“That was it, he didn’t say. But he put me in the back of his Merc and off we went.”

  “Into the night?”

  “Yeah. It was starting to get light by then and we went right out of town. I don’t like going past Mosfellsbær, me. But we ended up at this summer house and he left me there with Selma to look after me, said he’d be back in the morning and that there was a good wedge of cash in it for me.”

  “This was Eygló Grímsdóttir’s place in Skorradalur, right?”

  “Yeah. Nice place. I think old Jónas had a thing going with Eygló at the time.”

  “You already knew Eygló by then?”

  “Well, sort of. Selma and me, we’d been sort of, y’know, off and on, so I knew Eygló.”

  They turned at the corner of the field and came back at a leisurely pace, this time into the wind, which stung Gunna’s cheeks. Ommi huddled deeper into his fleece.

  “So, what happened?”

  “Well, I was left there with little Selma to keep me company, and the next afternoon Jónas turned up again with Sindri in tow, and Eygló coming up behind in her BMW with Baddó.”

  “Bjartmar?”

  “Yeah. Well Selma was kicked upstairs and the three of them put their cards on the table.”

  “Three of them?”

  “Yeah. Eygló went off with Selma, I suppose.”

  “All right. Go on.”

  Ommi frowned.

  “Jónas said they had a problem. A crime had been committed that they couldn’t sweep under the carpet. He said they needed someone to take the rap for it and there would be a wage in it, plus a bonus at the ind of the stretch. Would I be interested? Well I thought they probably wanted someone to do a year or a few months or something. So I said yeah, I could do some time for the right price.”

  “But it was more than a few months?”

  “Hell, yeah,” Ommi said. “I could see it was Sindri. He was as nervous as hell, fiddling with his keys, biting his nails, all sorts. Your lot would’ve chewed him up for breakfast,” he said with a slim smile. “Anyway, it took me by surprise when they said it would be a murder charge, and I said hey, that’s a bit heavier than what I’d had in mind.”

  Ommi kicked a stone and sent it skittering towards the fence. “But that Jónas, he’s a sly bastard. He said I’d already said yes, so now we just needed to agree a price.”

  “And I take it you did?”

  “Yup. Shit, yeah. Those three … Life wouldn’t have been worth living if I’d turned them down.”

  “How much?”

  “A couple of mill a year, plus a five mill bonus when I got out, and he swore blind it wouldn’t be more than ten years, out in six or seven, tops.”

  “And you agreed to that?”

  “Pushed him up to two and a half a year, plus eight, and we shook on it.”

  “A done deal? What then?”

  “They went back to the city; said I should stay put and wait there quietly. They left a case of vodka and a couple of beers, told me to enjoy the TV until I got a visit. So me and Selma, we made ourselves comfy. A week later you lot came calling and I just put my hands up and that was that.”

  Gunna nodded to herself. Very little that Ommi had said had taken her by surprise, except that he had been so open after such a long silence. They turned again at the top of the yard and she saw that he was starting to feel the chill.

  “Want to go back inside?”

  “Not yet.”

  “So you got a decent nest egg put away somewhere for you as long as you kept quiet and did the time. What went wrong?”

  Ommi grimaced. “I’ll tell you what. I was starting to feel all right in there. Stopped smoking, worked out every day. Put an inch on my biceps. Feeling good. Then I began to hear whispers. Sindri moved abroad. OK, fair enough. Then I hear Bjartmar’s in trouble. He’d got right out of the speed and clubbing business, and went respectable, stopped being there when I called. That’s what went wrong. I couldn’t have the cash going into an account with my name on it, so I wanted it in Selma’s name. But Bjartmar said he’d invest it for me, get a good return and I’d have a big old whack waiting when I got out.”

  “And did he?”

  “Yeah. Put it all into the stock exchange here and there, a load into shares in banks, and lost the fucking lot when the banks went tits up.”

  “That’s when you decided to walk out?”

  “Yeah. I couldn’t get through to Bjartmar or Jónas. Couldn’t find Skari’s number, like he’d dropped off the surface of the earth. Selma asked a few questions for me, but her mum and Jónas had fallen out by then. I wasn’t getting any answers, so I reckoned I’d go and ask questions myself. Thought if it came to it, I’d just talk to you lot and tell you everything.”

