‘Were they sure it was suicide?’
‘The pathologist had some slight doubts, I think. As did Baldur. But they were pretty much squashed from on high.’
‘Why?’
‘There was a revolution going on,’ said Vigdis. ‘And up till then it was peaceful. If Gabriel Orn had been murdered on the night of those demos, it would have put an entirely different flavour on the whole situation. The politicians, the Commissioner, everyone was shit scared that things would turn seriously violent. We all were.’
‘Arni, let me tell you something,’ Magnus said. ‘If your gut tells you something, listen to it. It may turn out to be wrong, it often will, but every so often it will be the best evidence you’ve got.’
Arni sighed. ‘All right.’
‘Where does this Harpa woman live?’
‘Seltjarnarnes. I can call her to see if she’s in?’
‘No, Arni. We are going to surprise her.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
HARPA LIVED IN one of a row of identical white houses facing the bay. Small, but expensive enough in the boom times, Magnus thought. Not now though.
When she answered the door Magnus got the firm impression that she had been expecting to hear from the police. For a second she looked panicked, before badly feigned surprise kicked in.
She was in her late thirties, with pale skin, pale blue eyes and dark curly hair reaching down to her shoulders. She had been pretty once, and no doubt could be pretty again, but at that moment she looked tense and worn out. Two deep creases lined her face either side of her mouth, and two smaller notches like deep cuts separated her eyebrows. At first Magnus thought she was wearing make-up, until he realized that the smudges around her eyes were fatigue.
Arni introduced himself and Magnus. They took off their shoes and went through to the kitchen.
A grey-haired man was kneeling on the floor with a curly-haired little boy. They were playing with toy cars and a garish plastic multi-storey car park.
The man pulled himself to his feet, wincing as he did so. He was short, with a broad, hard face criss-crossed with wrinkles. He appeared to be in his late sixties. ‘What’s this about?’ he asked in a gruff voice, squaring his shoulders as he faced up to the detectives.
‘We are investigating the death of Oskar Gunnarsson,’ Arni said.
‘Oh yes?’
‘This is my father, Einar,’ said Harpa.
Magnus addressed him directly. ‘It’s your daughter we would like to speak to, Einar. We would prefer to talk to her alone.’
‘I’ll stay,’ said the man.
‘She is over eighteen,’ said Magnus. ‘She doesn’t need a parent present.’
He could feel Harpa tense next to him.
‘She became quite upset the last time you lot interviewed her,’ Einar said. ‘I don’t want that to happen again.’
‘Don’t worry, Dad,’ said Harpa. ‘I’ll be much better this time. Why don’t you take Markus down to the harbour?’
The small boy’s face broke into a wide beam and he started jumping up and down. ‘Harbour! Harbour!’
Despite himself, Einar’s eyes softened as he struggled to repress a smile.
‘Are you sure, my love?’
‘Yes, Dad, I’ll be fine.’
‘OK, come along then, Markus.’
The old man held out his big meaty hand, and it enveloped the little fist of the boy. Magnus, Arni and Harpa waited awkwardly while they put on their shoes and coats and went outside.
‘Sorry about that,’ said Harpa. ‘My father is a bit overprotective.’
‘Nice kid,’ said Magnus.
‘Yes. And his grandfather dotes on him as you can see. He’ll be telling him all kinds of stories about his fishing days once they get down to the harbour. Markus loves it although I’m sure he doesn’t understand what Dad is saying: he just likes the rumble of his voice.’
Magnus and Arni sat at the kitchen table as Harpa poured them some coffee and sat opposite them.
‘You heard Oskar was shot in London?’ Arni asked.
‘Yes,’ Harpa said, tensing. ‘Yes, I heard it on the radio. It was quite a shock.’
‘Did you know him?’
‘Yes, I did. He was my boss, or rather my boss’s boss. Oh, I didn’t know him well. But I have had plenty of meetings with him over the years.’
‘Did you know him socially?’
‘No,’ Harpa said firmly. Too firmly. ‘Absolutely not.’
The denial piqued Magnus’s interest. Already he could sense that things were not quite right with Harpa. ‘So you were never invited to any of his parties?’
‘Um. Yes, yes, I was,’ Harpa said. ‘I suppose I did see him socially at business gatherings within the company. He was good with all his staff. But I wouldn’t call him a friend. And we never met outside work.’
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
Harpa blew air out of her cheeks. ‘I suppose it was the goodbye speech he gave to all the staff the day he left.’ She smiled. ‘Gudmundur Rasmussen, the idiot they brought in to take over when the bank was nationalized, insisted Oskar leave around the back. So Oskar calmly walked around the building and through the front entrance. He’d planned it all before, a bunch of us were waiting for him in the atrium.’ She smiled. ‘It was a good speech.’
‘But you haven’t seen him since then?’ Magnus asked.
‘No. From what I have read he went straight to London and pretty much stayed there. I don’t think he ever came back to Iceland.’
Magnus nodded. Harpa was becoming more convincing.
‘I’d like to ask you about the death of Gabriel Orn Bergsson,’ Magnus said.
Immediately Harpa tensed again. ‘Why? That was suicide. What connection can there be with Oskar?’
‘That’s a good question,’ said Magnus. ‘Do you know of a possible connection?’
Harpa’s face betrayed a mixture of confusion and panic. She tilted her head forward to let her curly hair hang over her eyes, and then tossed it irritably out of the way. Playing for time. ‘No. No. There can’t be one. I know they both worked for the same bank, but one man killed himself and the other was murdered.’
‘Do you know why Gabriel Orn killed himself?’ Magnus asked.
‘I don’t. But he was responsible for a lot of bad loans,’ said Harpa. ‘Big losses for Odinsbanki.’
‘But there were plenty of other bankers responsible for losing money last year. They haven’t committed suicide. Why was Gabriel Orn so sensitive?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You knew him intimately. Did it surprise you that he drowned himself?’
Harpa sighed. ‘Yes. Yes, it did,’ she said quietly. ‘He was usually pretty confident about his talents. Maybe he finally realized what a bastard he was. Maybe he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror.’
‘He treated you badly?’
‘You could say that. He took all the credit for the good work I did, he was the one who got the big bonuses while I got diddly-squat. He blamed me for the bad deals he did. That infuriated me. I argued against doing all of the three big deals that eventually went wrong, but Gabriel overruled me, said I wasn’t smart enough to see the opportunity. I wasn’t smart enough to stop listening to him, that was the problem.
‘Then one day, as a special reward for my achievement at the bank, he told me I had become one of the golden circle of privileged employees who would be allowed to buy stock in the Odinsbanki on special terms. The bank
