Chilled to the Bone

by Quentin Bates

  ‘I’m looking after it, all right? Isn’t that good enough?’

  ‘Hey, calm down, man. I know Ægir’s an arsehole, but he has every right to be worried.’

  ‘It’s in hand, I keep telling you.’

  ‘You’re sure, Jóel Ingi? With one of your brother’s mates looking after this?’

  Jóel Ingi looked about quickly. ‘What the fuck else can I do?’ he hissed furiously. ‘Tell Ægir that some bitch stole my laptop?’

  ‘Bitch? You said it was a couple of lads.’

  ‘Ach, to hell with it. Forget it. Forget I said anything. I’ll get it fixed and that’ll be all.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Már said with doubt in his voice. ‘When? How long’s this going to take?’

  ‘Soon.’

  ‘Yeah, but how soon? I’m fending Ægir off here, but I can’t do it for much longer. He wants you spilling your guts to some flat-footed detective who has no idea what’s on your hard drive.’

  ‘A couple of days.’

  ‘Make it soon. Otherwise there are going to be some cops here asking you awkward questions.’

  It hadn’t taken long to find the address. Ten minutes with the national registry confirmed for Baddó that Hekla Elín Hauksdóttir existed, gave him her national registration number and date of birth, as well as her address, not to mention the interesting information that Pétur Steinar Albertsson lived at the same address, along with Sif Pétursdóttir, Albert Haukur Pétursson and Alda Björk Pétursdóttir.

  Baddó calculated and worked out that Albert and Alda must be Pétur and Hekla’s children, but Sif was possibly too old at seventeen. Two small children with the same date of birth and a teenager? A stepdaughter, maybe, from Pétur’s previous relationship. He smiled in satisfaction at how easy it was to find someone in Iceland once you had the name as a starting point, and how straightforward it could be to work out who is who.

  Cross-referencing Pétur Steinar Albertsson’s name with the online phone book even gave Baddó the home phone number and a mobile number; he wondered whether a phone call posing as a salesman of some kind would be a good way of spying out the land.

  He switched on his mobile, called the landline number and let it ring a couple of times before he gave up and keyed in the mobile number instead.

  ‘Hi. This is Hekla. I can’t take your call right now. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you,’ the voicemail intoned and he ended the call without saying anything. The voice was warm and soft, and listening to it almost put him at ease. In fact it was even vaguely familiar and he wondered where he might have heard it before. For a moment he toyed with the idea of calling again, just to hear the voice, but decided against it, telling himself not to be so soft.

  Disappointingly, he had to drive all the way out to Kjalarnes, a little suburb beyond the fringes of the city that he’d forgotten even existed. That required wheels, which would mean either finding some or else borrowing María’s car, but that would have to wait until the morning, he decided. He’d already worked hard enough today for Hinrik the Herb’s money. He felt like an afternoon off and wondered if Ebba could be persuaded to take a few hours off as well.

  ‘And what do we have, dear boy?’ Gunna asked, seeing Eiríkur grinning, while Helgi looked morose and deep in his own thoughts.

  ‘Three jewellers, three positives. Our mystery lady spent something like a million krónur on other people’s credit cards in one morning, buying gold and silver necklaces, a few bangles, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Stuff that doesn’t lose value,’ Gunna said. ‘Unlike cash.’

  ‘Someone’s putting something aside for a rainy day, aren’t they?’ Helgi observed, shaking his head as if shaking off his private thoughts.

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘I do. This is stuff that can be sold, but not right away. It’s all identifiable and can be traced, but the longer it stays in a biscuit tin under her bed, the less likely it is to be noticed.’

  ‘Or a safe deposit box,’ Gunna mused. ‘Someone with a long-term plan, you reckon?’

  ‘But that’s not all,’ Eiríkur broke in, unable to curb his excitement. ‘I went to half a dozen other jewellers around the city and several of them recognized her, said that she’d been in before. One chap said he’d sold her some jewellery about a year ago and thought he’d recognized the face then, but wasn’t certain. That’s why the picture rang a bell after such a long time.’

  ‘Really? In that case you’d best go back there and see if you can jog his memory.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Absolutely. Right now.’

