Fox Goes Hunting

by Paty Jager

  Böðvarsson replaced the phone and leaned back in his chair. “He said it sounded British.”

  Hawke sat forward. “That still doesn’t rule out Billy Weston. His Philly accent might sound British to someone here. I’ll have a talk with Reggie Carlton. He’s been coming here for years. He brought a daughter with him last conference. But he was on the bus there and back. I saw him. Hopefully, Carlton can tell me who else is here from that area or if he saw Billy Weston on the bus.”

  “But why did he use the young woman’s car if he had the rental?” Böðvarsson asked.

  “To throw us off. If he’s been planning this for four years, he’d have it all figured out down to every detail.”

  “That’s a long time to get things right. I’ll have my officers try to track down the coat the person in the surveillance tape is wearing.” Böðvarsson’s phone rang.

  Hawke used that as his cue to leave. Out in the lobby he asked for a ride to the Harpa. Once he was settled in the police car, he sank into his thoughts, ignoring the officer pointing out sights like a tour guide.

  Chapter Sixteen

  At the Harpa, Hawke thanked the officer for the ride and stood on the sidewalk, studying where people stood to catch buses and taxis. He walked over to the line that appeared to be waiting for a ride at a stand that explained the bus routes and to stand here for taxis. Scanning the surrounding area for a traffic or surveillance camera, he didn’t see one. A building like this should have surveillance cameras. He’d have Böðvarsson ask about it. If there were cameras, it should show who was picked up by the taxi driver.

  What bothered him the most was the fact the person had to have been on the bus back from their tracking seminar. It had to be someone in the workshop. He’d ask the woman in the base of operations room to print out a list of the people who’d signed up for his class.

  He walked into the beautiful glass building. It reminded him of his mother’s beadwork. The colored honey-comb shaped glass resembled an intricate pattern that could be found on Indian regalia and items that were made for family members and to sell.

  He climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered the base of operations room. He wasn’t surprised to see Einar sitting at a desk, staring at a computer monitor. He was surprised to see the man was alone. A good time to ask Einar about his affair with Sigga.

  Hawke grabbed a chair and dragged it over to where Einar sat.

  “Hawke, what are you doing here? Did you find out who killed my son?” Einar sat up straighter.

  “No, not yet. But we are gathering more leads.” Hawke paused and glanced at the monitor with photos of Nonni swirling in and out of the screen. “We discovered you and Sigga were having an affair.”

  The man’s face turned crimson, even his ears. “That has nothing to do with my son’s death!”

  “Are you sure? Did Nonni threaten to tell your wife—his mother—about the affair? Maybe Sigga didn’t want it aired that she was sleeping with you, the coordinator of the conference? Maybe you didn’t want your wife to find out?”

  “This is all crazy! Neither I nor Sigga would hurt Nonni.”

  Quietly, Hawke said, “But you did by sleeping together.”

  Einar dropped his face into his hands and sobbed.

  Hawke wasn’t good with emotions, his own or anyone else’s. He waited for the man to pull himself together, hoping no one came in.

  Finally, Einar snuffled, wiped his hands over his face and peered at him through bloodshot eyes. “I only slept with her during the last conference. I was at a vulnerable state with the Weston legal action.” He shook his head. “It started with me just finding someone who would listen in the bar. Next thing I knew, we were in her room and I found myself there every night during the conference.” Einar stared straight into Hawke’s eyes. “It was only during the conference. We have not been together since.”

  Hawke raised his hands. “Okay, but we had to get that out of the way. Has the legal action with the Westons finalized?”

  “No. When a legal battle is being fought from such distance it is harder to complete and expensive for the Westons.”

  “I can imagine. Was what Nonni said so defaming that it is worth it to them to spend the money and sue?” Hawke had never understood grown people going to court over name calling. He’d always found either fighting it out or ignoring it worked.

