He gunned the Daihatsu past the old crossroads and slowed to stop at the new petrol station further along, resplendent in red plastic and polished concrete. He drank a stale coffee and filled the car’s tank with regret, mourning the old Brú truckstop, before heading north through the darkening landscape along unlit roads as Gunna was cursing the sleet between Selfoss and Reykjavík.
The first Christmas lights were on outside the Co-op as Helgi drove into Blönduós, parked the car and sat in silence, wondering why he had come.
‘You’re here, then.’
Helgi’s older sister hardly greeted him effusively, but he detected a little well-hidden warmth behind her few words.
‘Just a flying visit, Rúna.’
She hesitated and gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘Welcome home.’
He dropped his holdall by the kitchen door and sniffed. ‘Liver sausage?’
‘Yup. I know Halla doesn’t do that sort of stuff, so I brought a few home for you.’
Helgi nodded in silent appreciation. His young wife had little time for traditional food and was on a mission to help him lose a few kilos, her valiant attempts sabotaged whenever the heavy food of his upbringing was on offer.
‘So how’s Blönduós these days?’
Rúna shrugged. ‘Same as usual. Not much changes. Valdi’s at work. The boys are at college in Akureyri. I might be out of a job next year, I reckon.’
‘Not closing down?’
‘No. But there are fewer people about, so there’s less trade. I don’t know. I might just drop down to half days or something, just work mornings and leave it at that,’ she sighed. ‘I guess you’re here about the brothers from Tunga?’
Helgi nodded sadly as Rúna put a mug in front of him.
‘Thought so. The town’s been talking about it since yesterday. Going out there today, are you?’
‘No, tomorrow. I’ll have a word with Anna Björg today and go out to Tunga in the morning. Maybe have a beer at the hotel tonight, since I’m on expenses.’
‘She’s expecting you, is she?’
‘She should be. I emailed her before I left.’
‘She’ll be there, then. It makes a change to have a girl running the police here for a change.’
‘Anna Björg’s not a girl, Rúna. She’s my age — that’s ancient.’
‘She’s younger than I am, Helgi, so that’s young. She’s also recently single, so you watch your step, little brother. No revisiting old times,’ Rúna said with a ghost of a smile on her pinched face. ‘Dinner’s at six if Valdi’s back by then. So don’t be late.’
Gunna scowled as her computer whirred. She resented being in the office when she needed to be out asking questions, and was already missing both Helgi’s support and his company.
When the computer was ready to use, Gunna typed in the names of Katla Einarsdóttir and both of her sons, drawing a blank with Katla and Einar, but she whistled as she saw that Elmar Kjartansson had a significant police record in spite of his youth. She hit print and poured herself a mug of coffee while the printer in the corner whispered to itself, before sitting back to read through the list of convictions and the statements of the arresting officers.
She almost regretted not dragging the boy back to Reykjavík with her and letting him stew in an interview room for an hour or two. Elmar had spent three months in a low-security prison when he was eighteen years old for repeated thefts and petty drug offences, and had graduated to assault a year later after a drunken argument. The fact that he was on parole and was due to spend six months in prison once a place was available accounted for his nerves while she had questioned him in his mother’s kitchen, and she was furious at her own carelessness for not having looked up his records first.
She rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock, realizing that she had been on her feet since before seven that morning and it was going to be touch and go if she were to be home before seven as promised. She shut the computer down and stood up to leave. A look out of the window showed her that Ívar Laxdal, the National Commissioner’s Deputy and the man she reported to while the senior officer supposedly at the head of the serious crime unit was still on long-term sick leave, had already left.
On the way down the stairs she toyed with the idea of asking Herbert the cop in Selfoss to collect Elmar Kjartansson and bring him to Reykjavík, but on reflection, she decided against it. Whatever the boy had on his conscience, she felt it was unlikely to be murder, and his other misdemeanours could be dealt with by Herbert and the local force.
‘He’s as guilty as hell, but of what?’ she muttered to herself, fumbling in her coat pocket for her car key and watching the lights flash as she clicked the fob.
Helgi decided that it was killing two birds with one stone as he sat alone in the bar at the town’s only hotel and nursed a small beer. Anna Björg, the local police officer, had been delayed dealing with a road traffic accident on the main road a dozen miles away and had promised to meet him for a drink instead of in the more formal surroundings of the police station.
Schmaltzy seventies muzak oozed from a speaker somewhere over his head as he checked his phone for messages and sent Halla a text to let her know he had arrived. She hadn’t been delighted at his suddenly being sent out of town, but the prospect of a block of days off in lieu and the promised fitting of a new bathroom cabinet had mollified her.
He was wondering where Anna Björg was and considering calling her when cold air curled around his ankles as the hotel’s main door opened, heralding her arrival. Helgi stood up and saw her grin with pleasure at seeing him. She was stouter than he remembered and her face had a few lines that hadn’t been there last time they met, but the windblown flaxen hair and the red cheeks hadn’t changed.
‘Hæ, Helgi,’ she said, hugging him and bestowing a kiss on his cheek. ‘Sorry I’m late, but a truck came off the road between here and the Hook and we had to organize a tow truck to haul it out. I was so covered in mud afterwards that I had to go home and change.’
‘No problem. As you’re out of uniform, can I get you a beer?’
‘Duh. Stupid question, city boy. But you’re a guest here so I’ll get them,’ she said decisively. ‘Go on, sit yourself down.’
Two beers arrived as Helgi was staring out of the window into the blackness beyond. Anna Björg lifted hers high to clink glasses.
‘Skál. Now, what brings you back to these old haunts? But first, how have you been keeping?’
‘Oh, you know. Middle age starting to kick in with a vengeance now.’
‘And the little ones? Two, three of them?’
‘Two,’ Helgi sighed. ‘Svavar’s four now and Vala’s eighteen months.’
Anna Björg shook her head. ‘Hardcore, Helgi, starting all that stuff a second time round. You must be a machine,’ she laughed and watched Helgi’s pained expression. ‘Ah, but I needed that,’ she said, finishing her beer while Helgi was barely halfway through his.
‘And you?’ he asked. ‘How’ve you been?’
She rolled the empty glass in her hands. ‘Ach. Y’know. Work, work, work. The summer was great and I spent plenty of it on horseback. But it’ll be snowing soon.’
‘How many horses now?’
‘Only eight.’
‘Only?’
‘Well. After Gussi moved away, he decided he didn’t want anything to do with horses ever again, so I kept hold of them all, and the stable. I should have figured out years ago that horses are better than men.’
‘There’s nobody else, then?’
‘Not right now. There was someone after Gussi.’ She shrugged. ‘He liked the uniform and the handcuffs, but he didn’t like dogs or horses, so he had to go.’