‘Oslo. I got a flight home last night. Borgar and I are still married on paper, so I’m his next of kin, I suppose, and someone has to deal with everything. I can’t expect his brothers to do much.’
‘When did you last see him?’
‘The day after the trial.’
‘Almost five years ago. Were you in the process of divorcing him, or what?’
‘It was happening but there was no hurry. It’s not as if Borgar and I were likely to run into one another.’
‘Was your relationship amicable?’
Hafdís sighed. ‘What do you think?’
‘I don’t know. I never met him and have no idea what he was like. That’s why I’m asking.’
‘We spoke when we had to, although it’s not easy trying to discuss a divorce settlement with someone who’s only on the end of a payphone for a few hours a day. The children miss him, but they’re not aware of the whole story. They were teenagers when he was. .’ She gulped. ‘When Borgar was sent to prison.’
‘You knew he was out on parole?’
‘When your boss called me yesterday was the first I knew of it.’
Gunna opened her mouth to put Hafdís right, but decided against it.
‘Tell me about Turkey.’
Hafdís dropped her gaze to the table between them. ‘We had planned to move there one day; there, or somewhere in North Cyprus.’
‘How far did you take that?’
‘Well,’ she said uncertainly, ‘to be quite honest, I’m not entirely sure. We had been there several times before the children were born and we had some friends there, although they were more Borgar’s friends than mine and I haven’t had contact with them since I moved to Norway.’
‘Did you invest there?’
‘Not to my knowledge,’ she said and a look of frustration crossed her face. ‘But I never knew how much money Borgar’s businesses had. Sometimes we were awash with spare cash. Sometimes there was hardly enough to buy food or pay any bills. He wasn’t an easy man to live with.’
‘So you don’t know if there were any investments there, or if Borgar had any business in Turkey?’
‘Who knows? Why?’ she demanded as if a sudden realization had just dawned on her. ‘What do you know? I’m his next of kin so whatever assets Borgar had are legally mine.’
Gunna sat back, pleased that she had pressed the right button. ‘I don’t have anything concrete. Just a few leads that I still have to follow up. Who had a grudge against your husband? Who might have had enough of a grudge to want him dead?’
This time Hafdís sat back as if she had been slapped. ‘So many people,’ she said bitterly. ‘He had screwed so many people for money it was unbelievable. Why do you think I wanted to leave the country? I used to have a comfortable life, of sorts. Living with Borgar was never predictable. But now I’ve had to go back to work to support the children while their father was in jail for that stupid drunken escapade. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t told him. I always knew he’d do something like that one day.’
‘Any names?’ Gunna asked.
‘There’s Henning who ran the boatyard, which was about the only business Borgar had that was steady. Losing that hit him hard and I did feel sorry for him. But the rest of them were the same wide boys as Borgar and it’s difficult to feel any sympathy for them if they lost some money. They’d have done exactly the same to him.’
‘Mæja?’ Anna Björg looked puzzled. ‘I was on traffic duty all day on Sunday. I saw Ingi Aronsson heading north on Sunday morning and around midday I saw Hjörtur Sighvats coming this way. That’s Mæja’s husband.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. Hjörtur drives a big Econoline van that they travel around the country in sometimes. You can’t miss it, plus he waved as he went past.’
Helgi’s fingers formed a steeple in front of his face as he thought. ‘He wouldn’t have gone back to work that night?’
Anna Björg shook her head. ‘I doubt it. But I can check,’ she decided, phone to her ear while Helgi went back to the fish and potatoes that had been forgotten in front of him.
His talk with Mæja that morning had left him disturbed. Her agitation had been palpable and it was clear that she was terrified, although he wasn’t sure if this was because of Reynir himself or if she was more frightened of her husband.
Anna Björg returned and sat down opposite him. ‘Hjörtur Sighvats was on a four-day shift that ended at eight on Sunday morning,’ she said. ‘I spoke to the supervisor at the power station and he confirmed it. Hjörtur goes back to work tonight.’
‘So you reckon Mæja is lying to protect Reynir?’
‘Who knows? You’re from round here, Helgi. You know what people are like. Sometimes it’s a nightmare figuring out just why someone does something, and sometimes there’s no reason to it.’
‘I know,’ Helgi said gloomily. ‘Why do you think I left?’
‘I always thought it was because Halla wanted to live in Reykjavík?’
‘That was part of it. Anyway, how long has this been going on between Mæja and Reynir? And is it Reynir or her husband that she’s so frightened of?’
‘It’s been going on for years. There can hardly be anyone in the place who doesn’t know about it.’
‘Apart from Hjörtur?’
‘Yes. Except Hjörtur.’
‘He goes to work at the power station and Reynir moves in for a couple of nights to keep his bed and his wife warm for him? Could you maybe speak to Mæja while I go out to Tunga again?’
Anna Björg looked dubious. ‘It’s up to you, but you’re sure you want to be going there alone?’
‘So if Reynir wasn’t with Mæja, where was he? In Reykjavík dealing with big brother Kjartan’s unfinished business?’ he asked as his phone began to buzz.
It was late in the evening and Helgi was tired, knowing that it would be hours before he would be able to shut his eyes. Reynir hadn’t gone happily, snarling angrily as Helgi and Anna Björg escorted him from the farmhouse at Tunga, the old lady, a scowling Össur and a newly arrived Ingi watching with worried eyes as they marched him across the farmyard in the gathering gloom. Anna Björg had been all for using handcuffs. Against his own better instincts, Helgi decided to do without them. As they walked him from the car into the police station, he felt the muscles in Reynir’s arm tense and tighten for a second, as if ready to explode, and he braced himself for a fight before Reynir relaxed.
Reynir looked smaller than his usual outdoors self, a different character once out of his natural environment, as if cowed by the artificial light and the formal atmosphere of the police station.
‘Reynir from Tunga?’ asked Anna Björg’s colleague, Arnar, a young man on his first posting who spent most of his time in the western half of the county. Reynir’s reputation had clearly gone before him.
‘Yes, Arnar. That’s Reynir from Tunga in that cell and we’re going to have our work cut out now,’ she said grimly. ‘I’d like you to sit in with Helgi, to start with at least. I have a few other enquiries to deal with right now.’
The interview began late, delayed by the difficulty of tracking down a lawyer to represent Reynir, but when the puffing, elderly man finally arrived with profuse apologies, Helgi set the computer to record and went through the formalities.
‘You know why you’re here?’
‘I can guess,’ Reynir said in a truculent tone. ‘Something to do with Borgar Jónsson, I’d say, and someone giving the bastard who killed Kjartan’s boy what he deserved.’
‘Where were you on Sunday?’
Reynir shrugged. ‘At home. Did a bit of work in the barn, but I didn’t tire myself out. Stayed in all afternoon, watched the football. Arsenal won.’
‘I have a sighting of that Land Cruiser in your yard down south on Sunday.’
‘Not me. Sorry, Helgi,’ Reynir grinned. ‘And I told you where I was on Sunday night.’
‘That’s just it. Mæja’s Hjörtur wasn’t at work on Sunday night, so you could hardly have been keeping Hjörtur’s bed warm for him.’