A Full Cold Moon

by Lissa Marie Redmond

  ‘Tell me about his life here before he left for the States,’ Lauren pressed gently, trying to keep Jakob on track.

  ‘He worked for years for an IT firm. He hated it. So when the job offer to work for Ragnar Steinarsson came up, he took it.’ His face became more animated now that he was talking about the good parts of Gunnar’s life, instead of imaging how he died. ‘It was hard work. He traveled a lot, with and without Ragnar. But Gunnar was a very organized person, that was his way. He was never late, he never missed an appointment, never forgot a birthday. It was like the job was made for him. He was very happy this last year.’

  ‘What about his personal life?’ Matt asked. ‘Is there anything you could tell us about that?’

  ‘I knew he was gay, if that’s what you’re getting at.’ The anger crept back into Jakob’s voice.

  ‘Was he involved with anyone?’ Lauren cut in, trying to ease the tension. ‘We need to know who to speak with next.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jakob apologized. ‘I’ve always been very protective of Gunnar. I know you’re just trying to find out what happened.’ He took a deep breath and continued. ‘He lived with someone for about three years. His name was Stefan. They broke it off about six months before Gunnar took the job as Ragnar’s assistant. Gunnar moved out of their apartment and came to live with me. It’s been tight, but Gunnar was hardly ever home.’ The giant orange cat came creeping out of the kitchen, jumped up on Jakob’s lap and glared at the three interlopers. Jakob absently stroked his head, used to the cat’s intrusions.

  ‘Can we get the ex-boyfriend’s name and address?’ Berg asked.

  ‘Yes, but I doubt he’ll be able to help you. My girlfriend and I saw him at a club here in Reykjavík the night before Gunnar was killed. He was with his new partner. They seemed very happy together.’

  ‘You let us worry about who is or isn’t worth talking to, my friend,’ Berg told him. ‘And don’t try to play detective.’

  ‘I’m a waiter in an Italian restaurant.’ He reached behind him, feeling around on the shelf until his hand wrapped around a pen. Turning back without disturbing the cat, he scribbled something on a piece of paper he tore from a little notebook on the coffee table and handed it to Berg. ‘I’ll leave the detecting to you.’

  Berg glanced down at the ex-boyfriend’s information before pocketing it. ‘Was Gunnar involved with Ragnar?’ he asked bluntly.

  Jakob seemed taken aback by that question. ‘I don’t know,’ he said as if he was trying to figure it out on the spot. ‘Gunnar worked six or seven days a week sometimes. I know he liked Ragnar’s wife, Freyja. He did a lot of work for her as well. He never spoke about anything like that. Like I said, he was obsessed with finding his father these last few months. He’d spend hours researching on his laptop when he was home, printing out pages.’

  ‘So there was no indication of a romantic relationship?’ Matt asked.

  Jakob shrugged helplessly. ‘He didn’t hide his relationships, but I didn’t pry either. I never thought to ask. I just knew he was working a lot; long hours and business trips.’

  ‘Can I take a look in his room?’ Lauren asked.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Jakob looked pained at the thought of this invasion into Gunnar’s privacy. Lauren knew they’d have to wrap it up soon. Jakob was in a delicate state. ‘It’s the one on the left. He didn’t have much. He wasn’t one to collect things. Just a lot of new suits and good clothes. He had to dress well for his job.’

  Knowing the three of them would never fit into the small area, Lauren stood up, giving the remaining visitors some breathing room. Then Jakob kept talking with Berg in Icelandic, asking him questions, while she crossed the living area into the tiny space that was Gunnar’s bedroom.

  She had to shut the door behind her to get fully inside. To her left was a closet full of suits, button-down dress shirts and pressed pants still in the dry cleaner’s plastic. Several pairs of shoes sat on the floor in a neat line. To the right was a narrow bed topped with a single pillow in a teal pillowcase. It seemed too bright for the neutral décor of the room. Shelving on both walls held a few personal items: framed photos, a beer mug with a mountain graphic on it, some books. Against the far wall, under the window, was a blue-and-gray high-end mountain bike. A laptop sat on the small dresser next to the bed.