  ‘What about . . . ?’

  ‘No, if this jeweller can come up with a name or whatever, then go and browbeat him until he remembers.’

  Eiríkur shrugged his jacket back on and left, shaking his head at Gunna’s obstinacy, while she turned to Helgi and sat down.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked as Eiríkur closed the door behind him.

  ‘Ach, nothing important. Nothing to do with work.’

  ‘Helgi Svavarsson, it may be nothing to do with your work, but it’s affecting your work. What’s bugging you?’

  Helgi sighed deeply. ‘It’s Halla,’ he said finally. ‘Problems at home.’

  ‘The kids are all right, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yeah, the kids are fine. It’s the P word. Again. You’ve a problem of your own in that department, don’t you?’

  ‘Hell, don’t remind me,’ Gunna said grimly. ‘That boy of mine has really given himself a cross to bear for the rest of his life. And mine, I expect,’ she added.

  ‘What’s he going to do about it? Has he actually talked to you, other than just to admit his misdeeds?’

  ‘I don’t know what the hell he’s thinking, and I don’t suppose he knows either. Anyway, what P word were you thinking of? The same one as me?’

  ‘P for pregnant,’ Helgi said grimly.

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘It’s not that simple, and Halla’s not pregnant. Quite the opposite.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  ‘Halla’s sister had a baby about three months ago and Halla’s going wild, wants another one. It’s driving me nuts.’

  Startled, Gunna stifled a laugh. ‘And that’s a problem?’

  ‘We live in a four-room apartment. Halla has a child, I have two who’ll be in their twenties soon, and we have two together. Wouldn’t you say that’s enough? I reckon it is. But she wants one more, like completing the set or something. I’m forty-two, Gunna. I’ve had my share of nappies and teething. It’s the second time around for me, don’t forget.’

  ‘I’d have thought so,’ Gunna agreed. ‘Twice was quite enough for me.’

  ‘Fair enough, but what would you do if Steini suddenly decided he needed an heir?’

  ‘Steini already has children and grandchildren, so there’s no chance of that.’

  Helgi ran a hand over his forehead. ‘Yeah. But if, Gunna?’

  ‘I guess a year or two ago I’d have thought about it for five minutes and then said no. Twice is enough and another one’s not on the agenda.’

  ‘Yeah, but Halla’s not like you. She loves all that stuff, small babies, maternity things, playschool and all that. I just want to get past it all so I can play football with them.’

  ‘But does Halla understand how you feel? Really? Have you made it absolutely plain?’

  ‘I’ve tried . . . but the flesh is weak, isn’t it?’ he said with a small smile. ‘You know, I’ve never used a condom in my life, but I swear I’m buying a pack on the way home tonight.’

  ‘And if Halla finds them before you whip them out at the crucial moment, she’ll assume you’ve been playing away from home.’

  ‘You think so?’ Helgi asked with panic in his voice.

  ‘I do. Now. Work. Anything on that burned-out car? Was it Magnús Sigmarsson’s?’

  ‘We still don’t know. We’re trying to get the number off the chassis, but it wasn’t the car i
t was supposed to be.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘We managed to get the rear number plate and the registration belongs to a van that’s been outside a workshop in Kópavogur for weeks. It failed its inspection two months ago and the owner hadn’t got round to fixing it so just parked it outside. When he showed it to me, he was more surprised than I was that the plates had been unscrewed.’

  ‘Someone wanted to disguise it.’

  ‘And there was a lot of petrol,’ Helgi added. ‘The firemen say there must have been petrol all over the seats and the whole interior for it to go up like a firework like that. Someone wanted it disposed of, and wanted to do a decent job of it.’

  Gunna rattled her fingernails on the desk. ‘The last sighting we have of Magnús is when he left his girlfriend’s house. Nothing at all after that. So where did he go and why? And as he’d hardly drive out to the quarter-mile track and break his own neck, who was with him?’

  ‘That’s what we’d all like to know, isn’t it? But he’s nowhere on CCTV, and if he went direct from her place to the quarter-mile track, it isn’t more than a twenty-minute drive.’

