Hallur waved Gunna to a seat in the only spare chair in the room, and placed himself behind the desk in the corner, as if he knew the angled light coming in through the skylight would accentuate his chiselled features.
“Thanks for finding time—” Gunna began, but Hallur waved her words away.
“I’m often here on a Sunday morning when it’s quiet. How can I help you?” he asked with a show of suavity.
“I expect you probably have an idea already. I’m working on the investigation into the death of Svanhildur Mjöll Sigurgeirsdóttir. You were acquainted with her?” Gunna said, going straight to the point.
“I, er, yes. I had an acquaintance with her,” Hallur mumbled, and Gunna looked at him enquiringly. He raised his chin to speak clearly and met her gaze. “I did know her and I am deeply saddened by her unfortunate death.”
Soundbite talk, Gunna thought, wondering if or when the mask would be allowed to slip.
“I’m trying to track her movements leading up to her death. When did you see her last?”
“On the fourth. Ten days ago,” he replied promptly.
“You’re sure?”
Hallur nodded. “I checked my diary when I knew you were on the way. I had an idea what you’d want to ask me about.”
“And how did she strike you then?”
“As usual,” Hallur said with a shrug. “Lively, happy, excited at the possibility of being back on TV.”
“I take it she wasn’t going to be hosting any heavyweight political debates?”
“That’s an unkind comment, officer. She had an offer from a production company to front a fashion show of some kind.”
“D’you know the name of the company?” Gunna asked, jotting down notes.
“I’m sorry. We didn’t tend to discuss business.”
“What did you discuss, if you don’t mind my asking?”
A rivulet of perspiration made its way from the parting in Hallur’s groomed dark hair and came to rest in the stubble on his jaw. “All sorts. But I wouldn’t say we were close friends.”
“What sort of friends were you? Lovers?” Gunna asked. A jolt of discomfort passed through Hallur’s shoulders.
“We were… good friends,” he admitted finally.
“It seems an unusual friendship,” Gunna said drily. “A wellknown politician with a high-profile wife and some strong opinions, and a rather shallow woman. From what I’ve been able to make out, you couldn’t have had a great deal in common.”
“Sport, mostly. I trained at Fit Club once or twice a week when I was a city councillor. It was as good a reason as any for getting out of the building for an hour when the office politics were making me lose the will to live.”
Getting somewhere at last, Gunna thought.
“So you met Svana at Fit Club?”
“That’s right. We’d bump into each other once or twice a week and chat over a coffee.”
“And you continued to ‘bump into each other’ and ‘chat’ even when you’d stopped training at her club?”
Hallur nodded. “Svana had a very wide circle of acquaintances. A very disparate group of people.”
“All men?” Gunna observed.
He nodded again. “I don’t believe she had many close female friends. You understand?”
It was Gunna’s turn to nod. “You still haven’t told me the nature of your relationship, other than that you chatted occasionally over a latte. I have to tell you that you have been identified as a regular visitor to Svana’s apartment.”
Gunna could see that Hallur’s composure was gradually failing.
“This isn’t on record,” she continued, “and you’re not sworn to tell the truth, although I wouldn’t expect anything else of someone in your position.”
“This goes no further?”
“Unless it leads to material evidence that requires further investigation.”
Hallur’s shoulders dropped. “We were occasional lovers. I knew there were others and it didn’t bother her that I’m married. It was just physical … We’d meet up every couple of weeks and … y’know …” His voice tailed off as if he were a schoolboy caught with a pocketful of contraband.
“Always at her apartment?”
“Pretty much. We had a weekend once, in Copenhagen. But it wasn’t comfortable. There are so many Icelanders there that I was terrified of being spotted. This is confidential, isn’t it? It would destroy my marriage if this got out.”
Gunna bit back a caustic reply. “It’s between ourselves, as I said, unless this leads to material evidence that we need to pursue further. However, you mentioned that there were others?”
“Yes. Of course. I couldn’t expect her not to see other men. Svana was … how shall I put it? She liked to experiment.”
“We have people already identified as being Svana’s acquaintances in the same way that you were. But if you could provide names, it would help. As I said, we are making every effort to track down a killer, but it doesn’t help when much of the victim’s life was either right in the public gaze or else hidden completely.”
Hallur’s head bobbed in agreement and his trademark boyish smile began to reappear. “I know that Svana had several friendships. But I don’t have any names and I never asked.”
“In that case, I’ll leave you alone. For the moment, at least,” Gunna said, rising from the chair. Hallur was on his feet instantly and stepped around the desk with his hand held out. “I’d like to thank you for being discreet,” he breathed with a flash of the television smile.
“Anyway, thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch if we need to speak to you again.”
“Of course, please call if you need anything.”
He stood holding Gunna’s hand in his for longer than a usual handshake would warrant. “You know, officer. Would you be free for lunch sometime? I’d like to know more about the way the police work, from the inside, so to speak. Law and order is an issue that I have a deep interest in.”
Gunna extricated her fingers from Hallur’s soft but insistent grip. “Thank you. But that would hardly be appropriate as long as you’re a potential material witness, I’m afraid.”
“Maybe when the case is closed, then?”
“Possibly. Thanks for your time.”
Gunna clattered down the narrow wooden staircase from Hallur’s office. Outside, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“The cheeky randy bastard,” she muttered to herself, striding past Hotel Borg and toying with the thought of going inside to use the bathroom and wash the hand that Hallur had shaken.
THE AIR TASTED slightly stale and the flat no longer felt as if anyone lived there. The kitchen floor where Svana Geirs had twitched as she died in a widening pool of her own blood was scrubbed clean, as if the flat’s occupant had simply moved out. Gunna went from the kitchen to the living room, frowning as she wondered what she was actually looking for. The place was tidy and Svana Geirs’ belongings were all still where they belonged. Eiríkur and the technical team had taken only a few items that they felt needed to be fingerprinted or checked at the laboratory.
In the blue and pink bedroom the huge down quilt had been carefully folded into a square and placed on a corner of the mattress, while the sheets and duvet cover had been taken away to be checked. She slid back the door of the wardrobe that filled an entire wall and ran a hand over the expensive fabrics of the dresses and coats on hangers, wondering how many of these had ever actually been worn.
She went through the hangers one by one, checking the pockets of all the jackets and coats for anything that might have been left, but finding nothing. At the far end, behind a couple of colourful summer dresses that she doubted would see much use in a short Icelandic summer, and some revealing nightdresses, she found herself looking at two hangers that had been carefully pushed out of sight.