“Yeah …” Skari answered slowly. “You mean the guy who owned the place?”
“That’s him. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“I was on the door. So?” Skari said, eyes wide with confusion. “So was Ommi. Bjartmar was there as well. So was the lad who had his brains scrambled when your mate Ommi gave him a beating in the car park out the back. Did you maybe have something to do with it as well? Is that what happened?”
“I was out the front. Didn’t see anything,” Skari said quickly. “The coppers took a statement off me then.”
“I know,” Gunna said. “I’ve read your statement and all the other statements. I’m wondering how it all ties up so neatly and why Ommi admitted it quite so quickly and quietly. Not like him, you’ll have to agree.”
“Dunno. You’ll have to ask him,” Skari replied, retreating into his taciturn persona.
“I will,” Gunna said. “Don’t you worry.”
“You’ll have to catch him first.”
“Ah, but I’ll be having a long talk with Ommi this afternoon, and there’s plenty I’ll be asking him about, including Blacklights.”
“You’ve caught him?” Skari yelped, almost sitting up in spite of the pain in his broken ribs.
But Gunna was already on her feet and Bjössi looked at Skari with a grin, tapping the side of his nose.
Outside the hospital Bjössi tapped a filterless Camel from its packet and lit up with relief. He proffered the packet, but Gunna shook her head. She unwrapped a stick of chewing gum and popped it in her cheek.
“Given up, have you? What’s that about? Is this Steini’s influence?” Bjössi asked.
“Hell, no,” Gunna groaned. “This is Laufey Oddbjörg’s doing.”
“How so?” he asked, exhaling a plume of harsh smoke.
“My daughter,” Gunna said with a shake of her head. “One morning she says, ‘Mum, when are you going to stop smoking?’”
“‘Don’t know, hadn’t thought about it,’ I said. “All right,” says Laufey. “‘Maybe I’ll start if you don’t give up.’ So I had to stop and think for a minute.”
“Got a mind of her own, hasn’t she?” Bjössi observed. “I wonder where she gets that from? How old is she now?”
“Fifteen going on twenty, I reckon. Bright as you like, but hard work.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” Bjössi decided. “Give her my kindest regards, won’t you? Is she going to college?”
“So she says. Psychology’s what she has her sights set on at the moment, but it could be something else by next week. A few months ago she wanted to be a vet, but that seems to have dropped off the radar at the moment. How about yours?”
“Same as ever. The lad just wants to take cars apart all day long. That’s all he’s interested in, it seems, apart from girls, obviously.”
“Goes without saying if he’s your son, Bjössi. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep an eye on Skari. I’ll be back to have more words with him once we’ve given Ommi the third degree. Can I haul you in on that?”
“Pleasure, as always,” Bjössi said. “What was the case you were asking him about? What was it Long Ommi did?”
“Don’t you remember? Damn, I was on sick leave just then,” Gunna said, and the old feeling of loss came hurtling back.
“Of course. It was just after Raggi died, wasn’t it? Hard to believe it was that long ago.”
“Almost ten years,” Gunna said bleakly, and shook herself.
“It was a fight, wasn’t it? A young man got a hell of a beating and died of his injuries without regaining consciousness. There were only a few scared witnesses, who wouldn’t say much. Ommi fessed up, nice as pie, if I remember correctly. It was one of old Thorfinnur’s last cases before he retired.”
“Rumour has it that it wasn’t Ommi, though.”
Bjössi looked suddenly surprised. “Really? I just remember the petty crime rate went down quite sharply as soon as he was out of circulation.”
“By all accounts, Ommi was too co-operative: hands up and ‘it’s a fair cop’ sort of thing. I’ve been hearing whispers that he took the rap for someone else in return for being well looked after,” Gunna said grimly. “And I’d love to know who he’s been standing in for.”
“Want the good news, chief?” Helgi grinned with unaccustomed joy.
“Örlygur Sveinsson’s decided to come and give us a hand for a couple of days?” Gunna hazarded.
“Not that good.”
“Go on, don’t keep a lady in suspense.”
“It’s the prints from Svana’s flat. Positively identified, the cleaner’s prints in the hallway.”
“Which we knew we would.”
“There’s Svana’s brother’s prints, and Tinna Sigvalds, the police officer who was first on the scene.” Helgi read from the printout in front of him, holding it at arm’s length so as to be able to see without having to fumble for his glasses.
“Again, we knew Tinna’s prints would be on the door at least. So what’s your bombshell, Sherlock?”
“We have Hallur Hallbjörnsson all over the bathroom and the bedroom. Bjarki Steinsson’s prints in the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom, and the big fat man’s prints practically everywhere.”
“You mean Jónas Valur Hjaltason?”
“That’s the guy.”
“And the other miscreant?”
“Bjartmar Arnarson is conspicuous by his absence. But there’s a joker in the pack as well.”
“Which is?”
“Long Ommi.”
“What?”