  Ommi looked directly at Gunna for the first time since they had started walking. “I thought they’d stitched me up.”

  “Looks like they had.”

  “Maybe. I couldn’t get to Jónas or Bjartmar. Calls stopped at their secretaries, and their offices are like this place,” he said bitterly, waving a hand at the high wire all around them as Gunna recalled the security cameras outside both Bjartmar and Jónas’s offices.

  “The fire at Bjartmar’s home, was that you?”

  “Addi did that. A bit of a warning.”

  “And Svana? Why did you go to her?”

  “To get to Bjartmar. I’d heard she was still shagging him sometimes. So I turned up at the gym one morning and waited until she came out. When she got in the car, I jumped in the passenger side and we went back to her place for a bit of a private talk.”

  “When was this? Which day?”

  “Morning. Don’t know what day.”

  “But she couldn’t help you?”

  “She said that she knew Bjartmar was away and she’d talk to him when he came back.”

  “That was true enough,” Gunna said. “Bjartmar really was abroad.”

  “Was it? I couldn’t be sure. Svana was sweet, but she was never that bright.”

  “And Daft Diddi? That was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Look, I’m not proud of that, understand? I was getting desperate, out of cash. Eygló helped out with a few shekels and found us that place to crash in, but she’s short of cash herself after she put hers into property that won’t sell.”

  At the bottom of the yard, Gunna felt her phone begin to vibrate in her pocket but ignored it. As they turned, she could see Eiríkur and the warder following them, huddled miserably deep into their coats.

  “So Svana was fine when you left her?”

  “Yeah. Right as rain. She’d had a lot done since I saw her last, new this, new that, looked like a million dollars. I swear it, I didn’t touch her, honestly. But if you bring the bastard who did it in here, I’ll make him wish he’d never been born.”

  Gunna wanted to believe him, and for once Ommi’s voice had an earnest quality that was startlingly fresh.

  “Fair enough. But Skari? What happened there?”

  “Jesus. Found out why I couldn’t get hold of him. The twat had gone and moved back to Crapsville with his fat girl,” Ommi said with a shake of the head. “Me and Addi went out there to look for him, and when we did find him in Keflavík, it wasn’t the way it should have been. He just went apeshit. Said he was straight now and wanted to keep it that way.”

  “So Jónas had squared all the witnesses? Skari and Svana?”

  “Yeah, and the rest of them.”

  “Understood. What was the upshot with Óskar? How come he’s in such a bad way?”

  “He went fucking wild when I told him he’d had his payout from old Jónas for saying his piece in court that put me away, but I’d been left out in the cold. He laid right into me and I gave it all back, plus a bit more.” Ommi sighed. “I’m a lot stronger than when I was put away. I shouldn’t have done it, but fuck it. He wanted a ruck and he got a proper one.”

  “And this was in Keflavík?”

  “Yeah. Near where he works. Shit, I’ve told you enough, and it’s cold out here.”

  WITH OMMI TAKEN away and back in his cell, Gunna remembered to check her phone for missed calls. Instead of the one that she had expected, there were fifteen, and she was scrolling through the numbers quickly, wondering which one to return first, when the phone started to buzz in her hand.

  “Gunnhildur,” she barked.

  “Hæ, Mum. When are you going to be home?” asked Laufey to Gunna’s relief.

  “Oh, am I glad to hear you,” she said.

  “Why’s that?” Laufey asked with suspicion.

  “Nothing, sweetheart.” Gunna laughed. “I was just expecting a call I don’t really want to take. That’s all.”

  “All right, Mum. But when will you be back?”

  “I don’t know. What time is it now?”

  “Two.”

  “Should be around six, seven-ish. Why, do you need me for something?”

  “No, not really,” Laufey said, and there was a pause that set Gunna’s alarms ringing.

  “What’s up?”

  “It’s not me, Mum. It’s all right. It’s Sigrún. She was asking about you and why she hasn’t seen you for a few days.”

