Winterlude

by Quentin Bates

  ‘Where were you on Sunday?’

  ‘Right here. I’ve not been south of the heath since the summer.’

  ‘And Reynir?’ Helgi asked softly.

  ‘Well,’ Össur said slowly, ‘it’d be easy enough for me to tell you he’d been here, wouldn’t it? And I guess you’d have to believe me.’

  ‘Not necessarily. Try me.’

  ‘I reckon you’ll have to speak to Reynir and ask him yourself,’ Össur said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘He’ll be here soon enough.’

  The old lady had laid the table with coffee and a plate laden with slices of heavy bread, buttered and laid with strips of cheese and fat meat.

  ‘Come in, Helgi. It’s good to see you,’ she twittered. ‘You haven’t changed,’ she lied as Helgi stroked the top of his head and smiled back at her. The old clock ticked insistently on its shelf above the door and next to it was a picture of Aron Kjartansson. Helgi looked at it and guessed it must have been taken when the boy was eight or nine years old.

  ‘My grandson,’ the old lady said, catching Helgi’s eye. ‘He’d be fifteen now. I suppose it’s that man you’re here about,’ she said, then lapsed into silence as she clattered cups and plates.

  ‘It’s been a while since I was here last. How have you been keeping?’ he asked politely as the old lady finally sat down.

  ‘Not so bad. Still looking after these boys of mine when they should all have been married by now,’ she grumbled. ‘How about you? How’s Magga?’

  ‘We split up. About six years ago,’ Helgi told her with a touch of guilt in his voice, as if he were sure the old lady would blame him.

  ‘There’s a shame. Just like Kjartan and Katla, not that I cared all that much for Katla,’ she said. ‘And it’s not as if your mother’s here any longer to keep an eye on you, is it?’

  ‘I get by,’ Helgi assured her.

  ‘Married again, are you?’

  ‘Yes, and two little ones.’

  The old lady’s face lit up. ‘How lovely,’ she crowed. ‘Össur, you should take a leaf out of this man’s book and find yourself a new young lady.’

  ‘Staying at the hotel in Blönduós, are you?’ Össur asked lazily. ‘Hope they look after you all right,’ he said with a leer and Helgi looked back at him, trying not to show the discomfort he felt.

  There was a lull in the conversation, filled with the sound of feet pounding up the steps outside and the door banging open.

  ‘Reynir, I guess,’ Össur said simply, his face buried in his mug.

  ‘So who’s the raving ponce who drives a girl’s Daihatsu?’ a grating voice demanded from the hall. ‘It has to be a policeman, I reckon. Either that or there’s a troop of dancing girls stripping off in the kitchen for me.’

  The face in the doorway was as creased as Össur’s, but with a wild grin and an even wilder look in the eyes.

  ‘It had to be the filth,’ he said. ‘The dancing girls would have been too much of a good thing. I was wondering if you were going to turn up, Helgi. Having a good time at the hotel, are you?’

  ‘Fine, thanks, Reynir. How’re you keeping?’

  ‘Ach, y’know. I have to keep the cows happy here and then I have to go over to the Hook or Blönduós and keep the cows happy there as well,’ he said as his mother frowned in disapproval.

  ‘Sit down, Reynir. There’s coffee and there’s buttered bread. And be polite to our guest,’ she scolded.

  Reynir poured a mugful of coffee and slid a slice of bread into his mouth in one piece.

  ‘We’re not shedding any tears here, Helgi,’ Reynir said through a mouthful of bread and cheese, folding a second ready to follow it. ‘Not for that bastard who ran over Kjartan’s boy. Just the opposite. We’d have cracked open the champagne if we’d had any to crack open.’

  He slid the second sandwich into his mouth with every sign of satisfaction.

  ‘Where were you on Sunday afternoon?’

  ‘Me? I was in Blönduós Saturday night. I was here on Sunday and back in Blönduós on Sunday night.’

  ‘And will someone confirm that for you?’

  Reynir leered and nodded towards his mother, her back to them as she sliced more bread. ‘Tell you afterwards, Helgi,’ he murmured. ‘There are things a man’s mother doesn’t want to hear.’

  The woman was clearly terrified and kept glancing at Helgi as if to be sure that he was real as he parked outside the petrol station and walked in, keys swinging from his fingers and a frown on his face. She had flatly refused to meet him at her home and the paper cup of coffee she held in both hands shook.

  Helgi went to the counter and bought himself a newspaper and his own cup of coffee, which had clearly been on the hotplate for a long time, watching the woman from the corner of his eye as she repeatedly stared at him then looked away. He paid, slopped some milk into the cup, hoping it would deaden the rawness of the over-strong coffee, and sauntered over to where she sat at the window.

  ‘Mæja?’ he asked, sitting next to her and looking out of the window at the black strip of road that ran through the little town and the distant mountains beyond.

