He hauled the mower out of the garage, filled the tank and started the engine. He started by the garage and took it in strips, back and forth. The smell that rose from the ground wasn’t just the usual aroma of freshly mown grass, it was blended with the smell of rotting brown leaves that had collected on the lawn. Autumn was certainly here.

  The mower had a built-in drive so it wasn’t heavy work and he barely needed to push. The grass collected in the hopper that he had to empty in the middle of each traverse. It was as he was replacing the freshly emptied hopper that he noticed the supplier’s name: Garðvís ehf. He stared at it, taken by surprise by the coincidence, and cursing as his thoughts, which needed a little rest, were instantly dragged back to the case. It had been partly solved, as Sigurlaug had explained how she had helped Guðrún stage her own abduction, but the murder was still unexplained. Guðrún clearly hadn’t murdered herself. He was hauled from these reflections by Lady Gúgúlú, who appeared at the door of her garage flat.

  ‘Hæ darling. You’re working hard.’

  Daníel left the mower where it was and went over to her.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

  She waved a dramatic hand in the air.

  ‘Fine. Just one eye and the ego that are complaining. Everything else works just fine.’

  ‘Pleased to hear it,’ Daníel said, and was about to say something about counselling and therapy for victims of violence when the doorbell of his flat chimed.

  ‘Oo-la-la, an evening visitor,’ Lady Gúgúlú said. ‘Could it be the delightful Áróra?’

  Daníel snorted.

  ‘You reckon you can see through the hills like your invisible friends in the rocks?’ he said, and heard her laughter follow him as he jumped onto the decking and disappeared through the French doors into his apartment.

  ‘Am I disturbing you?’ Áróra asked.

  He shook his head.

  ‘No, not at all. Come in,’ he said, showing her inside. He half expected her to give him a kiss, or at least touch him, but she went straight into the living room and sat down. ‘It’s been a hell of a day,’ he said, to have something to say, and sat down next to her. ‘Thank you for your help.’

  ‘Any news?’

  ‘The poker was found in the heather not far from the summer house. There are blood and fingerprints on it that are being examined.’

  ‘And the other side of it? Flosi’s finances?’

  ‘Well, nothing really. The last I heard from the computer-crime division was a confirmation of what you saw right away this morning – a typical money-laundering operation.’

  ‘And are you going to do anything about this?’ Áróra asked, and Daníel sat up straighter, suddenly aware that he had a duty as a police officer to uphold. Following the investigation into her sister’s disappearance, he suspected that her opinion of the Icelandic police was not high.

  ‘It’s a job for the Financial Supervisory Authority, or the Directorate of Tax Investigation. I’ll take advice on where it’s best to take this, but I know that whichever of them investigates, they would welcome more information, as what we have from Leonid’s computer is just a part of the puzzle.’

  Áróra nodded knowingly, and Daníel saw immediately that she knew what he meant.

  TUESDAY

  81

  His thoughts on the way to work were all of Áróra, and her powerful body, which accepted him so energetically he could wrap all of himself around her without fear of hurting or crushing her, or unintentionally using a strength greater than hers. Despite his morning shower, he felt that there was still an aroma of her on his skin. A series of daydream vignettes passed through his mind, of the two of them walking together, munching shared popcorn at the cinema, cooking dinner together before curling up in each other’s arms in front of the TV. Just for once, as he arrived at the station he needed to put his thoughts in order, to focus his mind on the case he was working on – Flosi’s case.

  Helena was waiting with everything ready for him. She even had a mug of coffee for him, and he wondered how early she had turned up for work. He took the folder and the coffee from her, and they clinked mugs, as if they were toasting each other, and Helena asked for coffee to be taken to Flosi and his lawyer while they waited in the interview room.

  ‘How are we going to tackle this?’ she asked.

  Daníel was wondering exactly that. The repeated questioning the day before had yielded nothing. Something more would be needed to force Flosi’s hand.

  ‘I’ll ratchet up the pressure a little,’ Daníel said, and they again clinked mugs before making their way to the interview room.

  They took their seats, Helena read out the names and formalities for the recording and then Daníel looked silently at Flosi for a long time.

  ‘Well, Flosi,’ he said gently. ‘Is there anything you’d like to tell us before we start?’

  A quick smile flashed across Flosi’s downcast face, and he glanced at the lawyer, who shook his head.

  ‘Let’s leave out the fishing,’ the lawyer said. Daníel knew him. This was an older man with a glistening bald head. Daniel had encountered him under similar circumstances before, but couldn’t put his finger on exactly when. ‘Let’s see what you have.’

  ‘Fine,’ Daníel said, opening the folder and taking out the photograph of the Luminol patch in the back of the van.

  ‘This is what’s left of a pool of blood that was found in the back of the new Garðvís van that you were using for most of Saturday.’ Flosi shrugged, so Daníel continued. ‘We have a witness who confirms that you took this vehicle from Garðvís on Saturday morning, leaving your own car there, returning the van late in the afternoon and then going home in your own car.’ Daníel fell silent and watched Flosi, who also said nothing. ‘What did you need the company van for?’

