“Selma knows a lot of it, certainly more than she’s letting on. What I really want to know is the Ommi-Bjartmar-Svana triangle. How do these three tie up? What are the links? Who owes who a favour? Who did Ommi do time for, and in return for what? If there was some kind of a deal, why abscond? Is Ommi acting on his own initiative or what? Did he do a runner because of something happening outside? If so, what? Was it Bjartmar he was doing the time for?”
Eiríkur looked blank. “I’ve no idea, chief. Really no idea. It’s like talking to a wall in there. I don’t know how long Addi the Pill has been sampling his own merchandise, but the guy is completely spaced out.”
Gunna shuffled through papers on her desk and screwed up tired eyes to look at the screen of her computer, scrolling through new emails and deleting as she went until only a few remained. She clicked Shut Down and stood up.
“All right, gents. We’ve done a long day’s crimebusting and I’ve had enough. Time to go home.”
They all three took gulps of fresh, cold air in the car park after a day inside. Helgi was fumbling for his keys as a patrol car entered the car park and drove straight to the admittance bay.
“Eight tomorrow, Helgi? I have a feeling that overtime isn’t going to be a problem for the next week or two, or at least until we have Svana Geirs sorted out.”
“Suits me,” Helgi said. “My exhaust’s on its last legs and a bit of overtime wouldn’t do any harm.”
Gunna squinted into the gloom and could make out Tinna Sigvaldsdóttir, the slightly built officer who had been first on the scene of Svana Geirs’ murder, getting out of the driver’s seat of the patrol car while her beefy male colleague emerged from the rear seat and a heavily built man in a leather jacket was unceremoniously hauled out with his hands cuffed behind him. Gunna caught a glimpse of a florid face, and even in the half-light and at a distance, she sensed that the man was drunk. The face was vaguely familiar and she wondered where from.
“Another pisshead, I expect,” Eiríkur said without a second glance.
“Ach, you don’t remember what it was like when we had real drunks in this country. Hard men who’d be on the piss for a week or more and travelled round in taxis with the clock ticking and a crate of vodka in the boot,” Helgi said. “Now we just get these doped-up fuckwits instead.”
“So that feller should get an award, should he, for keeping alive a grand old Icelandic tradition?” Gunna suggested.
“Bugger that, he should practically be in a museum,” Helgi snorted. “I have to say I regret the passing of the traditional old-school Icelandic pisshead,” he added sadly, while Eiríkur stared at him and Gunna burst out laughing.
“You sound like old Haddi when you say stuff like that. Sounds like you almost mean it.”
“Well, given a choice of dealing with drunks or dopeheads, I know which I’d choose,” Helgi said with finality, swinging his keys on his little finger. “Need a lift, Eiríkur?”
Eiríkur hesitated, seeing Helgi’s Skoda lurking in a corner of the car park.
“Go on,” Gunna urged him. “I had a ride in it once, and it’s not that scary.”
Steini snored tunefully. It wasn’t an all-out rumble, or even the occasional thunderous snort. It was more a musical tenor hum, Gunna reflected, lying awake. It felt odd, even uncomfortable, to have a man in her bed regularly after so long. In the little house with its thin walls they had done their best to be quiet, not knowing if Laufey in the next room was asleep, awake, or blissfully unaware of anything other than what Steini playfully referred to as the stream of “Beatlemusic” coming through her headphones.
Glancing at the clock that she knew was ten minutes fast, she saw that it wouldn’t be long before it would be buzzing angrily. Swinging her legs out of bed and shivering as her feet landed on the cold tiles of the floor, she wrapped herself in a threadbare dressing gown and made for the shower.
The penetrating coffee aroma brought Steini to the kitchen, wrapped in a towel and his eyes puffy with sleep.
“G’day.” He smiled. “Been up long?”
“Long enough to have a shower and make coffee. Sleep well?” He hoisted himself on to a stool and reached for a mug.
“Working overalls today?” he asked, admiring Gunna’s black uniform shirt.
“Yup, more interviews today and uniform makes things a bit more formal, impresses the rabble. And it’s the easy choice.”
“It looks good on you, you know. Same here. When I came out of the Coast Guard it took months to get used to wearing ordinary clothes again,” Steini said, hopping off the stool to open the fridge in search of milk. As he did so, the towel came adrift and left him standing naked with a carton of milk in one hand.
“Speaking of which,” Gunna said with an easy smile, “while I’m quite happy to have a naked man running around my kitchen, I have to get Laufey out of bed. So it might be an idea if you put some clothes on before you give the poor girl the fright of her life.”