  Bending over, she opened the drawers and riffled through the underwear, socks and T-shirts. The contents in the dresser held nothing of interest to them so she shut the drawers and turned her attention to the shelves above the bed.

  She picked up a framed photo of Gunnar with his brother, mother and who she assumed was his stepfather. His mom was a petite little thing, with long blond hair and pale alabaster skin like Jakob. The resemblance was more pronounced standing next to each other. Katrin had an arm around each of her boys, both on the short side like her, but Gunnar’s dark hair made him stand out. The taller man, who was Jakob’s father, stood beaming next to the trio. A lush forest spread out behind them and Lauren absently wondered where the picture was taken. It was a loving family photo. She would have bet anything Gunnar’s mother had given it to him framed as a gift. Lauren’s mind flashed back to Billy Munzert’s family. How broken his parents were. How maybe it was a blessing Gunnar’s mother wasn’t alive to go through the pain that Jakob and her husband were going through now.

  She grabbed the laptop and went back in the living room.

  The three men all stood. ‘Do you mind if we take this?’ Lauren held the laptop up.

  ‘Go ahead. I don’t know the password, but I’d like it back if there are pictures on it.’

  ‘You’ll get it back, friend,’ Berg assured him, taking the computer from Lauren. ‘I’ll get this to our computer experts first thing in the morning.’

  Jakob slowly walked the three back to the kitchen door, his shoulder slumped, his face a mixture of anguish and defeat. ‘Aren’t you looking in the wrong place?’ he asked, as if he’d been wanting to ask that question since they showed up. ‘Isn’t the murderer in America?’

  ‘We can’t assume anything,’ Lauren told him as Jakob reached past her and pushed the door open so they could leave.

  ‘I can assume one thing,’ he said as they filed out onto the metal steps. ‘You won’t find anything on his computer. He lived on his phone. If you want to know what was going on with Gunnar, check his phone.’

  TWENTY-SIX

  ‘Do you believe Jakob when he says he didn’t know if Ragnar and Gunnar were romantically involved?’ Lauren followed Berg back toward their vehicle as a light snow dusted down from the now dark sky.

  ‘Maybe it was a strictly business relationship,’ Matt said as they crossed the road. Berg got in the driver side and waited until both of them were settled before he blasted the heat for Matt’s benefit. The temperature had plummeted with the sunset and Matt’s lips were practically blue. ‘Maybe we’re barking up the wrong tree with that angle.’

  ‘The day manager at Gunnar’s hotel thought Ragnar was Gunnar’s husband,’ Lauren pointed out as Berg eased out of the space.

  ‘But they didn’t sit together on the plane,’ Matt said. ‘Ragnar sat in first class and Gunnar sat in economy.’

  ‘I saw their passenger manifest,’ Berg said. ‘I knew four people on that plane with them. If they were trying to keep their relationship quiet, separate seats is a good start. And people see what they want to see. I think we need to talk to Ragnar tomorrow.’

  ‘He has no idea we’re here?’ Lauren’s stomach grumbled. She still hadn’t had anything but coffee since the day before.

  ‘I don’t know what he knows. Everyone is connected to everyone in Reykjavik one way or another, and word travels. Which is the reason you got stuck with me, remember? Let’s get you both something to eat. I don’t want your boss to complain to my boss that I starved you.’

  Not knowing where to go, Lauren and Matt had to put their trust in Berg for choosing a restaurant. ‘I hope you like fish,’ he said as they walked int
o a cozy little café on a side street near the harbor.

  Lauren had seen signs out front of various establishments when they’d been riding over to Jakob’s that advertised fermented shark, puffin, and whale – none of which sounded appetizing to her. When she voiced her concerns, Berg laughed out loud. ‘Only tourists eat that shit. Go ahead and try the fermented shark. You’ll stink like a rotting corpse for a week.’ He opened his menu and stabbed it with his finger. ‘This. Get the potatoes roasted in geese fat. It’s what they’re known for here. It’s the house specialty.’

  She and Matt both got fish entrées with the potatoes while Berg consumed a giant bloody steak. A candle in the middle of the round table threw shadows across the dark blue tablecloth. The place was packed, there wasn’t a single empty seat to be had. When Lauren asked if they needed reservations when they walked in, Berg had cocked an eyebrow, smiled and said, ‘I know a guy,’ in his best American accent. He’d talked quietly to the hostess in Icelandic and they’d been seated right away.

