returned to the vacuum cleaner, determined to at least make a dent in the housework.

  Erna dragged herself unwillingly from sleep, wondering why there was an unfamiliar duvet on the bed, then wondering why she was still wearing her clothes, before the previous day’s events came flooding back and she wanted to scream. The room’s other bed was empty, the covers thrown back, so Tinna Lind had to be up already. She sat on the bed and stared blankly at the wall, as if it might provide her with the answers she was desperate for.

  In the bathroom she found a tiny tube of toothpaste and scrubbed her teeth with a fingertip to get rid of the stale taste in her mouth. Her hair was a mess, she saw with dismay, and there was no brush or comb to be seen anywhere. There had been a hairbrush in her bag, but that had to be in the back of the car now.

  It was the smell of roasting meat coming up the stairs that reminded her how hungry she was. There had been brunch yesterday with Sunna on the 19th Floor, then they had gone to Hafnarfjördur to check out that new antique shop she had heard about, and after that there had been nothing but the awful drive in the dark with those two men. She shuddered at the thought of it.

  She went down the broad staircase with trepidation and her footsteps clicked on the tiles of the kitchen floor as the aroma of cooked meat drew her there. Tinna Lind and Magni sat at the table peeling potatoes and giggling at a joke.

  ‘Good morning.’

  ‘G’day, sleepyhead,’ Magni said with a grin. ‘The day’s half gone and you’re still snoring.’

  ‘I do not snore,’ Erna said in a tone that was intended to be cold but came across as hurt.

  ‘You know what I mean. Anyhow, there’s a roast dinner for breakfast, once the spuds are done. We had a little hunt around earlier and it looks like we could camp out here until the spring.’

  ‘I do hope not,’ Erna said, elbow on the table and the back of her hand to her forehead.

  ‘Not feeling well?’ Tinna Lind asked.

  ‘I have a headache.’ She sighed. ‘But I don’t suppose there are any painkillers anywhere?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ Magni said, forehead furrowed.

  ‘I had some in my bag, but it’s in the car. Magni, could you get the keys from your friend and fetch my bag, do you think?’

  ‘Sure.’

  As soon as Magni had gone, Erna hissed at Tinna Lind. ‘You still have your phone, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah. But there’s no signal here.’

  ‘Shit. Shit. Tinna, what the hell are we going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know, mother. I really don’t know. But so far I’m enjoying the ride.’

  Össur hadn’t slept late, woken by his jangling nerves and an unwelcome dream of Alli the Cornershop snarling at him. He’d spent the night in Hotel Hraun’s bridal suite in the biggest bed he’d ever slept in, but still found himself in the morning along a narrow strip at one edge instead of spreadeagled as he’d intended to be, making the most of the downy expanse of it.

  He counted the money and, to make sure, he counted it again. Two hundred and eighty thousand euros in mixed, mostly two- and five-hundred denominations, left him with a warm feeling of satisfaction that evaporated when he remembered that if their plans had gone as intended, he would be on a beach in Spain now, with Magni lost somewhere along the way.

  The heist had been timed to perfection. They had just enough time for Árni to drop them off outside the airport at Keflavík for the charter holiday in Spain that Össur had no intention of returning from for a long time. As the leader, he naturally kept hold of the cash, which he was going to stow in his baggage, not that either of them had planned on taking much. His own plan was to disappear among the throng of rowdy British and German holidaymakers at the airport in Alicante before making his way down the coast to somewhere he could enjoy the cash by himself. Company wouldn’t be a problem for a man with a quarter of a million euros in his pocket.

  He cursed Árni once again and wondered what had happened to him. Something must have come up, or else he had simply been late and missed them? It wasn’t easy to tell with Árni. It was different with Magni, who wasn’t really a criminal. The big guy had no qualms about squashing someone’s nose when it was needed, but he’d have been just as happy grafting for a living if the trawler he’d worked on hadn’t been sold to a Russian company, leaving the crew redundant and the less prudent among them flat broke.

  Instead of lounging in the Mediterranean sunshine next to a blonde beauty with expensive tits and cheekbones you could cut yourself on, without a care in the world, for a few months at least, Össur ground his teeth that he was now stranded in
an empty hotel miles from anywhere, wondering if the police were looking for him; or worse still, if both the police and a furious dealer with a score to settle might be searching for him. He brooded that Alli the Cornershop’s boys would undoubtedly be hunting for him and, given the choice, he’d prefer to take his chances with the law, although that would end with a year or two in Litla Hraun, where Alli was certain to have friends keen to do the skinny old man a favour. Punishment had merely been deferred, he decided, unless there was a way of getting on another flight to somewhere warm. Hell, he decided, it didn’t have to be anywhere warm, just somewhere nobody knew him. Were there still flights from Akureyri? Surely Alli the Cornershop wouldn’t have heavies looking for him up north?

