“On your way home, are you, mate?” the youngish policewoman asked kindly, handing him the bottle cap while her older, larger, male colleague surveyed a party of revellers clattering along on the other side of the street.
Jon nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to get my head down now,” he slurred. “Far to go, is it?”
“S’just up there.”
He waved a hand vaguely uphill and tried manfully to get to his feet.
The male police officer frowned down at him, still keeping an eye on the other side of the street.
“Where do you live?” the policewoman asked, squatting on her haunches to talk to him.
“Dunno,” Jon admitted. “It’s up there, big green house in Solvagata. Top floor. It’s my little brother’s place. He’s a poof,” he added, and then wondered why he’d said it.
“All right, mate. Look, if you can stand up and walk as far as the next corner without falling over, I haven’t seen anything. All right?” the policewoman said in the same friendly tone, extending a hand to help him up.
Tears came unbidden to Jon’s eyes and coursed silently down the red stubble on his cheeks as he pulled hard on the woman’s hand and found himself upright.
“G’bless you, darling,” he muttered, weaving from one side of the pavement to the other as he made his way uphill.
“Job done,” the policeman said appreciatively to his colleague. “And no paperwork.”
HELGI’S DELIGHT COULDN’T be concealed.
“And what are you so damn cheerful about this morning?” Gunna demanded.
“Found where Long Ommi’s hiding away.”
“Really? Well done. The sooner we can get the bastard back to the nick, the better for all of us. Spill the beans, then. How did you find him?”
Helgi beamed. “Easy. I got a patrol to knock on Eyglo’s front door, asking if anyone had noticed a joyrider in a stolen car belting around the area. The back door opened as soon as the patrol rang the doorbell, and all I had to do was follow him.”
Gunna nodded appreciatively. “Nice work. So where is he?”
“You know that new district in Gardab?r, just above the Smarinn sports hall? All those new houses?”
“Yup. I drive past it every day.”
“He’s in one of those. The whole place is empty, not a single one’s been sold yet and it’s like a ghost town. The place he’s camped out in is Hatunsbraut 21 and I think he’s using the garage to live in as it doesn’t have any windows, so nobody looks in and no light gets out—or it wouldn’t if the garage door hadn’t been put in crooked.”
“What’s that?” Eirikur asked, dropping his briefcase on to his chair and shrugging himself out of his coat.
“Our man has tracked down Long Ommi. Now we’d better go and collect him,” Gunna replied.
Helgi frowned. “I’d like to track him for a day or two, find out what he’s up to. He’s a right evil bastard and I’m positive he’s up to no good.”
“You think so?” Gunna asked sharply. “I reckon we get the uniform boys to pick him up and ship him over to a month in solitary at Litla-Hraun once we’ve asked him a few questions. Job done.”
“I don’t know,” Helgi murmured. “It doesn’t make sense, to my mind. He had less than a year of a long stretch to go, in a low-security nick where life isn’t hard. So why abscond? Why now? All right, he’s set a national record for being on the run, which is an achievement in itself. But I’m sure setting a record wasn’t what he set out to do.”
Gunna watched as her computer started up, wondering how many of the emails in her inbox could safely be deleted unread.
“Ommi’s from Hvalvik, Gunna. Didn’t you ever cross paths with him?” Helgi asked.
“He’d left Hvalvik before I went to live there. I know who his mother is, though. Nice enough lady, very strict, I always thought. Religious as well, sings in the church choir.”
“I really think we ought to watch Ommi for a day or two. I’m certain it was him who gave Skari a beating in Keflavik, and Daft Diddi, and the word is that there have been more broken noses than usual around. But I’m sure he didn’t abscond from Kviabryggja just to settle old scores that could have kept for a few more months.”
Gunna thought quickly. The unit had more than enough to do with the murder of Svana Geirs and now the suspected arson at Bjartmar Arnarson’s house.
“We don’t have the time or manpower to keep tabs on Ommi, but Eirikur, can you keep a watch and log who goes in and out of there tonight, and we’ll pick him up in the morning. Until then, please get on to finding out about Bjartmar’s dirty deals when you have an hour. A list of business interests and property would be handy, and his tax records.”
• • •
HALLUR HALLBJORNSSON’S SMILE of welcome was sicklier than it had been when they last met, and Gunna’s expression was grimmer. This time a dowdy and flustered researcher showed her to the rooftop office, which seemed smaller as Hallur glowered behind the desk in the corner. Today the sun was out and slanted in through the window to bring out a touch of bronze in the hair that swept unfashionably down to his earlobes.
Wasted on a bloke, Gunna thought, reminding herself that her own unruly thatch was overdue its usual workmanlike trim.
“Good morning,” she offered, sitting down opposite him without waiting to be asked.
“More questions, Sergeant?”
“I’m afraid so. This isn’t a bad moment?”
“Not at all. Always ready to help the police,” Hallur said, and Gunna saw him gulp as he spoke.
She nodded and looked sternly over the cluttered desk. “I don’t feel you’ve been entirely open about your relationship with Svanhildur Mjoll Sigurgeirsdottir. We spoke a few days ago and you gave me the impression that you had conducted an occasional liaison with her, but now I understand that there was rather more to this. I’d be interested if you’d elaborate.”
Gunna could sense fear as Hallur coughed and looked from one corner of the room to other as if seeking inspiration. He’s cornered and terrified, Gunna thought. Be gentle. Don’t overdo it.
“I, er, I’d like you to know that this could be deeply embarrassing, you know … Very unpleasant for a lot of people. My wife … and the Prime Minister …”
There was real anguish in his voice. Gunna looked impassively at the wild eyes frowning back at her and let him continue.
“It would be a shock to her if this were made public. A huge shock,” he concluded, nodding in emphasis.
“Unfortunately that’s beyond my remit. My concern is to identify who was responsible for this woman’s violent death. You’d best be open about it and tell me what you know.”
Hallur fidgeted. “What do you know already?”
“Let’s just pretend that I don’t know anything and you start from the beginning.”
“I think I ought to have my lawyer present,” he blurted out.
Gunna shrugged. “Up to you. That’s if you want me to suspect you were involved with her death, in which case we’d be best off doing this as a formal recorded interview at Hverfisgata and not an informal chat in your office.”
Hallur deflated visibly and his whole body sagged in his chair.
“Did you, for instance, support Svana financially in any way?”
“What? Good grief, no.”
“Not at all?”
“I paid for a meal sometimes,” he said with a flash of his smooth public persona breaking through. “I’m old- fashioned like that, don’t believe in going Dutch. Of course I paid for everything that time we met in Copenhagen, but apart from that, certainly not.”
“And your financial records will bear this out?” Gunna asked quietly.
“You want to go through my bank statements?”