  “I know, sweetheart. But you and Steini haven’t seen much of me for a while either, have you? Things are just busy at work as usual, and these days when there’s overtime on offer, I have to take it.”

  “I don’t think Sigrún’s well, Mum.”

  Gunna looked up to see Eiríkur gazing at her enquiringly.

  “OK, sweetheart. I’ll be back as early as I can and I’ll make a point of going to see her this evening. D’you maybe want to ask her and Jens to come and eat with us tonight?”

  She could hear Laufey’s breathing.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m walking down the hill to Sigrún’s place now. I’ll tell her, OK?”

  “You do that, sweetheart. See you this evening.”

  She ended the call and looked at the screen to see a text message in the inbox. She pressed the button to display it.

  Come and find me at H-gata before 1700. IL, she read.

  That’s going to be my bollocking for losing my temper with Sævaldur, she thought, and scrolled through the numbers of the missed calls again. Ten were from withheld numbers, three from Laufey and two from numbers she didn’t recognize.

  “Eiríkur, sorry about that. Time to go.”

  “You know Ívar Laxdal called you a couple of times and couldn’t get through. Someone must have told him we were out together and he called me to ask where we were.”

  “And you told him that we were enjoying a relaxing mud bath in the Blue Lagoon, I suppose?”

  “Well, no. I told him we’re at Litla-Hraun interviewing Ómar Magnússon,” he said innocently, and then broke into a grin.

  Gunna started the Range Rover and reversed out of the parking space before swinging round and heading for the main road.

  “You know, Eiríkur, Ívar Laxdal is one of nature’s anomalies. There’s a lot to be admired in a man like that, but I don’t believe he’s overendowed in the humor department, at least not where work’s concerned.”

  “Maybe, chief,” Eiríkur agreed. “What did you get out of Long Ommi?”

  “Everything I expected,” Gunna said grimly. “Everything and more.”

  On the way back to Reykjavík they stopped at a petrol station, and Eiríkur went inside while Gunna pumped diesel. He returned with cans of malt, a couple of sandwiches and a grim look on his face just as Gunna swiped her card through the pump’s reader.

  “All right?”

  Eiríkur simply held out a newspaper so that she could see the front page of that morning’s Dagurinn.

  “Shit,” she swore. “Jump in and I’ll move off the pumps.”

  She gunned the engine angrily and had the newspaper out of Eiríkur’s hands before the car had come to a halt on the far side of the forecourt. Högni Sigurgeirsson’s mournful face filled the front page in unflattering close-up.

  “‘Högni Sigurgeirsson, 26, is devastated by the loss of his elder sister, well-known TV personality and fitness coach Svana Geirs, who was cruelly murdered two weeks ago in her downtown apartment,’” Gunna read out.

  “‘Nothing has happened at all. There has been no progress by the police and they’ve hardly talked to us, let alone kept us up to date with what’s been going on,’ says a heartbroken Högni Sigurgeirsson, who has taken extended leave from work to stay at home and comfort his grieving mother,” she continued. “The scheming bastard! It’s not as if he’s been even remotely helpful either. Who wrote this shit?” she demanded, looking at the double-page article for a byline and reaching for her phone.

  She scrolled, punched the call button and listened to the phone ring until finally it clicked into life.

  “Skúli? This is the law. Just seen your front page.”

  “Me too. Nothing to do with me,” he said, and coughed. “So who wrote this crap?”

  Skúli coughed again. “A freelance, I’d guess. I’ll ask and give you a buzz back.”

  Gunna’s anger receded as she understood that the story wasn’t one of Skúli’s.

  “All right, don’t worry too much about it, but I’d like to know where it came from. It looks like Högni is telling the press stuff that he isn’t telling us, but still moaning because we haven’t caught the bastard who bumped Svana off.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll email you when I’ve heard anything,” Skúli said, and rang off as he dissolved into yet more spluttering.

  “And?” Eiríkur asked.

  “Don’t know. At least it wasn’t my tame journalist who wrote that shit. But it’s definitely time I had another talk with Högni.”

