Chilled to the Bone (25 page)

“All right, are you?” Már asked, finding him standing there with a dull look on his face.

Jóel Ingi shook his head. “I don’t know. That fat Katrín just came on to me two minutes ago right here.”

“In broad daylight?” Már laughed, his smile brought to a sudden death by the morose look on Jóel Ingi’s face.

“That’s about it.”

“I’m shocked. I’ll have a word with her line manager and see that she’s given a written warning for flirting with the fourth floor,” Már said, breaking into a laugh as he saw the serious look on Jóel Ingi’s face. “Seriously, though. Be flattered. I mean, I always thought you were queer.”

“Get away, you bastard,” Jóel Ingi retorted, a smile finally appearing on his face.

“Listen, though. A quiet word.”

Már’s suddenly serious tone switched off the laughter.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s that laptop you had stolen before Christmas. Ægir’s as nervous as hell. A human rights group in Holland has figured out that those four Arabs left Germany and traveled to Amsterdam. That’s where they lose track of them. They got hold of the same information as we did about those four being found shot in the back of the head in Tripoli, plus I don’t know what else …”

“They were tortured?”

“I don’t know. But they weren’t being sent to a summer camp with four meals a day and team-building exercises. I’d be amazed if they hadn’t been.”

Jóel Ingi’s pale face went a shade paler. He poured cold water from the cooler and drank it down fast, wiping away the sweat that had suddenly appeared on his forehead. “Good God, what have we done?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s done. There’s nothing we can do about it, except keep quiet. Listen, the do-gooders lose track of them in Amsterdam. They may know they came through Keflavík, but they don’t have anything to prove it. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

“Ægir knows all this?”

“Hell no. Not all of it. But he’s a shrewd bastard and he can read you like a book. That’s enough to tell him that something’s up. He’s been on to the police about it.”

“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.”

I
T 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 just over a year apart 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.

“A
ND WHAT DO
we have, dear boy?” Gunna asked, seeing Eiríkur grinning, while Helgi looked morose and deep in his own thoughts.

“Three jewelers, 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 jewelers around the city and several of them recognized her, said that she’d been in before. One chap said he’d sold her some jewelery 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 jeweler 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 she’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. Its 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 it 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 around 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-humored 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.”

T
HE 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 toward a door behind the reception desk. “I’ve got a trainee with me.”

Gunna looked past the girl and into the office behind 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 toward 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.”