  “No, he was sticking up for the people who could have been badly hurt or killed due to Calvin’s negligence. They will not win. My lawyer told me last week that they are bluffing, saying they have new evidence to prove how much Nonni’s words had hurt Calvin’s job.” Einar shook his head. “Now I do not see how it matters. Nonni is gone. They could not do any more to hurt me.” His jowls sagged and his eyes pooled unshed tears.

  “Perhaps Nonni’s death was their way of getting even and not losing any more money?” He liked Billy Weston for the murder. He just had to prove it.

  The tech woman walked in. Her gaze landed on the two of them and she hurried to her seat at the computer.

  “Could you give me a print out of the people who signed up for my tracking class, please?” He stood and crossed to where the woman sat.

  She tapped keys and the screen popped up class titles. She clicked on his, it opened, and a printer whirred to the left.

  “I’ll get it.” He walked to the printer and pulled the page out of the machine. A quick glance and his eyes landed on Reggie Carlton. “Any chance you could tell me where Reggie Carlton is right now?”

  The woman typed and a new screen popped up. She said, “He’s in the Ríma room.” She glanced up at him. “They should be getting out in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Thank you.”

  Hawke left the room, more determined than ever to pin the murder on Billy. But he was thorough and would visit with Carlton to make sure there wasn’t a person with a British accent who hadn’t been a fan of Nonni’s.

  <<>><<>><<>>

  Conference attendees trickled out of the room in front of where Hawke stood waiting. He’d scanned the list of people who’d signed up for his class and while he wasn’t sure what he was looking for, nothing jumped out at him.

  “Hawke, why are you lurking in the halls?” Carlton asked, walking over to him.

  He smiled. “Waiting for you.”

  “Me? Why would you want to talk to me?” Carlton continued walking. Hawke fell in step beside him.

  “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” Hawke followed the man to the elevators.

  “Yes. We will have some privacy upstairs in the room where the buffet was the other night.” They stepped into the elevator and Carlton pushed the button. “Have you had any luck finding out who killed Nonni?”

  “We have some leads. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  The elevator dinged and the door slid open. Carlton stepped out and walked to a serve yourself coffee bar.

  After they filled cups and Carlton doctored his with cream and sugar, they sat at a table along the outside wall where they both had a nice view of the water and boats.

  “Why do you need to talk to me?” Carlton set his cup on the table and studied Hawke.

  “A cab driver, who we believe picked up the murderer, didn’t get a look at the person to tell if it was a man or woman and he said he couldn’t tell if it was a man, or a woman making their voice sound like a man, but he did notice a British accent.” Hawke had to give the man credit, he didn’t start arguing it couldn’t be him. He thought about what Hawke said.

  “So, you believe you are looking for someone with a British accent. Someone connected to the conference?”

  “I have one other lead, but it is also connected to the conference in a way. I do think it has to be someone either attending the conference or working the conference who has a British accent or an accent that sounds British.” Hawke sipped his coffee. “Sound like anyone you can think of?”

  “Why are you asking me? Because I’m British?” The man scowled and st
irred his coffee.

  “That and because you have been to this conference many times. You know more of the people involved than I do.”

  “Sigga would know more people.” Carlton stared at him.

  “But she isn’t reliable.”

  Carlton laughed. “You discovered her dirty little secret. She was shagging Einar. It was a one off. Not sure what was happening at home, but whatever you say about Sigga, she is a good listener.”

  “She also has a hot temper when it comes to her boy toys.” Hawke wondered if Carlton knew about Sigga’s on and off relationship with Largess and if Carlton had needed a good listener over the years he came to the conference.

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed that. It could mean whoever is boiling her blood may be the one she doesn’t want to lose?” Carlton raised his eyebrows as if questioning Hawke to dish what he knew.

  “The reason I waited for you; can you think of anyone with a British accent you’ve run into here that you remember from past conferences who may have had a beef with Nonni?” Hawke glanced up as two people entered the room. The Tanakas. He leaned his head their direction. “I know they both speak broken English, but have you ever witnessed any altercations between them and Nonni?”