  ‘But if we have anything to tell us who that might be, it’ll be in that car. So you’d best get down to forensics and pester them to go over it with a magnifying glass until they find something. If it’s any consolation, as far as your problems with Halla are concerned, by the time you finish tonight, you’ll be far too tired for anything in that department.’

  Helgi smiled weakly and Gunna sensed the return of the usual good-humoured Helgi she knew and preferred.

  ‘And then it’s Óskar Hjálmarsson for you.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The father of Magnús Sigmarsson’s girlfriend. I want him grilled properly about his movements on the night Magnús disappeared.’

  ‘You reckon it could have been him?’

  Gunna scowled and rubbed her chin. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘My guts say it wasn’t him. But the man has a motive and if it wasn’t him, then we need to have him properly eliminated. So take your time and make sure. He’s not a pleasant character so you can make him sweat if you like.’

  The round face of the blonde girl behind the desk at the Harbourside Hotel fell as Gunna walked in and smiled.

  ‘Símon’s not here at the moment. The MD’s back and there’s a management meeting over at the Gullfoss this afternoon.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Gunna told her, ‘because this time it’s you I want a quiet word with.’

  The girl’s bottom lip protruded in a pout. ‘But I don’t know anything.’

  ‘You don’t know anything about what?’ Gunna asked, her curiosity aroused by the instant denial.

  ‘Anything,’ the girl replied after a few moments’ thought.

  ‘Are you on your own here, or is there a supervisor about?’

  ‘I’m the reception supervisor.’

  ‘Is that since Magnús is no longer here? In that case, who are you supervising?’

  She jerked her head towards a door behind the reception desk. ‘I’ve got a trainee with me.’

  Gunna looked past the girl and into the office where a young man with a fringe over his eyes was sitting at a computer screen.

  ‘Hey, you.’

  The young man looked up cautiously and pointed a finger at his own chest. Gunna nodded back and beckoned. He stood up, clearly awkward in the smart hotel-issue trousers that he still managed to wear as low on the hips as decency would allow.

  ‘What’s your name, young man?’

  ‘Eggert Thór.’

  ‘Listen, Eggert Thór. I need a quiet word with your colleague, so while she and I go over there and have a quiet talk . . .’ Gunna said, jerking a thumb towards a set of armchairs in the hotel’s echoing lobby. ‘You’re a smart lad and you can manage to run things by yourself for ten minutes, can’t you?’

  ‘Er . . . yeah,’ he replied, with an uncertain look on his face.

  ‘All you have to do is stand there and look like you know what you’re doing. Any problems and we’re right over there. All right?’

  ‘Yeah!’ the lad said, a happy smile stealing across his face as Gunna marched the girl to the set of armchairs and sat opposite her. ‘Magnús was murdered,’ she said bluntly and watched the shock register in her eyes.

  ‘Why? Do you know who did it?’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to pin down,’ Gunna said, catching sight of the girl’s name badge. ‘Look, Eva. Something shady has been going on here and Símon hasn’t exactly been helpful, any more than your colleagues at the Gullfoss have.’

  ‘I think Símon’s really worried about something. Normally he’s quite cheerful, but these last few days he’s been mega-grumpy.’

  ‘There’s a scam been going on here and at a few other hotels across Reykjavík. You have an idea of this, right?’

  ‘A what?’ Eva asked and Gunna inwardly cursed the girl’s slow-wittedness.

  ‘People being tied up in rooms. That’s happened a few times, hasn’t it?’

  Eva chewed her lip and looked nervously over towards Eggert, standing like a sentry behind the reception desk. ‘We’re not supposed to say anything.’

  ‘Says who?’

  ‘Símon. And Magnús. They said that if anything about this got out and it affected business, we could find ourselves out of work, and it’s not easy to find work at the moment.’

  ‘When did they tell you this? Recently?’

  ‘It was before my birthday. I remember because it was the day before my party.’

  ‘And when was that?’

  ‘August the ninth’s my birthday.’

  Gunna was surprised that Sonja’s scam went back so far; Eva twisted her fingers nervously.

