‘And? What? The lad was identified quite quickly and we’re making progress. At the moment it’s all about finding out how he got there from a bar in Reykjavík, even though Sævaldur reckons he has a suspect.’
‘Yes, of course. Precisely. You don’t agree with him?’
‘Nope. Gústi the Gob may be a nasty piece of work, but he’s not going to kill someone for a few credit cards. Why, what’s your problem?’
‘Ágúst Ásgeirsson has been bailed. No murder charge has been made, only theft and fraud.’
‘Aha. I told you he wouldn’t get it to stick.’
Vilhjálmur sighed. ‘I don’t want you to allocate too many resources to this case. I have asked Reykjavík to leave Sævaldur in overall charge of the case and to liaise with you as and when.’
Gunna stopped her jaw from dropping. ‘Are you telling me to drop this?’
‘This isn’t a murder inquiry. The man drowned while drunk.’
‘He was pushed.’
Vilhjálmur continued as if Gunna had said nothing. ‘I’m instructing you not to put any effort into this. The city force will follow it up. You’re going to have enough to do with the InterAlu work going on in your area.’
‘So Reykjavík are going to be looking after this?’
‘Yes. That’s it.’
The phone clicked as the connection closed.
Matti was about to call it a night and go home to get some sleep when the door opened and a florid young man slumped into the passenger seat.
‘Where to, mate?’
‘Kópavogur.’
The young man slumped back in the seat and fumbled with his glasses. Matti caught the whiff of alcohol and the urge for a drink swept over him.
‘Women, they’re rubbish,’ the young man slurred. ‘You married?’
‘No. Not any more.’
‘Good for you, mate, good for you. They’re just . . .’ He floundered for words. ‘They’re just, rubbish. You know?’
‘Know what you mean. Girlfriend chucked you out, has she?’
‘Fuck, no. Worse.’
The taxi hummed past the lights at orange on to Sæbraut.
‘Who d’you work for?
‘Himself? Nonni the Taxi.’
‘Well, mate. Just you be glad you work for a bloke. That’s all I’m saying,’ he said with bitterness in his voice, rooting through the pockets of his jacket and bringing out a half bottle of vodka from an inside pocket.
‘Not in the taxi, please,’ Matti mumbled, every fibre of his body aching for a drink as the man spun off the top and swigged.
‘What? Oh, sorry. But, yeah. Bloody women, specially when your boss is a woman. Nothing worse, specially a bloody ball-breaker like mine. Evil cow.’
‘Where d’you work, then?’
‘Spearpoint.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Never heard of it? What planet have you been on? PR and stuff, consultancy, project management.’
‘Right.’
‘I’ve got two weeks’ holiday. Flights to Florida booked and paid for. Scuba diving by day and pina coladas by night, and then the evil old bitch tells me today that I’m needed next week, and that’s that, no arguments.’
‘Must be something big to take your holiday off you.’
‘Ach. It’s those fucking bunny-hugging do-gooders. They set fire to those trucks and stuff out at Hvalvík and we have to try and clear up the mess, set up press jaunts, show people around, sort out new agencies, all that shit.’
The desire for a drink subsided as Matti took better notice of what his passenger was saying.
‘So. Who’s this ball-breaker you work for?’
‘The Minister’s Lady,’ the man replied through even greater depths of bitterness. ‘The lovely Mrs Sigurjóna Huldudóttir, CEO of Spearpoint, evil, nasty bitch woman,’ he slurred.
Normally he would have kept drunks like this one at arm’s length, but now Matti pricked up his ears.
‘Couldn’t say. Never met the lady.’
‘She’s bloody everywhere, going on about her house in the country or some fucking charity gig she’s organized to collect a few quid for orphans in Africa and make herself look like some kind of a fucking saint.’
‘I know who she is. I’ve just never met her, so I couldn’t say. All right?’
‘Well, all I’m saying is she’s a cow and even though her husband’s a twat he doesn’t deserve her, running his life for him and then shagging her staff as well.’
Although Matti was getting tired of the man, he paid attention all the same.
‘What’s that? Bit frisky, is she?’
‘Ach. Shit. Never mind. Better keep quiet.’
Drops of spit were beginning to collect on the dashboard as the man sat forward in his seat and snarled to himself.
‘Bloody woman,’ he slurred. ‘We all ought to get together and sue the arse off her for harassment. Y’know, if she was a man, she’d never get away with all the shit she gets up to.’
‘Yeah?’
Matti’s pulse was set racing by anything even mildly salacious, but he struggled to mask his curiosity, hoping that a show of indifference would bring out more details.
‘Yeah. Sigurjóna and her studs. Every trip she takes an assistant.’ He spat out the last word with more venom than Matti would have thought possible.
‘Assistant?’
‘Yeah. Personal assistant. Bloody woman. Very personal assistant.’
‘What? Taking notes? Carrying bags?’
‘And the rest. And she changes assistants more often than she changes her knickers. Hell, I’d better keep my gob shut. Said too much already.’
‘Where are you going?’ Matti asked, slowing down as he passed a speed camera.
‘Scaramanga.’
‘Righto. Still doing the business there, are they? Or have all the strippers gone now?’
‘Dunno. Gonna find out. It’s been a fucking shit day with that old witch and I’ve got to do something to make it a bit better.’
‘I can, er, help you out with that. If you’re looking for some company,’ Matti ventured.
‘What?’
‘If you’re looking for a lady to look after you for an hour or two.’
‘OK,’ the man said slowly. ‘Tell you what, give me your number and I’ll give you a call if I don’t get lucky.’
‘Sorry, mate. One time offer only. Not an offer to be passed up.’
‘How much?’
‘Negotiable. Depends what you’re looking for.’
‘No, hell. I’ll sort myself out. I can always go and jump on the bloody boss if I get really desperate.’
Matti slowed, hauled the car off the main road and past the sprawling Smáralind shopping complex, slowing for lights and taking several more turns before pulling up in front of a nondescript building with only a single bright light over its door, where a thickset man in black stood guard.
‘Here we are. That’ll be six thousand five hundred.’
The man dropped a handful of notes on the seat as he struggled to stand up and get out of the car.
‘Want me to wait for you? In case they don’t let you in?’
Matti shrugged as the man found his feet and set his course for the door without answering.
‘Not my problem if you’ve got to walk back to town,’ he muttered to himself as he scooped up the notes and trousered them. It was just as well he hadn’t bothered to set the meter running.
17
Monday, 15 September
‘Snorri?’
‘Yup.’
‘Hi. Busy?’
‘You know,’ Snorri replied guardedly.
‘Listen. You remember the car that was in the dock at Sandeyri?’
‘Blue one, yup.’
‘Stop saying yup, will you? You sound like a teenager.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Look, I have something I’d like you to look into. I have to go out to the InterAlu place again now and I don’t have time, otherwise I’d be doing it myself.’