“Oh, be still my beating heart. Another hour with a soulless bean-counter. It’d be fantastic if we could get the knife with Ommi’s prints on it, wouldn’t it? You want Ommi brought in?”
“Oh, yes. As soon as poss. We’ll sling the book at the bastard.”
“All arranged for early tomorrow. These guys sleep late, shouldn’t be a problem to give him a surprise wake-up call.”
“Sounds good. Come off past the petrol station. Bjartmar’s office is at the top there.”
Helgi parked between a sleek Mercedes and a Land Cruiser on tyres that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a truck.
“After you, chief,” he said gallantly as Gunna pushed open the door.
Bjartmar looked up from the table in the corner where three people were talking over empty cups. He smiled, stood up and came over, hand extended.
“Gunnhildur, isn’t it? Come in,” he said with a friendliness that took her off guard. He led the way to a conference room with a view overlooking the busy main road outside. “Take a seat, please. Coffee?”
“No thanks. But I expect Helgi wouldn’t say no,” she told him as she settled herself in a leather chair so soft it felt like sinking into warm mud.
“No news on the fire, I suppose?” he asked, a pained expression appearing across the strong features that were more relaxed and, she had to admit to herself, more handsome than those of the jet-lagged, unshaven man she had interviewed at Keflavík airport only two days ago. Bjartmar’s hair had been cut and his shirt was pressed and smart, open at the neck to show a fine gold chain. His attention was entirely on Gunna, and Helgi sat ignored, wondering if coffee was going to appear after all.
“No breakthroughs, I’m afraid. The technical division is working through a pile of forensic evidence that might help, or it might not. The fire was definitely petrol, though.”
“Both our cars are, were, diesel. There was a small petrol can in there for the lawnmower, though it could have been empty for all I know. But that would never have been enough for a blaze like that, surely?”
“How’s your wife?” Gunna asked bluntly, and Bjartmar’s eyes lifted.
“No idea,” he said with a shrug. “We don’t communicate a lot.”
“Svanhildur Mjöll Sigurgeirsdóttir,” Helgi broke in. “She was found dead in her apartment a week ago and we have good reason to believe that you had a relationship of some kind with her. Would you explain?”
Bjartmar’s smile froze for a second, then thawed as he looked over at Helgi before focusing his attention back on Gunna. “I’ve known Svana for years, since she was in the Cowgirls. That’s going back ten, twelve years. Why are you asking me this?”
Helgi planted his elbows on the polished wood of the table and Bjartmar winced at the sight of his greasy anorak. “We understand there was a syndicate, a group of prominent men who shared her favours, and that you’re a member of this group. Is that correct?”
“It is,” he said with only a flicker of rapidly stifled irritation.
“When we spoke before, you mentioned that your marriage had been rocky for some time,” Gunna said quietly. “You didn’t attempt to hide it and you certainly gave the impression that you and Unnur were likely to part company shortly. I’m given to understand that you have another relationship now?”
“This is personal,” Bjartmar said stiffly.
“It certainly could be,” Helgi said gruffly. “It could be very personal if whoever killed Svana Geirs also tried to kill your wife.”
Bjartmar’s jaw hung slack for a second. “Do you really think …?”
“We don’t know. But it’s an angle we have to consider and there are a few things we need to ask you about,” Gunna said.
“God. Hell, yes, anything. Ask away if it helps.”
“First, the syndicate. We have a pretty clear idea of how this operated, and the legal department are now deciding whether or not to proceed with prosecutions.”
“Prosecutions? Why?”
“Because it appears that offences have been committed in purchasing sexual services.”
“It was a consensual private arrangement between adults.”
“Were you a member of the syndicate from the start?”
“We all were. There have never been any new members. Actually, I’d more or less dropped out and hadn’t seen Svana for a while.”
“Why?”
Bjartmar’s eyes sparkled, although his face remained set. “I met a new lady and we’re getting on just fine.”
“And you even bought her a business?” Gunna asked.
“Look, where did you hear that from?” he demanded angrily. “That’s a private matter. As it happens, I already owned a controlling share in the place and bought out my partner. Then I asked … my new partner to manage it, and she has, very competently.”
“Is that partner as in business partner, or partner as in girlfriend?” Helgi asked.
“Both.”
“And your wife? Is she still a business partner as well?”
“I suppose so.”
“And how is her restaurant doing now that she’s not available?”
“Better, thanks. The chef’s running things for the moment and it’s going a lot more smoothly without Unnur in charge. I might keep him on.”