“Yeah, but that was different. There was only me and old Haddi at the station here, so we both had to do a bit of everything, and Haddi was quite happy to sit in peace and quiet and look after the paperwork.”
Gunna hauled herself to her feet. “Well, Laufey’s disappointed you’re not going.”
“Why’s that?”
“Krummi. She was really looking forward to having a rabbit living in our bathroom.”
“Where are we going now?” Helgi asked. “You know, we hard-working public servants have enough to be getting on with. Especially when some of those public servants ought to be at home nursing a sore head.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“Why so secretive?” Helgi asked, looking sideways at the determined side of Gunna that he had heard of but never seen close at hand.
Gunna sighed and brought the car almost to a halt so she could check the café’s interior.
“Here?”
“Yup.”
“Why?” Helgi asked, baffled.
Gunna screwed up her eyes against the bright midday sun that she felt was trying to drill holes in her head and strolled across the road. She pushed open the door, nodded to someone Helgi could hardly see in a corner and poured coffee for both Helgi and herself at the counter, offering a note to the darkeyed girl behind the till. She handed Helgi his mug and nodded towards another table in the far corner, where Helena Rós’ gaze followed Gulli Olafs’ as he looked in horror at Gunna and Helgi bearing down on them.
Gunna smiled broadly, taking a seat at the end of the table. “How sweet. The wronged wife and the investigative journalist meeting for lattes in a bookshop café.”
Both looked embarrassed as Gunna sat back and surveyed them, while Helgi pulled up a chair next to her.
“We’re … er …” Gulli Olafs floundered.
“Gunnlaugur is writing an article about this whole affair,” Helena Rós said sharply. “He wanted to interview me about Hallur’s part in it. Haven’t I helped you enough with all this already?” she asked, her voice petulant.
“Certainly,” Gunna said. “My officers have spent a lot of time trawling through your husband’s effects. How is he, by the way?”
“As close to being brain-dead as before,” Helena Rós snapped back.
“Now I’m wondering if we were looking in the right places.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that I’d like you to accompany my colleague here. He’s going to go to your house once again for another look around, while Gulli has a chat with me.”
Helena Rós’ face was set as firm as rock. “Am I under arrest for something?”
“Not so far,” Gunna said coolly, opening her briefcase to pull out a file. “But that’s an option if you decline to cooperate.”
Helgi looked puzzled. Gunna opened the file and extracted some sheets of paper that she placed on the table. “Of course, these are just copies, as the originals are still at the lab.”
Gunna watched the blood drain from Gulli Ólafs’ face as he saw what had been put in front of them.
“Can we, er … can we take this somewhere else?” he said in a strained voice.
“We’re just about to do that, don’t you worry,” Gunna told him, and turned to Helgi. “See if you can rustle up a patrol car to take this lady home, would you? When you get there, you’ll need to impound all the computers and printers in the house.”
“How dare you!” Helena Rós spluttered, her cheeks acquiring pink spots of fury beneath the make-up.
“And you,” Gunna continued, transferring her attention to Gulli Ólafs, “I’m asking you to come with me to your office and we’ll go through the same procedure there.”
The tension that had been gnawing at her all morning had disappeared, replaced by a serene calmness that she knew would be followed later by a draining exhaustion.
“I want to make a statement,” Gulli Ólafs said abruptly while Helgi muttered into his communicator.
“And so do I,” Helena Rós spat.
“All in good time,” Gunna assured her, as a patrol car appeared outside and two officers emerged from it.
“Magic, chief. Eiríkur should be here in a few minutes as well,” Helgi assured her. “Shall we go?” he asked Helena Rós in a voice that left her in no doubt that she had no option.
“What about my car?”
“One of these gentlemen will bring it, if you’ll give him the keys, and we’ll go in the patrol car.”
Helena Rós numbly handed over a bunch of keys hung with a fluffy effigy of a white dog, and Helgi took her elbow in his hand as they made their way over the road, leaving Gunna facing Gulli Ólafs.
Her face hardened and she glowered as Gulli Ólafs began to shrink into his chair. “Do you want to make a statement at the station, or do you want to tell me the story?”
“Jesus… I, er … I don’t think I should … I mean …”
“Make sense, will you?” Gunna’s finger stabbed at the transparent folder on the table. “You wrote these, right? I don’t doubt that we’ll be able to trace these documents to a computer you have access to, and we’ll match the inks to your office printer without too much trouble.”
“God… Yes, I wrote a couple of notes and posted them to that evil old bastard Jónas Valur. But I didn’t do anything more than that.”
“Where’s the money?”
“Money?”