“Statement, yes. Don’t know about a lift, though. We’re a bit short-handed today and a car down as well.”
“Then put him in a taxi and tell the driver to take him to Hvalvík without going past the booze shop,” Gunna instructed. “And Skari?”
“Yeah?”
“Give your mum my regards when you get home, would you?”
HELGI DROVE, KEEPING steadily to the speed limit as cars and trucks whistled past them in the outside lane of Reykjanesbraut. As they passed the spot where she and Laufey had come across the accident a few days before, Gunna could see nothing to indicate that anything had ever happened there. “Hæ, Eiríkur. Can you hear me?” She called into her mobile. Suddenly the car emerged from the black spot and she could hear him perfectly.
“Anything on that note?”
“Nothing much. No dabs. It’s printed on an ordinary laser printer of some kind, but there are thousands of those in use, so that’s no help. Nothing special about the paper, either. There are a few prints on the envelope, but nothing that we’ve been able to identify so far. We’re working on it, but I reckon they’re more than likely Hallur’s own.”
“But we fingerprinted him to eliminate him from Svana’s flat, didn’t we? So we’ll have those prints on file. Check the dabs, would you, and let me know as soon as you have anything?”
She ended the call and sat brooding in the front seat, hands in her coat pockets, watching the lampposts flash past.
“Was Svana being blackmailed, or was she doing the blackmailing? If so, is that why someone broke her head open, possibly with her own baseball bat?”
“Where to, chief?” Helgi asked as they approached the Hafnarfjördur outskirts.
“Skari had nothing to do with anything recent. All this stuff going on around Svana Geirs and her syndicate, it’s nothing to do with him. The same goes for Ommi. So who stands to gain on all this? Who’s doing the blackmailing? Is it someone who knows which of these bastards killed Svana, or is the person who killed Svana trying to cash in on the others? Someone within the syndicate? Högni, maybe?”
“You know, I don’t bloody know. It gets more complex by the minute,” Helgi grumbled. “A few straightforward break-ins would be nice for a change.”
“If that’s the case,” Gunna went on, as if Helgi had said
nothing, “why so little? Twenty-five thousand euros is a stack of money for you or me, but for any of these high-flyers like Jónas Valur or Hallur, it’s small change.”
“Unless it’s not about the money.”
“It’s always about the money.”
“I mean, if it’s a smokescreen of some kind.”
“Could be, I suppose,” Gunna conceded, unconvinced. “I’d like you to dig into Hallur’s basement again today.”
“Where to, chief?” Helgi asked again. “Back to the station first?”
“Ach. Let’s take a little ride around Kópavogur on the way, shall we? There’s nothing like staying away from the shop for five minutes to stimulate the grey matter. There’s a bakery at Hamraborg, so we can stop for an early lunch break.”
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Gunna bustled past Sigvaldi at the desk with her phone at her ear, but was rewarded with only Eiríkur’s voicemail. On the way up the stairs, she met Sævaldur on the way down for the second time that day.
“We’re going to have to stop meeting like this, Gunnhildur,” he warned her.
“Nothing to worry about, Sævaldur,” she shot back. “Nobody would ever believe it.”
Sævaldur stopped a few steps past her. “The guy who topped Bjartmar. He’s the one who sent all those blackmail demands. Thought of that?”
“Come on.”
“All right. So there’s an accomplice.”
Gunna stopped and looked back at him. “Like who?”
“Like his wife. It’s obvious enough.”
“You are joking, surely?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good grief,” Gunna muttered to herself, making her way back up and leaving Sævaldur on the stairs.
Back at her desk, she remembered that Eiríkur was busy. She drummed the desk with her fingers and dialled Helgi.
“Any joy?” she demanded as soon as he replied.
“Sod all. The man has reams of paperwork and at least half a dozen bank accounts. His wife was delighted to find a couple with a good bit of cash in them that she didn’t know about. No big withdrawals, though.”
“Fair enough. Going to be long?”
“No, don’t think so.”
“All right. Eiríkur’s running an errand for me elsewhere, and I think it’s time I had another chat with Jónas Valur. I’ve been handed copies of half a dozen letters he’s received.”
“I’m sure he’ll be delighted when you show up. You don’t want to wait for me and we’ll go mob-handed?”
“No, just give me a call when you’re finished and on the way back here. It feels like it’s been a bloody long day. I’ll see if I can find Jónas Valur and then go home from there.”
THERE WAS NO sign of life at Kleifar’s offices. Gunna rattled the door and got no response. She stepped back and looked at the building’s corrugated-iron plates that had once been red but were now closer to pink after decades of alternate sun and rain. She crossed the street for a better view and noticed a faint light behind one of the windows, as if an internal door had been left open. Curious, she walked to the corner of the building in the hope of being able to see through one of the end windows, but there was nothing but darkness.
Back in front of the building, she was about to give up when the faint light winked off. She rattled the door a second time. Again there was no response, and this time she walked quickly to the far end of the building and round the corner, where she could see Jónas Valur’s black Mercedes tucked away in a corner of the car park, enclosed on three sides by the backs of buildings. Suddenly the car’s internal light came on and Gunna hurried towards it.
Jónas Valur had emerged from the back door of the building, hauling behind him a suitcase on wheels that bumped down the steps. “Good evening, Jónas Valur. Going away somewhere?” Gunna asked as the car park’s security light clicked on and flooded them with its harsh glow.
Taken unawares, Jónas Valur didn’t even bother to hide his scowl of displeasure.
“This is bordering on harassment, Sergeant,” he groaned.
“Quite the contrary. I’ve been very gentle and understanding.”
“Look, I’ve had you or your colleagues prowling around for days, dogging my tracks and asking all kinds of questions about my movements. Don’t you think enough is enough?”
“When you’ve answered all my questions truthfully, then enough will be enough,” Gunna said, unfolding a sheet of paper from her pocket and handing it to him.
“What’s this?”
“Have a look. I’m wondering if it’s something familiar.”
He held it out at arm’s length and shook his head.
“Rubbish,” he said unconvincingly.
“And how many of these notes have you received?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he rasped, handing the note back to her.
“It’s a copy. Keep it and compare it to the rest of your collection,” Gunna told him. “Now, you wouldn’t be Shorty by any chance, would you?”
“Who the hell are you?” Jónas Valur grated, and Gunna saw the man’s eyes widening with surprise as he glared past her. She was halfway through turning to look over her shoulder when her head felt as if something had exploded next to her and she sensed the taste of iron on her tongue as the world went black.
• • •
GUNNA SHIVERED AND wondered why she was unable to move. She knew she was lying on her back, and lifted her right hand to put it to her throbbing head. She kept her eyes firmly closed, sensing that opening them was going to hurt.