Cold Comfort (46 page)

Hallur’s arm tightened suddenly in her hand and immediately relaxed again.

GUNNA’S HEAD WAS
throbbing again, and she gulped down two painkillers with a mouthful of water.

“Still rough, chief?” Eiríkur asked.

“Yup. And I’ve had enough for today.”

Helgi opened the door and dropped into his chair. Gunna looked at him expectantly, but he had his face in his hands, kneading his eyes with the heels of each hand.

“Have an interesting time at the hospital, did you?” he asked. “Shit. What a day. Oh, the Laxdal will be here in a moment. Saw him coming up the stairs just now.”

He had just lifted his face from his hands, his eyes red, as Ívar Laxdal appeared silently and swung a chair under himself, sitting down in one smooth movement.

“Just so you know, there’s an international arrest warrant out for Sindri Valsson,” he announced. “That’s the good news.”

“And the bad news?”

“The Portuguese police want to get hold of him as well, so we might not have first crack at him.”

“But we will eventually?”

“Eventually,” Ívar Laxdal said grimly. “I hear congratulations are in order,” he added with the nearest thing to a smile any of them could recall.

“Really?” Gunna asked, stifling a yawn. “Has our lottery ticket come up?”

“No, chief,” Helgi said. “Högni’s weapon was apparently a chair leg that he picked up from a pile of firewood behind his great aunt’s house. Eiríkur’s already been out there and been through the pile, and we have the other three legs. So at least we know what we’re looking for. It would be handy to have the murder weapon, but I reckon we’re watertight enough without it.”

“Excellent. How about Gulli Ólafs?”

“Hard to say,” Eiríkur said. “His lawyer’s whispering all sorts in his ear, so he’s refusing to speak in case he incriminates himself. But we’re going through his work and personal computers to see what Albert can dig out, and there’s a handful of phones from his flat and his office that Albert’s playing with now,”

“We have the number that was used to send SMS demands to Bjarki and Hallur, and Albert’s retrieving what he can from Svana’s phone as well,” Gunna said, eyes half closed as she waited for the painkillers to chisel at the throbbing in her head. “Högni wasn’t after cash—just revenge, plain and simple. But it seems that Jónas Valur and the rest of the syndicate believed that they were being blackmailed by Svana and Högni, when in fact it was Gulli Ólafs and Hallur’s wife who were sending treats and demands to the syndicate and to Svana.”

“So we can pin Jónas Valur’s murder and the assault on Hallur on this man?” Ívar Laxdal demanded.

“That’s it,” Eiríkur answered.

“No connection with the man who murdered Bjartmar Arnarson?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Högni murdered Jónas Valur,” Ívar Laxdal said. “So which of this syndicate murdered Svana Geirs?”

“We’re still working on that,” Eiríkur said.

“It was Hallur,” Gunna broke in. Helgi and Eiríkur swung round to look at her.

“You’re sure?” Ívar Laxdal asked, eyebrows lifted.

“As sure as I can be. Unfortunately he’s not the man he was since Högni’s assault on him. It seems his memory is cut to ribbons and there isn’t a lot of the past few weeks that he remembers. So, conveniently, this whole episode has been erased from his mind. Sorry, guys, I should have told you. I’ve just now come back from the hospital. Bjarki Steinsson says that Hallur was convinced they were being blackmailed by someone with Svana’s complicity. We know now that it was nothing to do with Svana, but it seems that Hallur went to confront her. The result was an argument, with Hallur losing his temper and cracking her over the head, all in time to be back at work after lunch.”

“Evidence?”

“Sorry. That’s as close as I reckon we’re going to get unless something new turns up.”

Ívar Laxdal stood up and swung the chair back under the desk it belonged to as Gunna rose to her feet, looking at her watch.

“I’m going to leave you two gentlemen to clear things up, if that’s all right with you. I assume Högni’s been charged?”

Helgi nodded.

“As Litla-Hraun is full to overflowing, I suppose that Gulli Ólafs may be granted bail on the blackmail charge, but we ought to ask for a travel restriction,” she instructed. “Don’t want him skipping the country like Jónas Valur was about to.”

“Will do,” Eiríkur agreed.

“See you all tomorrow, then,” Gunna said, pulling on her coat as Ívar Laxdal held the door for her.

Halfway down the stairs, he caught up with her. “Gunnhildur. A question.”

“Go ahead.”

“What do you make of Hallur?”

“He’s in no state mentally to face a trial. The doctors don’t even want us asking him questions. I had to bully them to get five minutes.”

Ívar Laxdal nodded pensively. “But you’re sure he’s the perpetrator?”

“As sure as I can be.”

At the door, Gunna paused and zipped up her anorak in spite of the spring sunshine.

“The guy bugs me,” she admitted.

“Why’s that?”

“The doctor said he would expect to see a significant level of recovery in time, although not as much or as rapidly as he would with a younger casualty. I can’t help feeling Hallur’s not as impaired as he lets on.”

“You think he’s faking?”

“The man’s a politician, so lying’s second nature to him, but he’s going to be under supervision and the moment he slips up I’ll be on him like a ton of bricks. If it’s an act, he’s going to spend the rest of his life playing that part, so I suppose we can look on the bright side.”

“Which is what?”

“The man has a choice, assuming it is an act. Either he can snap out of it and face the music, or else he can pretend to be mentally impaired. Not much of a life.”

“Better than prison, though,” Ívar Laxdal said.

“I’m not so sure. I suppose he’ll be released eventually into Helena Rós’ care, and considering how fond she is of her husband, I think prison would be the more pleasant option.”

“Not as good as prison, but close, you mean?”

“As good as a life sentence,” she said, letting the door close behind her. “See you tomorrow.”