  Then there was the thought of what to do with the baggage downstairs, slow-witted Magni and those two women. The girl seemed all right, and something of a looker in a grungy kind of way, but he shuddered and told himself he wouldn’t climb over the girl to get to her sour-faced mother. A neat enough figure and the good bits in all the right places, but definitely a snobbish bitch, used to getting her own way and the best of everything. He might have to give her another slap, he decided, but he’d wait until the moment was right. There was no point in letting the damned woman get too full of herself and start bossing him around.

  He yawned, stretched and tossed the useless TV remote back on the bed. No phone coverage, no TV and only boring old steam radio. A cable coming down the wall told him that the hotel usually had cable TV, but with the place closed down for the winter, it had presumably been switched off. Well, maybe they could find a way to switch it on again. At least that way they could stay indefinitely, or at any rate as long as the contents of the freezer lasted, and by that time Alli the Cornershop might have given up looking for him, although he reminded himself with discomfort that the two women would be missed soon, if they hadn’t already been reported missing by a husband or a father. He’d have to ask them, he decided as he reached for his trousers, noticing the bag of Alli’s best quality grass and deciding to roll himself a joint to settle his nerves.

  It was almost like a family dinner. Magni effortlessly disposed of half the leg of lamb that came out of the oven, fragrant and studded with garlic, surrounded on his plate with potatoes mashed with butter and flooded with thick gravy.

  ‘You cooked this?’ Erna asked, surprise in her voice.

  ‘Yep,’ Magni said with his mouth full. ‘It’s not difficult, this cooking stuff. Used to cook on a boat,’ he explained.

  Erna picked delicately at her food, pushing morsels onto the back of her fork. Tinna Lind shovelled meat and potatoes down with enthusiasm, while Össur ate the meat and left everything else.

  ‘You won’t grow up to have curly hair if you don’t eat your spuds,’ Magni told him, leaning back in his chair and belching. Erna blanched.

  ‘How much food is there here?’

  ‘Enough for a few days, I reckon. But not enough to waste,’ he added, nodding towards the potatoes and peas left on Össur’s plate.

  ‘I don’t eat green shit.’

  Magni shrugged. ‘Depends how hungry we get, doesn’t it?’ He grinned. ‘Who’s washing up then?’

  ‘Up to you. I don’t eat green shit and I don’t do dishes,’ Össur announced, tapping a cigarette from its packet and lighting up.

  ‘Do you have to?’ Erna coughed and waved a hand as smoke stole across the table towards her. ‘And how long are we going to have to stay here?’

  ‘As long as I say,’ Össur said quietly, meeting her look.

  Erna held his eyes and then faltered, dropping her gaze to the floor. ‘And how long’s that?’

  ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

  ‘A day? A week?’

  Her voice was becoming shrill and Tinna Lind laid a hand on her arm.

  ‘Mum . . .’

  ‘I mean,’ Erna said, standing up, an accusing finger pointed at Össur. ‘It’s intolerable. We’ve been kidnapped on the street. Abducted and brought to this . . . this place,’ she said in disgust. ‘With two common criminals.’

  ‘Sit down,’ Össur said, his voice dropping almost to a whisper and his mouth hardening into a thin line.

  ‘I will not. It’s a disgrace. We live in a democracy. Not some stupid banana place in Africa or somewhere. I demand to know what’s going to happen to us.’

  Her voice had risen to a shriek, and Tinna Lind stood up and put an arm around her shoulders.

  ‘Mum, please. Calm down. You’re not doing yourself any good.’

  Össur glared. ‘Sit the fuck down, will you?’ He took the pistol from his pocket and weighed it in his hand, clicking the safety catch on and off with his thumb. Magni went pale and looked from Össur to Erna and back.

  ‘Hey, man. Calm down. The lady’s upset, all right? She’ll get over it.’

  ‘I will not get over it!’ Erna yelled at the top of her voice. ‘What’s going on? Why are we here? I don’t even believe that’s a real gun and I’ve a good mind to just walk out the door this minute.’

  ‘Go on,’ Össur hissed, ‘try it. See what happens.’