  ‘Tomorrow night my wife is making lamb for both of you,’ he told them, shoveling a dripping piece of red meat into his mouth. ‘My Anna’s a wonderful cook. You’ll see.’

  Lauren wolfed down her dinner and even managed to eat desert. She knew she’d sleep better if she was full. The last thing she wanted was to lie in bed, staring at the ceiling while the minutes ticked by, like she did at home when she caught a case that came up short on suspects and leads.

  Not only did Matt eat, he downed two beers with Berg in the process. With a teething baby at home, a three-course dinner and drinks were probably a rarity in Matt’s life.

  When the waiter brought the check Berg scooped it up. ‘Sorry, friends. It’s on the Reykjavík Metropolitan Police tonight.’

  Even with the coffee she drank with dinner, Lauren was ready for bed when Berg pulled up to the hotel. ‘We’ll go visit Ragnar first thing tomorrow,’ he called, leaning out of the driver side window. ‘Get some sleep. And you,’ he motioned to Matt’s feet, ‘go buy a proper pair of boots before I get here.’

  ‘See you in the morning.’ Lauren waved goodbye, trying not to laugh at Matt’s ridiculous shoes.

  It’ll still be full dark when he comes around, Lauren thought as she and Matt walked into the lobby. It was barely nine o’clock at night, but the jet lag was pulling Lauren down fast.

  ‘I’ll be up at six and in the gym tomorrow, if you call in the morning and I don’t answer,’ he told her.

  ‘I’ll be lying in bed at six, and seven, and possibly eight with no intention of exercising anything. But have fun. I’ll be in the lobby at nine.’

  He slapped the door of the elevator as he got off. ‘See you then, Riley.’

  He’s calling me Riley, a faint smile arched across her lips. I guess I’m starting to grow on him. Poor kid.

  Lauren wanted to collapse on her bed, pull the covers over her head and just sleep when she got back to her room, but she glanced at the time on her phone. It may have been late in Iceland, but back home at the Buffalo Police department she was sure she could catch Hector or Doug Sheehan. Especially if the higher-ups had approved overtime for Gunnar’s investigation.

  Lauren decided to try Hector Avilla before she sat on the bed and passed out with all her winter gear on. He picked up on the second ring. ‘Hey, Lauren!’ Hector’s voice filled her ear as she made her way over to the chair by the window. ‘How are things halfway across the pond?’

  ‘I think I’m more than halfway, but thanks for asking. I called to get an update. Any word on new leads?’ She sank down into the chair, shrugging off her parka, the phone squashed to her ear with her shoulder.

  ‘My jailhouse informant gave me a couple of names. One guy looks real interesting. His names is Michael Hoskins and he just got out of prison two months ago for a string of armed robberies. He did six years. He served his entire sentence so there’s no parole or probation officer he has to report to. I talked to my friend who works at the prison, he said this guy’s a real badass.’

  Lauren’s heart rate picked up a beat. ‘Did you bring him in?’

  ‘Yeah, but he knows the game. He lawyered up right away. We don’t have enough on him to get a search warrant and he knows he’s being surveilled so he’s on his best behavior.’

  ‘The commissioner sprung for twenty-four-hour surveillance?’

  ‘The commissioner, the mayor, and the district attorney are giving us whatever we need.’

  Putting Hector on speaker phone, Lauren laid her phone on the table so she could pick at the knots in her boots. ‘That’s impressive. Could you imagine if they did that for every homicide?’

  He laughed into the phone. ‘Yes, I can. The city would be broke. Unfortunately, throwing all that money at the case hasn’t helped us catch a break yet.’

  ‘You said “yet”.’ She kicked off one boot and started working on the other. ‘You got someone else to look at?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Hector hedged. ‘But you ain’t going to like it.’

  ‘What?’ She lined both boots up together.

  ‘The nurse? Erna? Turns out about twenty-five years ago she was indicted for embezzling from a church she worked at. She paid restitution so she was never convicted of anything.’

  ‘Erna?’ Lauren would have said she’d been a detective too long to ever be truly shocked but right then she felt blindsided. ‘How did you find that out?’

