“What?” Hallur asked dazedly.
“I’d say it’s corruption, but that’s not my concern right now. I’m more interested in knowing who else the bloke with the shotgun might want to settle up with. Where’s Sindri now?”
“Er … Portugal, I think. That’s where he normally is.”
“How far did all this go? And for how long?” Gunna demanded.
“Look, I don’t think I ought to be speaking to you about this without a lawyer. I don’t want to be in a position of incriminating myself.”
“Don’t be stupid. I’m wondering how many people you lot upset over the years, you and Bjartmar and Sindri between you. Just how many people are there who might hold a grudge against you?”
Hallur sank down in his chair and looked blank.
“There are so many,” he said morosely. “I sort of kept in the background and did what I could to push business their way. Jónas Valur, you know, is an influential man, and quite a few of us owe him favours. Bjartmar and Sindri did the business side of things until they went their separate ways.”
“And when was this?” Gunna asked.
“A few years ago, I suppose. We were at one of the informal gatherings we have occasionally.”
“Who’s that? The Svana Syndicate?”
“Well, yes,” Hallur admitted. “Bjartmar and Sindri were in the process of winding Kleifaberg up. Bjartmar had already set up Landex and Sandex, so he was doing all right. But Sindri took us all by surprise. He said he was getting out. Of course we all thought he was completely mad. The economy was booming at the time. But he said he’d consulted analysts and gave it two years. In the event, he was entirely right.”
“You mean he predicted the crash, sold his assets and emigrated?”
“He still comes back here sometimes. But, yes, he saw something the rest of us missed and put all his cash into property in Portugal. Hotels, golf courses, that sort of thing.”
“And Bjartmar?”
“God, I’ll never forget the two of them arguing that night. They’re both pretty fiery and it practically came to blows. I’m sure Sindri would have hit Bjartmar if his father hadn’t been there,” he reminisced, staring over Gunna’s head at the wall behind her. “Bjartmar hasn’t done quite so well. His Spanish portfolio has been stable, as far as I know, but he’s had problems here. He stretched himself a long way and some of his companies are struggling. Rigel’s just about getting by but Arcturus Holdings is well over its limits. Both of those companies built property that back in 2007 would have sold as soon as it hit the market. But then everything was turned upside down. Rigel Investment built those luxury flats on Lindargata. Some of them sold and some are rented, but there are still too many empty. Arcturus built all those terraces in Gardabær, about a hundred houses altogether, and they’re practically all empty.”
“Bjartmar Arnarson was in financial difficulties?” Gunna asked, reminding herself that this was the district where Long Ommi had been hiding in a brand-new empty house.
Hallur nodded glumly. “I’d say he was in serious danger of losing control of Rigel, possibly in the near future. It’s quite possible that he only held on to ownership because the bank had enough on its plate already and the last thing they wanted was to suddenly own a hundred empty houses all at the same time.”
“Are there creditors over these houses, then?”
“God, yes. Some of the contractors went bankrupt. But Bjartmar was pretty smart in a lot of ways. He owned the company that handled the project under a different tax number, so that operation went bust without directly affecting Rigel, which actually owns the properties.”
“Wheels within wheels? The usual dodges? Doing favours for your cronies?” Gunna said with disdain.
“Business.” Hallur shrugged. “Just business. That’s how it works.”
“Steindór Hjálmarsson. Does that name mean anything to you?” Hallur looked blank. “Don’t think so. Should it?”
“Not necessarily. Tell me what your movements were on the day Svana Geirs died.”
“Are you still on that? God, I’d have thought you’d have caught the bastard by now,” Hallur said.
“A little more co-operation and we might have,” Gunna retorted.
“Is this anything to do with Bjartmar?” he asked warily. “Are these murders linked?”
“That’s what I need to find out. Now, details. Tell me what happened that day, without leaving anything out this time.”
Hallur groaned. “I left here around six thirty, as usual, and went to my parliamentary office. There I went through paperwork, answered emails, all that kind of crap, had a meeting with a couple of colleagues—”
“About what?”
“The oil refinery proposal in the Westfjords. Basically it’s an environment-versus-employment question. So whatever stand we take on it, we’re going to be wrong,” he said bitterly. “Personally I’d like to see the effort going into aquaculture, but I’m only a junior MP and so nobody pays much attention.”
“You can give me the names of these parliamentary colleagues?”
“Certainly. Eyrún Valgeirsdóttir, Pálmi Marteinsson, Fannar Jónsson. There were others, but those are the ones that spring to mind. They’ll vouch for me.”
“And then?”
“The meeting came to an end at around ten thirty and I went out.”
“To meet Svana?”
“I went to Fit Club and was expecting to meet her. She wasn’t there so I did an hour of running and weights, showered and went back to work. Simple as that. I was due to speak at two, as you know.”
“You say you were expecting to see her? Had you arranged to meet?”
“Not specially. But she was normally there at that sort of time.”
“You had something particular to discuss?”
“No.” He shrugged. “I enjoyed her company. Svana was a fun person to be around. Even though she was shallow in many ways, she was a lively personality and an antidote to dry meetings that go on too long.”
“It seems she had an appointment. Any idea who with? Another of the syndicate?”
There was a sour look on his face.
“I have no idea. I hoped to see her. She wasn’t there,” he said with rising impatience.
“You’ve no idea who she was expecting to meet?”
“Not the faintest, officer, and if you don’t mind, we have guests for lunch.”
“I’m sure they’ll leave some for you. When did you last see Bjartmar?”
“Before his trip to the US,” Hallur said with a sour expression on his handsome face.
“And the rest of the syndicate?”
“I’ve seen Bjarki once or twice in the last few weeks. His firm looks after the books for my wife’s media business and we’re old friends.”
“He doesn’t have an alibi.”
“Bjarki? Good grief, he’d never hurt a fly, let alone a person. Svana was so fit and healthy, she could have made mincemeat of him.”
“Bjartmar was abroad. You were in Parliament. Jónas Valur doesn’t have much of an alibi and Bjarki doesn’t have one at all. I’m not assuming that one of the syndicate killed Svana Geirs, but you have to admit that you all make a good starting point. You had a motive in that if she were to reveal the arrangement, your political career would be in trouble.”
“You think so?” Hallur asked with a grim laugh. “If the truth were known about the goings-on between political bedrooms in this country, more than half of us would be out of office tomorrow.”
“Did you meet any of Svana’s other acquaintances?”
“What? Her friends? No. I don’t think she had friends like normal people do. She just had people who were useful to her. I’d sometimes run into her with people at Fit Club, normally the sort of fashionable women she used to associate with, sometimes men, but not often. Once I saw her laughing and joking with a troll of a man at Fit Club, who turned out to be her brother. That was a bit strange, because Svana never seemed to have anything like a family, ever.”