could nonetheless repair the most delicate machinery with a skill and patience that she would have loved to be able to master herself.
“When was your last contact with Svana Geirs?” she asked bluntly.
“I thought we’d already been through this?”
“Maybe we need to go through it again.”
Jonas Valur reached for a diary on the desk in front of him. “The sixth. That was the last time I saw her.”
“Five days before she died?”
“Precisely.”
“How long did you spend together? Did you go anywhere you might have been seen or where someone else could confirm this?”
“Officer, our last meeting consisted of a disappointing DVD of some slushy film that Svana wanted to see, a reasonable takeaway from Ning’s and some rather energetic sex—not necessarily in that order. We spent the night at her apartment and I left in the morning,” Jonas Valur said with the return of his narrow smile.
“So you last saw her on the morning of the seventh? I asked what your last contact with her was. Emails, phone calls, maybe?” Jonas Valur shook his head with a show of regret. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with anything subsequent.”
“I see,” Gunna said. “I was wondering who could be the JVH she called on the ninth and had an eight-minute conversation with?”
A sudden spasm of anger flashed in his eyes and was instantly suppressed.
“I have no idea, officer. There are surely plenty of people in Iceland with those same initials.”
“Actually, you’d be surprised just how few there are, according to the National Registry. It seems a coincidence too striking to ignore that Svana Geirs would know two people with the same initials. It also seems odd that she wouldn’t have your name and number in her phone memory when the rest of the syndicate are all there.”
With one hand in her pocket, she pressed the green button on her phone that her thumb had been hovering over, while looking Jonas Valur in the eyes.
“It may well seem odd…” he began, shutting his mouth suddenly as a faint buzz could be heard from his jacket hanging on an old-fashioned hatstand in the corner. His eyes narrowed and Gunna immediately sensed the man’s fury.
“I take it that’s your phone ringing over there?” she asked sweetly, lifting her own phone from her pocket. “If you answer it, you’ll find yourself talking to me.”
“Probably nothing important,” Jonas Valur said dismissively. “I receive dozens of calls every day.”
“But you don’t,” Gunna corrected him. “I happen to know that your personal mobile number is carefully given out to only a few selected friends and your business calls come here to be screened by the witch next door.”
Jonas Valur stood up and leaned forward with his knuckles on the surface of the desk. “I think I’ve told you everything I have to say without a lawyer present. So if you don’t mind, I’m a busy man.”
His eyes indicated the door.
“What did Svana talk to you about?” Gunna asked, remaining seated as he loomed over her.
“I have said everything I’m prepared to say.”
“Did she call you to let you know that the syndicate was being closed down?”
“What the hell are you talking about, you stupid woman? Don’t you know what’s good for you?” Jonas Valur hissed, lifting his knuckles from the desk and impotently balling his fists.
“If I’m expected to take that as a threat, then it might be as well to continue this conversation at Hverfisgata,” Gunna said in a voice that she did her best to keep even.
“On what grounds?” he sneered. “Sleeping with a murder victim? That doesn’t mean that I had any hand in her death.”
“Or Steindor Hjalmarsson’s?”
Jonas Valur sank back into his chair and his face hardened. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“I had nothing whatsoever to do with that.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard.”
“That was all Bjartmar’s doing.”
“And he’s conveniently no longer with us.”
Jonas Valur’s eyes bulged with fury that he concealed with a humorless smile. “Nonetheless, it was Bjartmar’s affair entirely. He was a good friend, but the man had a temper that he sometimes found difficult to rein in. I knew nothing of this until long after the event, and then only through unreliable hearsay. Needless to say, I never asked Bjartmar about these rumours.”
This time Gunna stood up and towered over him.
“In that case you won’t have any objection to making a formal statement to that effect. Nine tomorrow morning at Hverfisgata? Ask for me at the main desk,” she said crisply, turning to leave Jonas Valur glaring at her as she closed his office door behind her.
GUNNA HUNTED AROUND for the car, cursing the department’s finances that left them short of vehicles and forced them to hire cars to fill the gap. She clicked the fob, saw lights flash and strode across the car park to where today’s Audi waited for her.
Her phone trilled as she started the engine, and she fumbled for it as the car began to bump forward through the puddles.
“Gunnhildur,” she barked without bothering to check the caller ID.
“H?, it’s me. Busy?”
“As always. What can I do for you, Skuli?”
“Ah. It’s more a case of what I can do for you.”
“Go on,” Gunna instructed, intrigued, letting the car come to a halt. She heard Skuli take a deep breath.
“It’s about Gulli Olafs. I’ve been talking to a friend of a friend and thought you might be interested to know there’s a rumour around the news desk that he and Helena Ros are more than usually good friends. You know, Hallur Hallbjornsson’s wife?”
“That’s very diplomatically put, Skuli. I don’t suppose you could name a source, could you?”
“I could, but I’d best not.”
Gunna put the car into gear and it jerked forward, splashing its way through a deeper than usual pool of rainwater.
“That certainly throws a new light on things. Thanks for letting me know, Skuli. It’s appreciated.”
“That’s not all, though. Listen …”
Gunna braked and the car ground to a halt a second time. “There was a journal meeting this morning and a load of the usual old stuff came up, but there was also a mention by one of the senior editors that he has someone sitting on a story about Svana Geirs and her little club. There was a bit of an argument about whether or not we should actually use it when it shows up, as it’s definitely going to upset her family.”
“And what was the verdict?”
“That we use it. If we don’t, someone else will, so we might as well have it,” Skuli said quickly. “It’ll have to be under an in-house byline, as the guy who’s done the legwork on it would probably be sacked if his employers find out he’s freelancing as well. So are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Gulli Olafs?”
“I reckon you’d be right, especially taking the rumours about Helena Ros into account.”
“Thanks, Skuli. I’ll keep that to myself for the moment. But I’d really appreciate it if you let me know when this is going to hit any headlines. OK?”
“Will do. Got to go. There’s someone coming.”
The phone went dead in her hand and Gunna sat with a puzzled frown on her face as the raindrops started to rattle on the car’s roof.
“MESSAGE FROM THE Laxdal,” Helgi said as he jumped into the car outside Bjarki Steinsson’s office building.
“Which is?” Gunna asked, letting out the clutch and roaring into the traffic.