  ‘We brought her in today. She willingly gave a statement. She didn’t try to hide it, if it makes you feel any better.’

  Lauren sprawled face down on the table and thumped her forehead against the fake wood grain. How can I have been so stupid, she inwardly groaned, I should have double-checked Erna the same way I double checked Ryan and Brooklyn’s criminal backgrounds. She was also an heir. She had just as much motive as the siblings. ‘I can’t believe I missed that.’

  ‘They rushed you out of the country in the middle of your investigation.’ Hector was trying to comfort her now. ‘Mr Hudson is her alibi and I don’t think he’d cover up Gunnar’s murder for her, do you?’

  ‘No,’ Lauren agreed. ‘But I know she had at least one grown son. Did you check into her kids?’

  ‘I’m on it, Lauren. Of course, I did. This isn’t my first homicide.’ No, but it was starting to feel like it was hers. ‘How are things on your end? Did you find your mystery man?’

  ‘We talked to Gunnar’s brother today. We’re going to try to talk to Ragnar tomorrow.’

  ‘Listen, the powers that be are getting the samples collected from Gunnar’s crime scene processed for DNA right away. We should have preliminary results in two to three days. Even if we don’t have a suspect, if we get a full profile, we can have them upload it into CODIS.’

  Just like she’d done with the unknown profile found on Billy Munzert’s bike. A lot of good that did us, she thought bitterly. Maybe Ragnar will volunteer to give a swab of his DNA. Wouldn’t that be a nice early Christmas gift?

  ‘I won’t keep you,’ Lauren said, rubbing her forehead where she’d smacked it against the table as she moved toward the bed. ‘I know you probably want to get home.’

  ‘No, I’m glad you called. I want you to know we are all over this case here. Just do your thing. I’ll call you if anything breaks.’

  And I’ll be thousands of miles away if it does. ‘Thanks, Hector. That means a lot to me.’

  ‘Get some sleep, chica,’ he paused, calculating the time difference. ‘It’s past your bedtime.’

  ‘Thanks, Hec. Goodnight.’

  He clicked off. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone.

  Finally, she tossed the phone on the nightstand in disgust.

  What the hell am I doing here?

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  It was the silence that woke Lauren, not the nightmare.

  Sitting straight up, staring ahead into the darkness of her hotel room, she tried to remember the sound of her nightmare. Only there was no sound. Just Billy Munzert si
tting in the chair by the window in his 1970s cowboy shirt holding a plastic Star Wars action figure in his fist smiling at her from across the room, his red hair so much like Berg’s, and teetering on the edge of laughing out loud. Devon Crosby was standing next to him, smirking, with a gun in his hand pointed at Billy’s head.

  She was breathing hard, almost panting, heart pounding, expecting to hear the nighttime sounds of the city. But there was nothing, just the gentle whir of the heating unit. That barely registered as noise to her. Lauren’s hand felt around the bedside table for the lamp. Switching it on, she saw she was alone. Billy wasn’t there. Devon Crosby was gone. There was just her parka and next to the legs of the chair, her boots.

  The room was warm; too warm. It was suffocating her. She had to get up, move around, make some noise. The next thing she knew she was pulling on her parka and boots. She didn’t bother with her glasses, but she managed to remember to grab the key card off of the dresser. Lauren fled out her door and down the stairwell directly across from her room.

  She felt her legs pumping as she rounded each landing, her breath quickening, her pulse racing. At least she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. That was something.

  She hit the bar for the emergency exit and found herself outside, behind the hotel. The door snapped shut behind her and she closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. The biting cold felt good, familiar. In the stillness she could hear herself breathing and tried to slow the rapid beating of her own heart.

  ‘It’s cold out, love. I hope you have a hat and gloves in your pocket.’

  A voice from behind startled her out of her panic attack.

  Lauren turned around to see an old man with a face like aged leather leaning against the side of the building, smoking a cigarette next to the exit door. She must have ran right by him. ‘What?’

  ‘I said’ – he dropped the butt on the ground, stomped it with the toe of his boot and immediately lit another one – ‘that you Americans are never prepared for the cold. I hope you remembered to bring a hat or gloves.’