  ‘I don’t remember. Maybe I needed to go to the tip or something, and needed a bigger car.’

  Daníel saw the lawyer jab Flosi smartly with his elbow. That was quite right of him. There was nothing to be gained by lying. That would lead to a trap it could be difficult to escape later.

  ‘Our forensics team has identified the same tyre pattern as the van at both the summer house and in the mud at Laxaslóð, where we believe Guðrún was thrown into the sea,’ Helena said and slid a photograph of the tyre pattern across to the lawyer.

  Daníel saw that her words hit Flosi hard. He closed his eyes for a moment, quickly shaking his head as if he were trying to erase an image from his mind.

  ‘I did Guðrún no harm,’ he whispered.

  ‘Well, considering you’re an innocent man and did Guðrún no harm, we can turn to other possibilities,’ Daníel said, and took out a statement detailing Garðvís’s overseas transactions, placing it in front of Flosi. ‘We took a look at the international business your employee, Leonid Kuznetsov, has been conducting.’

  Flosi stiffened in his seat, cleared his throat, and for a second his eyes flashed this way and that, as if he was seeking inspiration from every corner of the room.

  ‘Why on earth are you looking into the company’s finances? How does this have any bearing at all on Guðrún’s death?’ the lawyer asked, reaching to pull the statement closer so he could examine it. But Flosi clapped a hand firmly on the sheet of paper, snatched it away and pushed it back across the table to Daníel.

  ‘We believe there could be a link,’ Daníel said. ‘If you’re laundering money for the Russian mafia, then there could certainly be a connection.’

  The lawyer scowled and began to mutter something, but Daníel didn’t hear what he said, because Flosi hammered the table with his fist.

  ‘Enough,’ he snapped. ‘No more bullshit. I give up. I confess. I murdered Guðrún.’

  82

  Áróra didn’t need to introduce herself as she arrived for a meeting with the heads of the Financial Supervisory Authority and the Directorate of Tax Investigation at its stylish offices on Borgartún. If they hadn’t known who she was before, it was clear that they had now done their homework well and knew what she wanted before the meeting began.

  ‘Of course we need to seek special authorisation to purchase information from you,’ the head of the Directorate of Tax Investigation said.

  Áróra nodded in agreement.

  ‘Of course. Twenty million krónur is a lot of money. But you would undoubtedly be able to secure significantly higher amounts, plus there would be tax revenue that could be levied on undeclared earnings.’

  She knew that she would have to add a little conviction to bring this off, as authorities were often reluctant to embark on investigations that crossed many borders. This was work that demanded an understanding of numerous rules and regulations, as well as co-operation with institutions in other countries, all of which could become long, complex processes. It was in the shadow of all this that international criminal organisations were able to operate.

  Áróra stood up, walked around the table with her laptop in her hands, placed it between the two directors and pulled up a chair so that they had to move apart to make space for her. Then she began opening files. First was the pdf document concerning her overview of Flosi’s account. Michael would be angry that she had leaked this, but on the other hand, the last thing he wanted was to be caught up in the Russian mafia’s business dealings.

  ‘This is Flosi’s offshore account,’ she said. ‘He’s used it to collect commissions on sales that are part of his legitimate business over the last thirty years. There was a healthy amount of money on there, over two million euros. But around three years ago small amounts began to collect in this account, payments from small companies in the UK and around the Nordic region. I counted 193 companies that pay into Flosi’s account several times a month.’

  The head of the Directorate of Tax Investigation leaned closer and peered at the screen, while the head of the Financial Supervisory Authority leaned back in his chair and nodded. Áróra scrolled further down the document and pointed to a couple of lines that she had highlighted in yellow.

  ‘Then there are the withdrawals. Each month there are large payments that go to three accounts. There’s INExport inc. in the States, and there are Tækjakistan ehf and Garðvís ehf, which are registered Icelandic companies. I have examined one of these three, Tækjakistan; it’s a front company that does nothing but maintain a pretend office. Money flows through this from the offshore account and to the legitimate activities of Flosi’s family company, Garðvís.’

  Áróra opened the data on Tækjakistan’s accounts that she had obtained using her Trojan horse, and explained what she had discovered.

  ‘The company’s only revenue is payments from Flosi’s offshore account and its outgoings, apart from the salary paid to the thug who spends all day playing computer games, are sky-high rental payments to the building’s owner, which is Leonid Kuznetsov, a Russian national with an Icelandic residence permit, and…’ Áróra scrolled further down through the document ‘…paying the substantial invoices it receives from Garðvís, which is also where this Leonid Kuznetsov works.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said the head of the Financial Supervisory Authority, and the head of the Directorate of Tax Investigation nodded his agreement.

  ‘These are significant amounts,’ Áróra said, and she could almost sense them mentally calculating how much would accrue to Revenue and Customs if they were to investigate and work their way through the case. Áróra closed the document and opened another in which she had collected the screenshots that she had sneaked from Leonid’s computer at the police station.