  Carlton shook his head. “No. I think Riku had a thing for Nonni. And as far as I could tell, her father didn’t mind.”

  Hawke made a note to ask Ásta and the other friends how they felt about Nonni making so many female friends. He could tell Ásta was grieving for Nonni but was it because he was dead or because she’d killed him? That was a grasp at anything that could have happened. Best to stick with what they knew. The person in the hooded coat, the taxi ride, and the return of the keys. They had to find something useful from the clues.

  “There are several SAR officers from Scotland and Britain here. Only one, Major Rumford, has been here before. But I can’t see him and Nonni not getting along. The man loves etiquette and rule followers and that was Nonni.”

  Carlton stirred his coffee.

  Hawke realized it was a stall tactic while deciding what to say. He picked up his cup, sipped, and waited.

  “Any chance you could tell me what you know? Perhaps I could be of some assistance?” Carlton picked up his cup as if to take a drink.

  “At the moment, the fewer people who know what we do, the less likely the person is to feel as if we are drawing the net tighter.” Hawke took a drink.

  A hand tapped his back. He glanced over his shoulder. It was Riku.

  “Mr. Hawke, my father would like to speak to you at our table.” She didn’t glance at Carlton.

  “Okay.” He smiled at the Brit and followed the young woman across the room to where her father sat. Hawke set down his cup, held out his hand to shake, and took a seat.

  “Why did you want to talk to me?” he asked, without preamble.

  “We, my daughter and I, have been talking. She has been going out every night with Nonni’s friends and she hears things.” He glanced at his daughter who sat on the man’s left side.

  “What kind of things do you hear? Are they speaking in English?”

  She shook her head and her cheeks became pinker. “I have been learning Icelandic for my return trip. I wished to speak with Nonni.” Her cheeks darkened even more and the tips of her ears also blushed.

  “I see. You have been eavesdropping on their private conversations?” He didn’t mean it to come out as a reprimand, but the young woman cowered a bit. “What have you heard?”

  Her nose wrinkled and her eyes narrowed. “Ásta does not like me. She is glad I did not get to be with Nonni.”

  He nodded his head. There was jealousy. Would she have killed him to keep him from falling for Riku? Something to think about. “What else?”

  “Sindri is taking acting lessons. He wishes to be next James Bond.” She rolled her eyes. “And Nonni and his friends knew the man you were looking for, Billy, was in Iceland. They said something about a meeting. But then other people came by and they talked of other things.” She stared at him. “I did good? I wish to help find who killed Nonni.”

  “You did very good. Thank you, Riku.” Hawke pulled the notebook out of his day pack and began writing it all down. “You need to be careful and not let them know you are listening.”

  “I have warned her of this. She should not go out with them anymore. I do not want something happen to her.” Mr. Tanaka put a hand on his daughter’s arm.

  Hawke peered into Riku’s eyes. “I agree with your father. What you have told me will help me enough to get to the truth. Stay away from the others. I, and I know Nonni, wouldn’t want you to be hurt because of him.”

  Tears sparkled in the corners of her eyes. “I will stay with my father and not go out.”

  “Good. And I will let you both know when we have Nonni’s murderer.”

  “Arigatou gozaimasu, Thank you.” Mr. Tanaka stood and bowed. Riku bowed as well and they both walked out of the room.

  Hawke felt as if someone were watching. He scanned the room and discovered Carlton, Sigga, and Einar at the door watching him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Time was running out. Tomorrow would be Sunday and everyone, other than the people staying for the Snow Jeep tour would be leaving. And Dani would be arriving on Monday. He wanted this cleared up to not impose on her vacation.

  Hawke called Böðvarsson.

  “Did you get the surveillance tapes from around the Harpa area?” he asked as soon as the detective answered.

  “Yes. The prosecutor understands the need to get this wrapped up before people scatter.”

