Fox Goes Hunting

by Paty Jager

  “Thank you.” He shifted his gaze to Riku. “Your father said you met Nonni when you came here two years ago. Are there any other young people at the conference this year who were here then?”

  She shook her head. “Not that I have seen.”

  “What does two years ago have to do with Nonni’s death?” Katrín asked.

  Hawke shrugged. “Probably nothing. Nonni escorted family members around, and I find it odd that his death happened as this conference was starting.” He studied each of the young man’s friends. “It seems more likely if someone wanted him dead, they would have found a time when there were less law enforcement officials around.”

  They all nodded.

  “But I don’t understand why anyone would want to kill Nonni,” Sindri, the young man Hawke hadn’t met yet, said.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to all of you about. You can’t think of anyone who had a problem with Nonni?” He continued to study the young people.

  Each one shook their head.

  “He was nice to everyone. If you were down, he was the one who picked you up. He had a way of making you look at the bright side of everything,” Ásta said.

  “That’s right. When I was here last time, a friend I made, Wanza, she was in a bad place. That was why her mother brought her with her to the conference. Wanza had wanted to stay home. But once she met Nonni and his friends, she smiled and forgot her problems. She was very happy when she went home. I was sorry she did not come this year.” Riku picked at a button on her jacket.

  “Did you two stay in touch?” Hawke asked.

  “For a few months after the conference, then she stopped texting. I hope she didn’t go back to the dark place she had been before.”

  “Where was she from?” Hawke didn’t think a young woman becoming happy here would have anything to do with a death, but he liked to keep his options open.

  “Africa somewhere.” Riku shook her head. “I could never say the name.”

  “It was Macha something,” Bragi said.

  Katrín bumped his shoulder with hers. “That’s right, you two hooked up.”

  Hawke understood the meaning of hooked up from his earlier conversation with Leonard and the bus driver. They’d had sex. He didn’t understand going to bed with someone you barely knew. Even as a young man, he didn’t do the deed with a girl unless they had been going steady a while. He wanted to ask how old Wanza had been, but refrained, knowing that he could lose their help if he appeared judgmental.

  “On the surface, all of you believe there was no one who hated Nonni enough to kill him?” He scanned all the faces.

  “Everyone loved him,” Ásta said, her eyes downcast at her drink.

  “Don’t get mad at me with my next questions, but they have to be asked.” He peered each one in the face, all but the new girl, Ginny. “Was he involved in drugs or anything else that could have brought trouble to him?”

  They all laughed.

  “We liked to come out and drink and dance, but Nonni was the one who told us if we did drugs, he would not be our friend anymore.” Katrín gripped Ásta and Sindri’s hands. “He had an older brother who overdosed on drugs. He made us vow to never touch the stuff.” A tear trickled down her cheek.

  The young man Hawke had liked right off was becoming even more and more likeable. Shit! Who had ended this young man’s life so soon?

  He shifted his conversation to Riku. “Someone told me that Nonni was talking to a young Asian woman this morning in the restaurant here.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “It was me. He was excited about the hike he was taking for your class. I told him he could tell me all about it tonight when we had dinner.” She hiccupped and swiped at the tears on her cheeks.

  “Think hard. Did he tell you where he was going?”

  She shook her head. “I say to him, if you tell me where you are going, I can come too. He said, no. It was a secret between him and Hawke.”

  The young man had kept his promise and not told anyone. So how had the killer found him? It was looking more and more like a random act. But that conclusion wasn’t correct. In his gut, Hawke knew the young man had been sought out and killed. But by who and why? He studied each of the friends who had been in the bar the night before. He and Nonni had kept their voices low as they’d discussed the area, Hawke had wanted the tracking to be done. Had one of them overheard? They all looked sincerely upset over their friend’s passing.

  “Was anyone sitting nearby when you were talking with him?” he asked Riku.

  “I know there were people at some of the tables near us, but I do not know who they were. I was happy to see Nonni and talk with him.”

  Hawke had a thought. “Did you two schedule to meet for breakfast?”

  “No. I happened to see him in the lobby, and we went to the restaurant to visit.”

  He glanced at the friends. “Did Nonni stay in the hotel during the conference?”

  Ásta shook her head. “No. He lives not that far.”

  “Why was he at the hotel so early?” Hawke said out loud. The group all stared at him, their heads gently moving back forth as if in answer to his question.

  “Thank you for your time. If you could all put my name and phone number into your phones and call me if you think of anything, I would appreciate it.” He waited for them to all pull out their phones and he rattled off his number.

  “Aren’t the Reykjavik Police handling this?” Bragi asked.

  “Yes. I’m just helping them. Everything you told me will be given to them, and they give me everything they hear.” He knew it wasn’t his call to add the next thing but it didn’t hurt to have whoever killed the young man realize the police were working overtime to find the killer. “We have to figure out who did this before the conference ends. If the killer is a conference attendee, we have to find the truth before everyone goes home.”

  Chapter Seven

  Following up on the fact Nonni was in the hotel early that morning, Hawke decided to see if he’d been there to see someone. It appeared everyone had known the young man. If he had been here, then someone should know why.