  EIRÍKUR DISAPPEARED UPSTAIRS, anxious to check his emails, while Gunna wondered where Ívar Laxdal might be found and whether or not he actually had an office of his own. The man appeared to come and go at will, often turning up where his presence was not necessarily unwelcome, but was certainly uncomfortable.

  “A result, Gunnhildur,” he rumbled behind her, and she turned to see him striding towards her with his arms full of ring binders.

  “On what?” she asked, baffled for the moment.

  “The Bjartmar Arnarson killing, of course. The man’s in custody and Sævaldur’s team are interviewing him now. I’m going upstairs. Talk to me on the way,” he suggested in a tone that made it an order. “How did you get on at Litla-Hraun? Helgi told me you were following up on the Ómar Magnússon business. Progress?”

  “Absolutely,” Gunna puffed, stretching to keep up with him on the stairs and wondering how he managed to shift himself so quickly without appearing to move any faster than anyone else.

  “And?” he demanded, marching along the corridor and swinging into one of the lawyers’ offices.

  “Confirmed a lot of what I’d suspected, plus some new leads. Ómar didn’t touch Steindór Hjálmarsson. He was being paid pretty handsomely to do the time for someone else.”

  “How much, as a matter of interest?”

  “Thirty million.”

  “Not a lot, I’d have said.”

  “Ah, but ten years ago, thirty million was twice as much as it’s worth now.”

  “I’ll grant you that. But it’s still ten years in a concrete box.” Ívar Laxdal put the binders down on a desk in the corner and made for the door. “Coffee?” he asked, striding down the corridor towards the canteen with Gunna again hurrying behind him.

  Hell. I’m thirty-seven years old. Why does this blasted man make me feel like I’m ten? she wondered uncomfortably as Ívar Laxdal poured black liquid into two mugs in the deserted canteen.

  “A good place at this time of day, Gunnhildur, because there’s nobody about,” he said, sitting at a table in the corner and motioning for her to join him. “Tomorrow, I want to see you at nine for a disciplinary reprimand.”

  His black eyes bored into hers from under his heavy brows.

  “Is this because I was stupid enough to give Sævaldur a piece of my mind this morning?”

  Ívar Laxdal nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” Gunna said heavily. “The bloody man winds me up so much, and after what he said about Tinna when she’d taken the gun off the nutcase in the bank, I’m afraid I just saw red for thirty seconds.”

  “I know. Sævaldur has some difficulties adjusting to the twenty-first century. I know he makes an effort, but that’s not always enough. But I’d appreciate it if you would cut him a little slack. Completely between ourselves, he’s an excellent officer who should never have left uniform.”

  “In that case, completely between ourselves, is he likely to be taking over Örlygur Sveinsson’s duties?”

  “In confidence, Gunnhildur, the likelihood is minimal. But what’s your next step on the Svana Geirs case? Where are you now? I take it you’ve seen the papers?”

  Gunna pursed her lips and frowned. “I have. I’m no closer to Svana’s killer than I was a week ago. If anything, I’m further away, as Ómar Magnússon was a prime suspect and now he isn’t.”

  “How so?”

  “I know more or less precisely when Svana was murdered, but Ommi doesn’t. I know, but he doesn’t, that he has an alibi. Though that might not be much of an alibi unless the chap he was administering a pretty brutal beating to at just that time agrees to identify him as his assailant.”

  Ívar Laxdal supported his chin in one hand and Gunna could hear his stubby fingers rasping the bristles.

  “So who’s your suspect for the murder of Steindór Hjálmarsson?” he asked suddenly.

  “Sindri Valsson, Jónas Valur Hjaltason’s boy. He lives in Portugal now, as far as I’m aware. He and his father have some business interests there. What’s the procedure on this? Can we ask the Portuguese police to sling him on to a flight to Iceland for us?”

  “Ah, you’ll be interested to hear that there are already enquiries being made in that direction. The financial and computer crime division have been watching the gentleman for a while now, so you’d better liaise with them and see if you can pool some resources. Who knows, you might get a trip to Portugal out of it,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “But, Svana Geirs. We need some progress there. The papers are on to this and we can do without the bad publicity, or that’s the word from above that’s filtering downwards.”