  “Good. Can you send a car to pick me up at the Harpa? Also, I have some new information.” He went on to tell Böðvarsson what Riku had told him.

  “His friends? I don’t think they would kill Nonni.”

  “Neither do I, but they all knew Billy Weston was here. They mentioned something about a meeting. I think that’s enough to ask them to come in and talk with us.”

  Böðvarsson sighed. “I agree. I’ll have an officer call and request they come in this afternoon.”

  “And send a car for me.”

  “Yes. I will send a car for you.”

  The connection went silent.

  Hawke hurried out to the front of the Harpa. He didn’t want to miss the police car picking him up and miss out on Nonni’s friends being questioned.

  <<>><<>><<>>

  Hawke sat in a room with Böðvarsson and Bragi. He had been the first of Nonni’s friends to arrive at the police station.

  “I don’t understand why you think I would know anything about Nonni’s death.” The young man drew rings on the top of the table with a fingertip, keeping his gaze cast downward.

  Böðvarsson nodded to Hawke.

  “We’ve learned that Billy Weston and Nonni had a meeting. And that you and the rest of his friends knew about it.”

  Bragi’s shoulders drooped. He slowly raised his gaze to Hawke’s. “Nonni told us not to tell anyone. He was trying to make the problem between the Westons and his family go away. They, Nonni and his father, set up the place where Billy is staying.”

  Hawke slapped a hand on the table.

  The young man jumped and leaned back.

  “You all knew where he was staying, and yet, I had to wait until the next morning for Katrín to send me the address?” Hawke stood and paced back and forth. What kind of friends withheld information that would expose their friend’s killer? “I’d told you that I believed his killer was here with the conference, that we had to catch him before everyone headed home.” He sat back down. “You all knew who he was before I showed you the photo and asked you to help me find him.” He glared at Bragi. “Did you take me to all the other bars, hoping I’d give up?”

  “No! We didn’t know which bar he was at.”

  “But you knew where he was staying!” Because he rarely lost his composure, Hawke stood up, waved to Böðvarsson to continue, and stepped out of the room. How could the group have bee
n so stupid to not tell him the truth from the beginning? Nonni was dead, breaking a promise would help them find his killer. He paced up and down the hall until he was back in control and walked into the room.

  Böðvarsson stood. “I’ll have your statement printed out and will bring it in for you to sign.” He put a hand on Hawke’s shoulder. “You back in control?”

  “Yeah.” Hawke sat, crossed his arms, and leaned back in the chair, staring at Bragi.

  The young man squirmed.

  “Did Nonni and Billy meet on Wednesday?”

  Bragi shrugged. “I’m not sure. I know they planned to meet up this week, but I don’t know if it was Wednesday.”

  Böðvarsson walked back in with a sheet of paper. “Read, make sure it is your words, and then sign.” He nodded for Hawke to exit the room with him.

  Out in the hall, the detective asked, “Can you keep it together for the rest of them?”

  “Yeah. He blindsided me with already knowing where Billy was staying and withholding the information. I thought they wanted to help me. I think they’ve been mucking things up keeping Nonni’s promises.”

  “I agree. They are very loyal to the victim, even if they could be helping a killer.” Böðvarsson sighed and walked back in the room. He exited with Bragi. “Don’t say a word to your friends about what we talked over when you leave.”

  The young man glanced at Hawke and nodded.

  “Ready for the next one?” Böðvarsson asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Sindri said the same about knowing Billy was in Iceland and that Nonni planned to meet with him to help out his father. He was given his statement to read and sign and moved along.

  Hawke glared at Katrín, sitting across the table from him. “You pretended to not know where Billy was staying. Didn’t you want to help find out who caused Nonni’s death?”

  She ducked her head. “We all promised Nonni we wouldn’t tell anyone what he was doing.”

  “But he ended up dead. That promise should have become tell everyone so we could find out what happened to him.” Hawke leaned back in his seat. “And it makes the four of you guilty of withholding evidence and hiding a suspect.”