  ‘These pictures show payments from Garðvís to Babylon Gardens in the UK. According to a web search, this company is a major investor in property and companies in Moscow,’ Áróra said. ‘So all this money that’s most likely generated by illegal activities in the UK and the Nordic countries, is paid into an offshore account, goes from there to Iceland and Britain, and ends up in the legitimate Russian economy.’

  ‘These are just screenshots,’ the head of the Directorate of Tax Investigation said, pointing at the screen.

  ‘That’s right,’ Áróra said. ‘But that’s all I have from this end of the scam. But Leonid Kuznetsov’s computer is currently being held by CID, so if you can get access to it using a court order, then you have the whole process in your hands – an unbroken chain forming a massive money laundering operation. And the data I’ve shown you is yours for twenty million krónur.’

  Áróra closed her laptop and stood up.

  ‘But you need to make a quick decision, as my other option is to take this to the TV, as Kveikur would snap this up for a documentary. But I would prefer you to take this on and investigate with the police, as my concern is that this Leonid and the Russian mafia have their hooks into Flosi, and that he’s their bookkeeper, possibly under duress.’

  83

  ‘It doesn’t add up,’ Daníel said, leaning against the wall in the corridor outside the interview room.

  Helena agreed with him, but knew she was expected to put forward suggestions for alternative scenarios.

  ‘Could he have suffered some sort of blackout?’ she said. ‘So that he could have killed her but has no memory of how?’

  Daníel mulled it over for a moment. He was the unlikeliest person to fall victim to tunnel vision, but sometimes it was as if he went to the opposite extreme and was unable to accept the most plausible option.

  ‘We know he used the van on Saturday,’ Helena continued. ‘That’s confirmed by witnesses. There are matching tyre tracks both by the summer house where Guðrún was murdered and by the rocks where she was dropped in the sea. Then there’s everything that supports motive – the lover, the baby on the way and all that.’

  ‘There’s something about how he immediately changed tack when I mentioned the Russian mafia that’s suspicious,’ Daníel said. ‘That angle clearly hurts.’

  ‘If he’s genuinely laundering money, then that would be uncomfortable, quite apart from Guðrún’s death,’ Helena said.

  She could see that he was deep in thought. Then he looked into her eyes.

  ‘I find it very difficult to accept that he murdered her, although I admit that I’m maybe a little too close to him after spending a week in his company to be able to see things with the right clarity.’

  ‘OK,’ Helena said. ‘Let’s suppose he’s shielding someone. Is that someone he fears, such as the Russian mafia, or someone he’s fond of?’

  Daníel nodded and his lower lip protruded as he thought.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Let’s take things down that route.’

  He opened the interview room door and Helena followed him inside. The air-conditioning was working at full blast and the room wasn’t hot, but she could sense the tension in the air. When they had started that morning, Flosi had come across as tired and downtrodden, but now he seemed agitated. She could feel that they were getting close to something.

  ‘Guðrún’s death is in no way connected to my business,’ Flosi said as soon as they entered the room. ‘I don’t care to have my entirely blameless staff mixed up in all this. I am responsible for her death.’

  ‘What puzzles us is that you can’t give us satisfactory answers to various aspects of all this,’ Daníel said. ‘We know about the journey that took you east of the mountain, and that you wrapped her up in the carpet, put the body in the van and dropped her in the water not far from Laxaslóð, to the west of Thorlákshöfn.’

  ‘When exactly did you deposit her body in the sea?’ Helena asked.

  ‘During the day sometime. I had other things on my mind than checking the time.’

  ‘Around midday, afternoon, or when?’ Helena asked, in no mood to let him get away with such an easy answer.

  ‘Before midday. Probably not long before midday.’

  ‘The evidence supports all this,’ Daníel said. ‘You took an unmarked company van from Garðvís and drove eastwards out of town on Saturday morning. We have witnesses and CCTV data, and tracking your phone also confirms this.’

  ‘How exactly did her death occur?’ Helena asked. ‘What led up to it and what circumstances led to you become responsible for her death?’

  ‘It’s all very hazy,’ Flosi said quickly. ‘We argued and it got very heated. I pushed her without meaning to, and she fell and cracked her head on something.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘I don’t recall. The corner of the table, or something. There was blood everywhere.’

  ‘Try to remember, Flosi,’ Daníel said gently. ‘This is a very important aspect.’

  Flosi sat in silence, and then shrugged.

  ‘Like I said, it’s all hazy.’

  Helena cleared her throat so that both Flosi and the lawyer looked at her expectantly, but she didn’t speak right away, pausing before opening her mouth.

  ‘According to the pathology report, she didn’t fall against something,’ she said.

  This seemed to grab Flosi’s attention.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘The pathologist’s opinion is that she was repeatedly clubbed around the head with a heavy implement.’

  Flosi looked down and said nothing, and Helena glanced quickly at Daníel. They had both seen it. Flosi was devastated and at a loss.

  ‘This could not have been accidental. She received numerous blows to the head so that her skull was fractured, with the result that there was damage to the brain, according to the pathologist’s initial examination.’ Daníel closed the folder he was holding. ‘The Selfoss police found the murder weapon in the heather some distance from the summer house. It is bloodstained, but the handle had been wiped so there are no usable fingerprints on it.’