‘Where d’you work, then?’
‘Spearpoint.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Never heard of it? What planet have you been on? PR and stuff, consultancy, project management.’
‘Right.’
‘I’ve got two weeks’ holiday. Flights to Florida booked and paid for. Scuba diving by day and pina coladas by night, and then the evil old bitch tells me today that I’m needed next week, and that’s that, no arguments.’
‘Must be something big to take your holiday off you.’
‘Ach. It’s those fucking bunny-hugging do-gooders. They set fire to those trucks and stuff out at Hvalvik and we have to try and clear up the mess, set up press jaunts, show people around, sort out new agencies, all that shit.’
The desire for a drink subsided as Matti took better notice of what his passenger was saying.
‘So. Who’s this ball-breaker you work for?’
‘The Minister’s Lady,’ the man replied through even greater depths of bitterness. ‘The lovely Mrs Sigurjona Huldudottir, CEO of Spearpoint, evil, nasty bitch woman,’ he slurred.
Normally he would have kept drunks like this one at arm’s length, but now Matti pricked up his ears.
‘Couldn’t say. Never met the lady.’
‘She’s bloody everywhere, going on about her house in the country or some fucking charity gig she’s organized to collect a few quid for orphans in Africa and make herself look like some kind of a fucking saint.’
‘I know who she is. I’ve just never met her, so I couldn’t say. All right?’
‘Well, all I’m saying is she’s a cow and even though her husband’s a twat he doesn’t deserve her, running his life for him and then shagging her staff as well.’
Although Matti was getting tired of the man, he paid attention all the same.
‘What’s that? Bit frisky, is she?’
‘Ach. Shit. Never mind. Better keep quiet.’
Drops of spit were beginning to collect on the dashboard as the man sat forward in his seat and snarled to himself.
‘Bloody woman,’ he slurred. ‘We all ought to get together and sue the arse off her for harassment. Y’know, if she was a man, she’d never get away with all the shit she gets up to.’
‘Yeah?’
Matti’s pulse was set racing by anything even mildly salacious, but he struggled to mask his curiosity, hoping that a show of indifference would bring out more details.
‘Yeah. Sigurjona and her studs. Every trip she takes an assistant.’ He spat out the last word with more venom than Matti would have thought possible.
‘Assistant?’
‘Yeah. Personal assistant. Bloody woman. Very personal assistant.’
‘What? Taking notes? Carrying bags?’
‘And the rest. And she changes assistants more often than she changes her knickers. Hell, I’d better keep my gob shut. Said too much already.’
‘Where are you going?’ Matti asked, slowing down as he passed a speed camera.
‘Scaramanga.’
‘Righto. Still doing the business there, are they? Or have all the strippers gone now?’
‘Dunno. Gonna find out. It’s been a fucking shit day with that old witch and I’ve got to do something to make it a bit better.’
‘I can, er, help you out with that. If you’re looking for some company,’ Matti ventured.
‘What?’
‘If you’re looking for a lady to look after you for an hour or two.’
‘OK,’ the man said slowly. ‘Tell you what, give me your number and I’ll give you a call if I don’t get lucky.’
‘Sorry, mate. One time offer only. Not an offer to be passed up.’
‘How much?’
‘Negotiable. Depends what you’re looking for.’
‘No, hell. I’ll sort myself out. I can always go and jump on the bloody boss if I get really desperate.’
Matti slowed, hauled the car off the main road and past the sprawling Smaralind shopping complex, slowing for lights and taking several more turns before pulling up in front of a nondescript building with only a single bright light over its door, where a thickset man in black stood guard.
‘Here we are. That’ll be six thousand five hundred.’
The man dropped a handful of notes on the seat as he struggled to stand up and get out of the car.
‘Want me to wait for you? In case they don’t let you in?’
Matti shrugged as the man found his feet and set his course for the door without answering.
‘Not my problem if you’ve got to walk back to town,’ he muttered to himself as he scooped up the notes and trousered them. It was just as well he hadn’t bothered to set the meter running.
17
Monday, 15 September
‘Snorri?’
‘Yup.’
‘Hi. Busy?’
‘You know,’ Snorri replied guardedly.
‘Listen. You remember the car that was in the dock at Sandeyri?’
‘Blue one, yup.’
‘Stop saying yup, will you? You sound like a teenager.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Look, I have something I’d like you to look into. I have to go out to the InterAlu place again now and I don’t have time, otherwise I’d be doing it myself.’
‘All right?’ Snorri said dubiously.
‘Now, remember what I told you about cultivating a suspicious mind? This Egill Grimsson character was run down on the ninth of March. If this car is the one that was responsible, I’d bet anything you like it was in the dock at Sandeyri within a few hours.’
‘Go on,’ Snorri said.
‘I’m sure it went from Grafarvogur out to Sandeyri and someone must have had a sight of it.’
‘All right. So what do you want me to do?’
‘Just a bit of digging through traffic records. See if there’s a speed camera that may have caught it, anything like that. Shouldn’t take you long.’
‘That’s a bit of a while ago now.’
‘I know. I’m not expecting miracles, but do what you can.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘I might knock off once I’ve been to the compound, so you can drop in and see me when you’re done. If I’m not here I’ll be at home. OK?’
Snorri grunted in agreement and Gunna jingled the second-best Volvo’s keys as she left him to get back to his computer. Egill Grimsson irritated her. But what irritated her even more was that the case had been mothballed and that it had taken place where the Reykjavik force would hardly welcome interference from outside.
15-09-2008, 1448
Skandalblogger writes:
Cosy Moments will not be muzzled!