  ‘Am I going to get the sack if they find out I told you this?’ she asked abruptly.

  ‘I’ve no idea. I wouldn’t think so. But if you don’t tell them, I won’t. This was Símon, right? And Magnús told you the same thing?’

  ‘They told all of us. But not all together. Just in ones and twos.’

  ‘How did Magnús seem to you? Was he nervous or upset in any way?’

  ‘Not that I noticed. His girlfriend threw him over because her parents didn’t like him, or so he said. He tried to make out he didn’t really care, but he was well pissed off,’ Eva said. ‘I mean, it’s not as if Magnús was the kind of dreamboat who was going to find another girlfriend just like that.’

  The hostility in the air was unmistakable. Jóel Ingi Bragason and Már Einarsson sat on one side of the polished table, practically identical young men in suits that Gunna felt made them look like youngsters ready for confirmation, while Ívar Laxdal sat at one end of the table and glowered.

  ‘So this is a MacBook that has been mislaid and you want it back, or so Ívar tells me,’ Gunna opened.

  ‘Who are you?’ the slimmer and younger-looking of the pair demanded with outright distrust in his tone.

  Gunna sighed and put her identification on the table for them both to see.

  ‘As I’m sure smart gentlemen like you are already aware, I’m Gunnhildur Gísladóttir and I’m a sergeant with the serious crimes unit. I don’t doubt that my colleague’ – she nodded towards Ívar Laxdal – ‘has already told you exactly who I am, so let’s stop wasting everyone’s time, shall we?’

  The younger man with the narrow face and the darting eyes – Jóel Ingi, according to the hurried briefing Ívar Laxdal had given her – sat back and pouted sulkily while his colleague Már smiled winningly and clasped his hands together in front of him.

  ‘Jóel Ingi, would you like to explain exactly what happened?’ Mar invited.

  ‘Yes, well . . .’ he floundered for a moment before regaining his footing. ‘It was a few days before Christmas, I think.’

  ‘You think? You don’t know for certain?’

  ‘Of course I do. I’ll just have to check my diary,’ Jóel Ingi snapped back. ‘I was walking home and had my laptop in a bag on my shoulder, as usua
l. There were two boys in the street, and one of them had a bicycle. They were having an argument,’ he recited.

  ‘So what happened?’ Gunna prompted.

  ‘One of them pushed the other quite hard in the chest, and he fell backwards against me. I stumbled and fell. The boy who had pushed the other grabbed my laptop case and made off on his bicycle.’

  ‘And the other boy?’

  ‘I . . . er, I don’t know. I ran after the one on the bicycle, but couldn’t catch him. When I looked round, the other boy had gone as well.’

  ‘And where did all this happen?’

  ‘Skipholt,’ Jóel Ingi replied. ‘The corner of Skipholt and Bolholt.’

  ‘Which way did the lad on the bike go?’

  ‘Back along Skipholt.’

  ‘What time of day was this?’

  ‘Around five, five-thirty.’

  ‘So it was dark. What was the weather like?’

  Jóel Ingi stared back. ‘What?’

  ‘Weather? Cold? Wet? Raining?’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  Jóel Ingi’s eyes widened in suspicion as Gunna glanced at Ívar Laxdal.

  ‘I’ll need descriptions of the two lads, anything that might distinguish them. What ages?’

  ‘Around sixteen, I’d say.’

  ‘Tall? What sort of height? Fair hair, dark hair? Long? Short?’

  ‘They were both wearing hooded sweaters and I didn’t see their faces properly. It all happened so fast.’

  Gunna sat back and looked disapproving.

  ‘Officer, do you expect that these two boys can be found?’ Már Einarsson asked in a tone that was an attempt to defuse the tension.

  ‘I’m sure they can, if we had the time and manpower to do it. But you’re not giving me a great deal to work on.’

  ‘Jóel Ingi, is there anything more you can recall?’ Már asked.

  ‘No. It was dark. It was all over in a few seconds.’

  Gunna sat back and cracked her knuckles. ‘I can’t help feeling that we’re wasting our time here.’

  ‘You think so?’ Már asked, a worried expression on his pleasant face.