‘So how frequently do these houses get cleaned?’
‘Normally at the end of the lease, and again before they’re let if there’s a gap of more than a week or so between people moving out and others moving in. Some tenants also take up the option of having the place cleaned for them once or twice a week, but not this one.’
‘And Kópavogsbakki fifty? Had people moved out or were they about to move in?’
Viggó looked blank. ‘You’ll have to ask the agent. We just get a call asking for a cleaning squad.’
‘I thought you said you could tell me anything I need to know?’ Gunna said and watched Viggó’s face turn pink. She opened her folder. ‘All right, let’s try another tack, shall we? The three cleaners who were there, Valmira Vukoja, Natalia Rodriguez and Emilija Plaudis. All reliable staff, are they? They’ve all been with you for some years?’
‘Small, Medium and Large, I call them.’ Viggó laughed, but the laughter died on his lips as Gunna looked at him impassively. He coughed. ‘Small — Natalia — she’s been here the longest, seven or eight years. She started here when my old man was still running the company.’
‘Small?’ Gunna asked and Viggó quailed at the sight of her frown.
‘Yeah,’ he explained with a careless, forced laugh. ‘Those three always work together. Natalia’s the little one with the temper, Emilija’s a sort of normal shape and size, and Vala’s the big fat one.’ He laughed again while Gunna looked at him stone-faced.
‘I see,’ she said eventually as the grin faded from Viggó’s face. ‘Very flattering, I’m sure. I take it all their work permits and papers are in order?’
Viggó opened his mouth and closed it again. ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘They all have identity numbers and they pay tax, so they have to be legal,’ he added triumphantly.
‘How long have Emilija and Valmira worked for you?’ Gunna asked. She knew the answer but wanted to see if Viggó knew as well.
‘Since around 2009, I think. After the crash.’
‘You must have records of their employment history.’
‘You want me to look it up?’
‘That’s what I’m here for.’
Viggó opened a laptop in front of him and waited for it to whirr into life, leaning over it with his chin in one hand and an elbow on the desk. He tapped and prodded at the keyboard with his free hand.
‘Small started here in March 2006,’ he said.
‘Natalia, you mean?’
‘Yeah, Natalia. Large-’
‘Valmira?’
Viggó coughed. ‘Yeah. She started here in February 2009 and Medium. Sorry, Emilija, started in April.’
‘Any problems with any of them?’
Viggó’s eyes stayed on the screen in front of him. ‘No, not really. Small-’
‘Natalia.’
‘Yeah, Natalia,’ he corrected himself. ‘She’s late now and again, but that’s all. She can be a bit of a handful, and she has a temper. You know what these fiery Latin types are like.’ He laughed.
‘Not really, but I’ll take your word for it,’ Gunna said, taking notes. ‘And the other two?’
‘They’re no problem at all, work hard and no complaints.’
‘You mean from them or the customers?’
‘Of course I get complaints from them. I mean, they’re women, aren’t they?’ Viggó said and a second hollow laugh died in the face of Gunna’s stare. ‘No complaints from the clients, no. Never, in fact.’
‘Perfect staff, you might say?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘I’m sure they appreciate being referred to as Small, Medium and Large. Now, which agent lets the house on Kópavogsbakki fifty?’
‘Listen, I have a little job for you.’
Gunna heard Eiríkur sigh into the phone and carefully suppressed the urge to tell him to get a grip. Privately she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was tired after a month of paternity leave, the new baby’s arrival had been stressful — premature by several weeks — and Eiríkur’s wife had not had an easy time of it.
‘Go on.’
‘I need you to get on to the Directorate of Immigration and ask for details of some people. Nothing fancy, just how long they’ve lived here and if they’re fully legal. The names are Valmira Vukoja, Natalia Rodriguez and Emilija Plaudis,’ she said, and reeled off the three ten-digit national identity numbers.
‘All right. Want me to call you back with on that?’
‘Only if there’s anything that looks urgent. Otherwise it can wait until I’m back. You might want to run those names through our system as well, just to be sure.’
‘OK, will do,’ he said with a little more enthusiasm, indicating that the old Eiríkur might be back, and Gunna felt some relief as she looked at the floor-to-ceiling windows in smoked plate glass behind which she expected to find LuxRental.
The place didn’t look as busy as it might once have been, but she made allowances for it also being early in the day. The open-plan office stretched back into the distance, and as she walked through the nests of cubicles, it seemed that fewer than half of them were in use as pairs of curious eyes followed her.
‘Can I help you?’
The reception desk was situated in an odd position in the middle of the long room, an island in the midst of a sea of squares made up of four cubicles each. A young man with round glasses and hair that stuck up at an alarming angle looked expectant.
‘I’m interested in Kópavogsbakki fifty,’ Gunna said, giving him a smile. ‘I understand it’s empty.’
‘Er. . Yes. I think so. If you wait a moment I’ll see if I can find someone to help you. Take a seat,’ he invited. ‘There’s fresh coffee in the flask,’ he added, indicating a small table next to a deep sofa against the wall.
Gunna sat back and waited, a cup of fragrant black coffee in her hand, as she flipped through her notes from the meeting with Viggó Jakobsson and looked up to see an older version of the young man in front of her, beaming a chiselled smile at her from beneath coiffured grey hair instead of a gelled-up quiff.
‘Good morning, I’m Óttar Sveinsson. I gather you’re interested in one of the houses on Kópavogsbakki? We deal with several of those properties, but they are rather exclusive and the costs match that exclusivity, you see,’ he said and Gunna felt immediately that she was being put in her place as someone who didn’t look wealthy enough to afford a house with quite such an exclusive sea view.
Gunna returned Óttar Sveinsson’s fixed smile. ‘It’s actually Kópavogsbakki fifty in particular that I’m interested in, as I gather it’s recently become vacant. That’s right, isn’t it?’
He sat down next to her on the sofa, perched on the edge and holding a sheaf of papers in his lap. ‘Actually there are a few technical issues with Kópavogsbakki fifty that we expect to be resolved in a few days. Essential maintenance. But that means that the property is temporarily off-limits for viewing. Maybe we could interest you in other properties in the same area?’
Gunna hauled herself unwillingly from the sofa’s clinging embrace to perch on its edge next to him. She dug in her pocket for her wallet and flipped open her identification. Óttar Sveinsson blanched.
‘I’m only interested in Kópavogsbakki fifty, and as I already have a house of my own, I’m not looking for somewhere to live, thanks.’
He gulped. ‘I’m not sure we can supply that kind of confidential information. Client confidentiality and all that,’ he said with a weak, apologetic smile.
‘You can, I assure you.’ Gunna could see his resolve weakening. ‘In fact, I’m sure Viggó Jakobsson has already given you an idea of what’s going on. As something that doesn’t look good has happened in a property that you’re responsible for and have access to, it might be in your interest to be co-operative.’