“I wanted to make them suffer too. I’m damn sure that bloke who threatened to strangle me was sent by Bjartmar or Jónas Valur, or that bastard of a son of his.”
“And you needed the cash, I suppose?”
“Shit, yes, all right. I bought a flat two years ago, not long before the crash. The payments on it have gone through the roof and I thought I’d be out on the street otherwise. The place has been for sale for the best part of a year and it’s only even been viewed twice.”
“So your flat is safe now?”
“For the moment.”
“Good. Interview suspended, fourteen twenty-five,” Gunna intoned, stopping the recording. “Maybe you’ll be able to rent it out while you’re in prison. We’ll take a break now.”
At the mention of prison, Gulli Ólafs’ eyes glazed over.
“I HEAR HÖGNI’S been picked up,” Eiríkur said, sitting down at his desk and running his hands through his hair to dislodge some more of the gravel collected during his tussle with Gulli Ólafs.
“Do we have room for him?” Gunna asked, shaking painkillers from a jar and washing them down with lukewarm coffee.
“Yup. There’s a cell upstairs reserved for him. Helgi’s back,” he added. “Has Helena Rós been arrested?”
“Not yet. But she has plenty of questions to answer.”
The door swung silently open and Ívar Laxdal stepped inside. “Progress, Gunnhildur?” The trace of a smile on his normally deadpan face told them both that he was already aware of what had happened.
“Oh yes. Högni Sigurgeirsson is on his way and Helena Rós is sitting in an interview room waiting for us.”
“Hallur Hallbjörnsson’s wife?”
“That’s her.”
“Her father’s a well-known figure, you know.”
“And he’s a lawyer.”
“What progress with the hack?”
“Singing like a bird. Can we get some extra bodies to search his flat and his car? I could do with someone to go to his office as well and bring his computer back here for Albert to have a look through.”
“I can get that done,” Ívar Laxdal said.
“What we have at the moment is Helena Rós and Gulli Ólafs helping us with enquiries. It’s crystal clear that between them they were blackmailing three of the four members of Svana’s Syndicate, but I have no idea yet how they’re linked to the deaths of Svana or Jónas Valur, or the attacks on me or Hallur,” Gunna said, pausing for breath as Ívar Laxdal’s eyes widened. “On the other hand, we have Högni Sigurgeirsson, who is a seriously fucked-up young man and has plenty of questions to answer about Hallur’s injuries. It seems that Gulli and Helena Rós had already started their little campaign some time before Svana’s murder, and it was aimed mainly at wrecking Hallur’s marriage, as well as digging Gulli Ólafs out of his financial difficulties, after which he was going to play house with the man’s wife. It’s something I should have twigged earlier and followed up.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Gunnhildur. You’ve been busy.”
“Albert’s work has been outstanding,” she continued. “There was a dog hair in one envelope at Hallur’s parliamentary office that matches Helena Rós’ poodle. Now Gulli Ólafs and Helena Rós Pálsdóttir are in separate interview rooms desperately blaming each other. But Gulli Ólafs wasn’t the one who smacked Hallur and tried to poison him, or the one who bashed Jónas Valur’s head in, although he was probably the person Jónas Valur was expecting to see. Both Gulli Ólafs and Helena Rós were elsewhere at the time, and that’s already been confirmed. The house-to-house enquiries and CCTV have turned up sightings of a grey Opel that fits, so I have our pizza delivery boy pegged for that one. But we’ll see.”
“If you think Högni may be responsible for the attack on you and Jónas Valur, then that interrogation ought to be handled by someone else,” Ívar Laxdal decided.
“Not Sævaldur, surely? Not after all the work we’ve done.”
“Sævaldur’s busy elsewhere. Helgi can do it.”
GUNNA SAT QUIETLY next to Eiríkur in the interview room.
“Interview with Helena Rós Pálsdóttir, officers Eiríkur Thór Jónsson and Gunnhildur Gísladóttir present,” Eiríkur recited for the benefit of the recording. “Helena Rós, can you tell us where you were on the day your husband was attacked at your home?”
“At a fundraising event.”
“Fundraising for what?”
“For the National Theatre, at Hotel Borg.”
“And there were people there who will confirm your attendance?”
“Of course.”
“Have you any idea who might be responsible for the attack on your husband?”
Helena Rós folded her arms and glared, head back. “You’ve already asked me all these questions.”
“How long have you been in a relationship with Gunnlaugur Ólafsson?”
“Who says we’re in a relationship?”
“I’m asking,” Eiríkur said. “Are you saying there isn’t a relationship between you?”
“All right. About a year.”
“How long have you known Gunnlaugur?”
“Since we were at college. Twenty years, something like that.”
“And how did you become aware of your husband’s arrangement with Svana Geirs?”
“Do I really have to answer these questions? This is very personal.”
“But it’s also a murder inquiry.”
“Surely you don’t suspect me of murdering that woman?”
“Would you please answer the question?”
Helena Rós fidgeted with the ends of her scarf. “I knew there was something going on. Hallur has always been easily led astray, especially by pretty women, but since the children were born he’s kept his dick in his trousers, or so I thought. This was different. To answer your question, it was simple. I checked the SMS messages on his phone while he was in the bath. He must have realized, because after a while he started taking his phone with him to the bathroom.”
“Was this before or after your relationship with Gunnlaugur began?”
“Before. Gulli confirmed it and told me what the arrangement was.”
“Which was what?”
“You know perfectly well,” Helena Rós said in a voice that dripped scorn.
“I’d prefer to hear it from you.”
“Hallur and three other dirty old men were paying to take turns on that plastic Barbie doll. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“That will do nicely, thank you,” Eiríkur said politely. “You know Jónas Valur Hjaltason?”
“Of course. He sits on a couple of committees with my husband.”
“He’s dead.”
“A heart attack, I suppose?”
“You don’t seem surprised,” Eiríkur said with a frown.
“He was overweight and unhealthy.”
“He was murdered. It’s not public knowledge yet. Where were you on Friday evening?”
“At home, I think. Yes, I’m sure of it, I was at home.”
“Anyone who could corroborate that?”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “Gulli. He stayed the night and left early in the morning.”
“What time did he arrive?”
“Eight-ish. Something like that.”
Eiríkur shot a glance at Gunna. “The threats and demands posted to your husband. Who had this bright idea?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Gunna opened the file on the desk and passed two sheets of paper across. Helena Rós ignored them.
“There are more,” Eiríkur said. “Some of these were retrieved from the bin in your husband’s office at your home. A couple more are from his parliamentary office.”
“So who was blackmailing my husband?”
“That’s what we’d all like to know, and I have to consider your involvement in it.”
“This is absolutely ridiculous! How dare you!” Helena Rós lifted herself to her feet and towered over Eiríkur.