  He walked out to the registration desk and asked if anyone from the morning shift was available.

  “Only the manager is still here,” the young woman at the counter said.

  “May I speak to the manager?” Hawke hadn’t shown any credentials.

  “What is this about?” she asked, picking up the phone.

  “Jón Einarsson.”

  The woman’s face puckered a moment before she caught herself and spoke into the phone. All he understood was the young man’s name.

  When she put the receiver down, he asked, “Did you know Nonni?”

  “Yes. He was in my class in school. Always happy. Always making everyone feel better. I can’t believe someone would—”

  Before she could finish, a woman entered behind the desk. “Sara, go back to your work.”

  The young woman nodded and turned her back on them.

  Hawke held out his hand, “Hawke. Ma’am, I’m helping the Reykjavik police gather information about Jón Einarsson.”

  The woman led him over to two chairs out of hearing of the main lobby. “You are not Icelandic.”

  “No, I work for the Oregon State Police, back in the States. I happen to be the person Nonni was working with when he, well, when things went wrong. I feel a bit responsible and am helping the police gather information to find out who could have done this.”

  “I see. And why did you want to talk with me?” The woman was in her fifties, about average height, brown hair with a sprinkling of gray, and hazel eyes that snapped with authority.

  “I learned that Nonni was in the lobby early this morning. A friend of his saw him and they had breakfast together in the restaurant. Do you happen to know why he was here?”

  “When he picked up people for his tours or dinners, he would wait for them in the lobby.”

  “But he didn’t have one of those this morn
ing.” Hawke studied the woman. Was she being evasive on purpose or was she stalling for some reason?

  “He would sometimes come in ahead of time and let us know when he would be picking people up. I believe he was to take a group to dinner tonight at the Perlan. He might have been arranging that.”

  “Who would he have spoken to about that?”

  “Whoever was at the desk.”

  “Could you look the person up and let me know if they will be working tomorrow morning?” He waited as she stood, walked to the desk, flipped a page, and returned.

  “It was Grady. He will be here in the morning at six.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be here.” Hawke stood and walked out onto the sidewalk. The brisk walk back to his hotel helped him put what he’d learned into compartments in his brain. The first and foremost was the fact that they had a murder victim who, by all accounts, had no reason to be murdered.

  <<>><<>><<>>

  A man in his forties stood behind the desk at the Marina Hotel at 6:15 am when Hawke entered the lobby. He’d awakened at 5:30 after five hours of sleep. He’d gone over all of his notes before going to sleep the night before. At six, he’d left his room and walked to the hotel. He planned to talk to the desk clerk and then have breakfast in the restaurant and visit with the people who had been in his outing yesterday.

  “May I help you?” the man at the desk, Grady, the manager had called him, asked.

  “I hope so.” Hawke held out his hand and introduced himself. “I’m helping the local police discover what happened to Jón Einarsson.”

  The man shook his head. “I heard about it on the news last night. I couldn’t believe it.” The man was American.

  “You knew him?” Hawke had learned over the years more came from a conversation when you let the other person talk and just listened.

  “Yeah. He and his friends come here a lot. And then there’s the conference. They move the sites around, but there are usually people who are attending the conference that stay here. Nonni always came around, gathering up the families for outings.”

  Hawke nodded. “Was that what he was doing here yesterday morning?”

  The man stared at him. “How did you...” He gave a half nod. “Because you’re investigating his death.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Man, I don’t get it. They say it was murder. Everyone liked Nonni. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “So I’ve been told. What about yesterday morning? Who did he talk to?”

  Grady tapped the pen he held on the counter. “He came to me, said he’d be picking up members of the Tanaka, Ralston, and Riddicci families and a Ms. Pearce around six. Then he met Ms. Tanaka and walked to the restaurant. After that I don’t know.”

  “Did everyone in the family usually go to the dinners and events with Nonni?” Hawke wondered at the comments Riku had made the night before. It sounded as if Nonni had taken the younger members of the family out clubbing.

  “Dinners usually. Then the parents and younger members would come back and Nonni would take those old enough clubbing.” He smiled. “There is nothing like the Icelandic nightlife.”

  “So I’ve heard. Thank you.” Hawke headed to the restaurant. He wanted to visit with Riku some more. He wondered if something had happened during a clubbing incident. It appeared Nonni took pride in taking care of people. Had someone perhaps tried something with a conference attendee’s family member and when he intervened put a target on his back?

  Hawke shook his head. He liked it better when he had footprints and nature to help him discover what happened. Talking to people and trying to piece together the young man’s habits wasn’t near as easy as reading signs in the wilderness.

  He sat at a table and sipped coffee, slowly eating the breakfast he’d gathered from the buffet. Several people who were part of the conference wandered in. They hadn’t been in his workshop yesterday. He knew them as conference attendees by the conference tag dangling from lanyards around their necks.

  Carlton entered the restaurant. He scanned the room, spotted Hawke, filled a tray with food, and walked his direction.

  “Mind if I take a seat?” he asked.

  Hawke shoved a chair back with his foot. “Take a load off.”

