“Her father’s a well-known figure, you know.”
“And he’s a lawyer.”
“What progress with the hack?”
“Singing like a bird. Can we get some extra bodies to search his flat and his car? I could do with someone to go to his office as well and bring his computer back here for Albert to have a look through.”
“I can get that done,” Ivar Laxdal said.
“What we have at the moment is Helena Ros and Gulli Olafs helping us with enquiries. It’s crystal clear that between them they were blackmailing three of the four members of Svana’s Syndicate, but I have no idea yet how they’re linked to the deaths of Svana or Jonas Valur, or the attacks on me or Hallur,” Gunna said, pausing for breath as Ivar Laxdal’s eyes widened. “On the other hand, we have Hogni Sigurgeirsson, who is a seriously fucked-up young man and has plenty of questions to answer about Hallur’s injuries. It seems that Gulli and Helena Ros had already started their little campaign some time before Svana’s murder, and it was aimed mainly at wrecking Hallur’s marriage, as well as digging Gulli Olafs out of his financial difficulties, after which he was going to play house with the man’s wife. It’s something I should have twigged earlier and followed up.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Gunnhildur. You’ve been busy.”
“Albert’s work has been outstanding,” she continued. “There was a dog hair in one envelope at Hallur’s parliamentary office that matches Helena Ros’ poodle. Now Gulli Olafs and Helena Ros Palsdottir are in separate interview rooms desperately blaming each other. But Gulli Olafs wasn’t the one who smacked Hallur and tried to poison him, or the one who bashed Jonas Valur’s head in, although he was probably the person Jonas Valur was expecting to see. Both Gulli Olafs and Helena Ros were elsewhere at the time, and that’s already been confirmed. The house-to-house enquiries and CCTV have turned up sightings of a grey Opel that fits, so I have our pizza delivery boy pegged for that one. But we’ll see.”
“If you think Hogni may be responsible for the attack on you and Jonas Valur, then that interrogation ought to be handled by someone else,” Ivar Laxdal decided.
“Not S?valdur, surely? Not after all the work we’ve done.”
“S?valdur’s busy elsewhere. Helgi can do it.”
GUNNA SAT QUIETLY next to Eirikur in the interview room.
“Interview with Helena Ros Palsdottir, officers Eirikur Thor Jonsson and Gunnhildur Gisladottir present,” Eirikur recited for the benefit of the recording. “Helena Ros, can you tell us where you were on the day your husband was attacked at your home?”
“At a fundraising event.”
“Fundraising for what?”
“For the National Theatre, at Hotel Borg.”
“And there were people there who will confirm your attendance?”
“Of course.”
“Have you any idea who might be responsible for the attack on your husband?”
Helena Ros folded her arms and glared, head back. “You’ve already asked me all these questions.”
“How long have you been in a relationship with Gunnlaugur Olafsson?”
“Who says we’re in a relationship?”
“I’m asking,” Eirikur said. “Are you saying there isn’t a relationship between you?”
“All right. About a year.”
“How long have you known Gunnlaugur?”
“Since we were at college. Twenty years, something like that.”
“And how did you become aware of your husband’s arrangement with Svana Geirs?”
“Do I really have to answer these questions? This is very personal.”
“But it’s also a murder inquiry.”
“Surely you don’t suspect me of murdering that woman?”
“Would you please answer the question?”
Helena Ros fidgeted with the ends of her scarf. “I knew there was something going on. Hallur has always been easily led astray, especially by pretty women, but since the children were born he’s kept his dick in his trousers, or so I thought. This was different. To answer your question, it was simple. I checked the SMS messages on his phone while he was in the bath. He must have realized, because after a while he started taking his phone with him to the bathroom.”
“Was this before or after your relationship with Gunnlaugur began?”
“Before. Gulli confirmed it and told me what the arrangement was.”
“Which was what?”
“You know perfectly well,” Helena Ros said in a voice that dripped scorn.
“I’d prefer to hear it from you.”
“Hallur and three other dirty old men were paying to take turns on that plastic Barbie doll. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“That will do nicely, thank you,” Eirikur said politely. “You know Jonas Valur Hjaltason?”
“Of course. He sits on a couple of committees with my husband.”
“He’s dead.”
“A heart attack, I suppose?”
“You don’t seem surprised,” Eirikur said with a frown.
“He was overweight and unhealthy.”
“He was murdered. It’s not public knowledge yet. Where were you on Friday evening?”
“At home, I think. Yes, I’m sure of it, I was at home.”
“Anyone who could corroborate that?”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “Gulli. He stayed the night and left early in the morning.”
“What time did he arrive?”
“Eight-ish. Something like that.”
Eirikur shot a glance at Gunna. “The threats and demands posted to your husband. Who had this bright idea?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Gunna opened the file on the desk and passed two sheets of paper across. Helena Ros ignored them.
“There are more,” Eirikur said. “Some of these were retrieved from the bin in your husband’s office at your home. A couple more are from his parliamentary office.”
“So who was blackmailing my husband?”
“That’s what we’d all like to know, and I have to consider your involvement in it.”
“This is absolutely ridiculous! How dare you!” Helena Ros lifted herself to her feet and towered over Eirikur.
“Sit down, will you?” Gunna growled, speaking for the first time.
“Idiots,” Helena Ros hissed, ripping the two letters into shreds and dropping the pieces with a flourish on the desk as she dropped back into the chair.
IVAR LAXDAL RUBBED his chin irritably, the first indication Gunna had seen that he might be tired.
“What’s the situation with Hallur now?” he asked.
“He’s not doing well. It seems he has a level of brain damage due to oxygen starvation. It could be weeks or even months before we can understand quite how much damage has been done, and all the indications are that he may never be fit to stand trial. One doctor says he’s going to be a twelve-year old for the rest of his life. Another says he should make at least a partial recovery, so we’ll have to wait and see.”
“But there is some good news for you,” Ivar Laxdal said. “Hogni Sigurgeirsson is being flown back to Reykjavik right now from Torshavn.”
“What? Out there in the east? What was he doing there?”
“No, Torshavn in the Faroes. It seems he arrived there the day before yesterday. Showed up on a flight from Reykjavik with a bag full of money, still with Jonas Valur Hjaltason’s name tags on it, and brandishing Jonas Valur’s passport.”
“Sounds weird, doesn’t it?” Eirikur asked. “Why the Faroes?”
“He had a ticket for the next morning to Copenhagen, but Faroese customs only picked him up as he was