  Erna stood up and stalked towards him, her hands on her hips, glaring down at him from the extra height two inches of heels gave her while Össur sat still, looking up at her from under heavy lids.

  ‘I don’t believe you. I think you’re a petty, thieving conman, and I don’t believe for a second that you’d dare carry a gun if it was real. I’ve half a mind to give you a slap and go to that phone in the lobby and call the police.’

  The report was deafening, and as the smoke cleared there was a rattling of metal from one of the cupboards. Össur had fired without taking his eyes from Erna’s face and he watched her expression dissolve from fury into disbelief as her hands went to her mouth.

  ‘God . . .’ she whispered.

  They looked to see a hole punched neatly in the cupboard door while Erna gradually sank to the floor on her knees.

  ‘I think the lady . . .’ Össur said with a sneer. ‘The lady has had a shock. So maybe she’d feel better if she went to lie down for a while?’

  Gunna scooped Ari Gíslason up from the floor and the little boy squealed with excitement as she tickled him.

  ‘He’s a big lad now.’

  ‘He is,’ Soffía agreed, and the smile on her face beneath the pile of red curls made Gunna stop for a second and think of what could have been if Soffía and Gísli had stayed together. ‘Getting bigger all the time, and he looks more like Gísli every day.’

  Ari sat on Gunna’s lap, his plump feet splayed wide as he played with a set of coloured blocks on the table in front of him.

  ‘Talking yet?’

  ‘He’s trying to. There are a few words coming through, along with the teeth.’

  ‘How are things? You’re doing all right?’

  ‘I’m fine, Gunna,’ Soffía assured her. ‘We’re doing just fine and there’s nothing to worry about. How’s Gísli?’

  Gunna pursed her lips and helped Ari place a red block on top of a blue one. ‘I’m not really sure. We’re not communicating as well as we used to. In fact, I seem to speak to you more than I do to Gísli these days.’

  ‘He probably thinks you’re pissed off with him.’

  ‘And he’d be right.’

  ‘How’s Drífa? It must be tough for her.’

  ‘She’s all right. She’s a sweet enough girl and she’ll be fine when she’s done a little more growing up. It’s a shame she’s been pitched into it all a little too young.’

  Soffía smiled sadly. ‘I couldn’t say. I only met her once, and that was just for a minute when they collected Ari a few weeks ago, but she seems to be a sensible enough type.’

  Gunna rearranged Ari, who was fiddling with the buttons on her jacket, the bricks on the table forgotten, and sat him on one thigh as he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

  ‘Are you tired, little man?’ Gunna cooed and suddenly had an uncomfortable vision of her own mother saying the same t
hing to Gísli as a baby. ‘Hell, I’m really slipping into the granny stereotype, aren’t I?’ she asked ruefully.

  ‘You?’ Soffía laughed. ‘Never!’

  ‘Anyhow, it’s a delight to see my little grandson, but unfortunately I have to go and catch villains for the rest of the day.’

  She planted a kiss on the little boy’s cheek and he squirmed in her grasp as she lifted and passed him to Soffía.

  ‘Gísli’s collecting him for the weekend tomorrow morning, so you’ll see him again soon enough.’

  ‘I know, but you know what we grandmothers are like.’

  Soffía looked suddenly awkward and Gunna sensed a change in her.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Well, we might be moving away.’

  ‘Ah. Far?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet,’ Soffía said, and Gunna could see her chewing her lip uncertainly.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘You know I’m graduating this year? Well, I’ve applied to do a master’s at Lund.’

  ‘In Sweden?’

  ‘Yep. Two years, I expect. You look dubious,’ Soffía said, trying to gauge the expression on Gunna’s face.

  ‘I couldn’t stop you, and I wouldn’t want to,’ Gunna said. ‘Even though it means you’re taking this little man away for a while. Does Gísli know?’

  ‘No. That’s what I’m worried about. He might not agree to me taking Ari out of the country. He doesn’t have to.’

  Gunna nodded. ‘Want me to have a word with the boy?’

  ‘Please. If you would.’

  ‘What the fuck did you do that for?’ Magni demanded once Erna had gone upstairs with Tinna Lind supporting her.

  ‘You saw what was happening. I don’t take that shit from anyone.’

  ‘You didn’t have to make the bloody woman piss herself with fright, did you?’

  Össur shrugged.

  ‘Look, what the hell are we going to do? Are you planning on staying here for days or weeks, or what?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when I’ve made up my mind.’

  ‘OK, you do what you like. Hand over my share and I’ll walk it.’