  The Englishman chuckled. “You Yanks are cowboys all the time.”

  “Not a good analogy. I’m Native American. My ancestors didn’t care much for cowboys. I’d rather be called straight forward.”

  “I’m such a plonker. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

  “I’m not upset. Just setting you straight.”

  “Did you learn anything more about Nonni’s death?” The man poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe Hawke had asked the waitress to leave on the table.

  “Nope. Should have information from the autopsy when I meet with Sigga and Böðvarsson later.” He hoped something would show if the murder had been planned and a weapon had been taken with the killer, or it had been unintentional or spur of the moment.

  “Nonni’s friends know of any enemies?” Carlton sipped his coffee.

  “Nope.” He studied the other man. “You hear anything from the other attendees?”

  “No. Everyone who has been here before is in shock. Can’t believe it.” Carlton shook his head. “I called home and told my daughter. She was here two years ago and had a good time with Nonni and his friends. She started crying. That was how the young man affected people. Everyone he met loved him.”

  “Someone didn’t.”

  Carlton’s eyes widened. He stared at Hawke. “I guess you’re right there.”

  “Did your daughter happen to mention a girl named Wanza two years ago?” Hawke didn’t know why but since the others brought her up, it had been in the back of his mind.

  “The name sounds familiar. I’ll call her later and ask.” Carlton sipped his coffee, studied him over the rim, and asked, “Do you think this was a random killing? He came across someone who didn’t want to be found?”

  Hawke didn’t want to give away what little they knew, but the man seemed to genuinely care. “From the tracks I followed, it wasn’t random. The killer hiked back to the car park. Someone who was out by the mud pool and didn’t want to be seen wouldn’t have hiked to such a public place.”

  The man nodded. “That makes sense. More sense than anything else about this.”

  Hawke nodded and spotted Ms. Tumaini and Mayta entering the restaurant. When the Australian glanced his way, he waved and motioned to the two seats at his table. She nodded.

  “Gathering the troops, are you?” Carlton asked, catching sight of who Hawke waved at.

  “Just want a few more answers.” He noticed Ms. Tumaini shake her head, when Mayta must have mentioned sitting with him. But the two walked over and took the last two open seats at the table after putting food on their trays.

  “G’day,” Mayta said, placing her plate, utensils, and cup of coffee on the table and setting the tray on another table.

  “Good morning,” Carlton said, cheerfully.

  Hawke just nodded and sipped his coffee trying not to study the African woman. She nervously removed her dishes, not once making eye contact.

  “Ready to learn more today?” Mayta asked.

  “About SAR or Nonni’s death?” Carlton asked.

  Mayta stared at the other man then at Hawke. “Are you both diggin into that?”

  “No. Just me.” Hawke kept a peripheral gaze on the other woman. She shoved her food around on the plate. “You haven’t said anything this morning,” he said, acknowledging Ms. Tumaini.

  She glanced up and smiled half-heartedly. “Nothing to say. I want to eat and get to my seminar.”

  “Did you know the young man, Nonni?” Hawke watched her.

  This time she stared back at him. “I told you yesterday. I had not met the person before. This is my first time at this conference.”

  “Why didn’t you want to come sit with us?” Hawke decided to hit her straight on with what he saw.

 
Her eyes narrowed. “Because I have seen your kind before. You judge us all before you even know us.” She slammed her dishes back on her tray, stood, and walked over to another table.

  “Good job, Yank. You made her steam.” Carlton slapped him on the back.

  “Is pissin people off your way of gettin at the truth?” Mayta asked, grinning and biting into a piece of toast.

  “It’s interesting that she would accuse me of the same thing my ancestors, and myself included, have felt toward people with lighter skin than mine.” Hawke wondered at the woman’s comment. He didn’t know much about Africa. Guess he’d better check out the political atmosphere there.

  Leonard Harlow entered the restaurant. He filled a tray and glanced around the room. His gaze landed on them and he strode over, with tray in hand.

  Mayta groaned.

  Hawke chuckled to himself. His phone buzzed. Böðvarsson. He would have enjoyed watching the young American irritate Mayta, but he had a homicide to investigate. “Gotta go.” He stood.

  “Will you be at any of the seminars?” Mayta asked.

  “Doubt it.” He answered the phone and strode to the door.

  Chapter Eight

  Böðvarsson asked Hawke to come to the conference base of operations at the Harpa. He strode down the street toward the glass structure as rain drizzled, and wind made the day feel colder than it was. Holding his hat on his head, he entered the Harpa and shook. Water splattered onto the floor. He cautiously walked across the tile floor to the staircase.

  The detective hadn’t mentioned any leads, only to come to the conference headquarters to compare notes. Hawke had made copies of his notes at the copy machine in his hotel.

  Shoving the door open to the small room used as conference headquarters, Hawke was surprised to see Nonni’s father.

  “Mr.—” He caught Sigga shaking her head. “Einar, I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I have a conference to run. Nonni wouldn’t have wanted it to stop because of him. He loved helping with this event. And my second in command seems to have become overwhelmed when put in control.” The man swiped a hand across his eyes. “I needed something to keep my mind busy.”