  ‘Yes,’ she said with a tremor in her voice. ‘That’s me.’

  ‘I take it you have a reason to want to meet here?’

  ‘My husband’s home,’ she said simply, fidgeting and looking around.

  ‘Just sit still,’ Helgi murmured to her. ‘Don’t keep looking round unless you want to look suspicious.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s just . . .’

  ‘It’s just what?’

  ‘I’m not used to this. Look, can we make this quick? What do you want?’

  ‘I’m a police officer and I’m investigating a very serious crime. I understand that Reynir Aronsson was with you on Saturday and Sunday?’

  Mæja lifted her cup to her lips with both hands, sipped and coughed. ‘Yes,’ she said in a dull voice. ‘He was with me.’

  ‘From what time on Saturday?’

  ‘Around nine, after Hjörtur went to work.’

  ‘Your husband?’

  She nodded.

  ‘When did Reynir leave?’

  ‘Before six.’

  ‘And he was back on Sunday night? Same time?’

  This time she coughed hard and sniffed, glancing around to see the girl behind the counter looking at them without even trying to hide her curiosity.

  ‘No. Earlier. In the afternoon. Around three.’

  ‘And where was your husband?’

  Mæja’s voice quivered. ‘He does shifts at the power station. Four days at a time.’

  ‘And while he’s away . . . ?’ Helgi said.

  ‘Look, I’m not proud of this. You want to know any more?’ Mæja hissed with scorn in her thin voice. ‘You want to know the details, or what? Times, maybe? Positions?’

  Helgi’s phone buzzed discreetly and he glanced at the screen to see a ‘call me when you’re free’ message from Gunna.

  ‘No, that’s none of my business. But as long as you’re able to confirm that Reynir was with you, that’s all I need to know.’

  Her sigh of relief was almost palpable as she zipped her coat around her plump figure and dropped off the high chair to her feet. Helgi was surprised to see that she was hardly tall enough to reach his shoulder.

  ‘This won’t go any further, will it?’ she asked, hands thrust into her pockets, a packet of cigarettes already in her hand.

  ‘Not unless it has to go to court.’

  ‘Court?’ She shook her head. ‘Never.’

  Helgi tried to smile at her. ‘We’ll see,’ he said. ‘I don’t think it’s likely to go that far.’

  ‘Don’t worry. It won’t.’

  She left at a trot and Helgi balanced his phone in his hand as he watched her hurry across the garage forecourt, shoulders hunched, stopping to light a cigarette in spite of the wind before she disappeared around a corner. He called and waited for Gunna to answer as he thought through what Mæja had told him, wondering how trustworthy her
words were and at the back of his mind wondering what to say to Anna Björg.

  ‘Gunnhildur.’ Gunna’s voice crackled into his ear.

  ‘Hæ. It’s me. Any progress your end?’

  ‘A few bits and pieces. It looks like Borgar Jónsson was planning a new life in Turkey before he found himself in jail. Kjartan’s son Elmar is in hospital with two broken legs and a dislocated shoulder, and it turns out that the van he’s been driving used to belong to Ingi Aronsson.’

  ‘Really?’ Helgi frowned. ‘I haven’t seen Ingi, only Össur and Reynir, and their mum.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘They’re no less nuts than they used to be twenty years ago, not that that tells you much.’

  ‘Were any of them in Reykjavík on Sunday?’

  ‘Doesn’t look like it. I have a reliable sighting of Ingi on Sunday. Össur swears he hasn’t been further than Stadarskáli since the summer and I’ve just been checking out Reynir’s alibi for Sunday.’

  ‘Watertight, is it?’

  ‘I don’t have any particular reason to doubt it . . .’

  ‘But you do,’ Gunna said, sensing the disquiet in his voice. ‘Would it stand up in court?’

  Helgi laughed and looked up with a start to see Anna Björg getting out of a squad car on the garage forecourt, a smile on her face as she strode towards him with her blonde mop alluringly adrift in the wind.

  ‘Still there, are you?’ Gunna asked. ‘You all right? Where are you, anyway?’

  ‘Yeah. Still here. I’m in the petrol station in Blönduós. No, I’m not sure Reynir’s friend would want to go to court, somehow.’

  ‘Ah. Like that, is it? Well, I’ll leave you to it. Stuff to be dealing with here.’

  Helgi smiled thinly as Anna Björg sat next to him where Mæja had been sitting, stretching out in the uncomfortable seat and grinning at him.

  ‘Where are you taking this?’ Helgi asked. ‘Any leads?’

  ‘To be honest, I’m just hoping you going up there wasn’t a wild-goose chase, as Laxdal will jump on me for your expenses otherwise. But we have something to go on. I’m emailing you a few pictures of the Land Cruiser that place it right where we want it on Sunday afternoon. You’d best get to the station in Blönduós and have a look at them before you go much further, all right? How much longer do you reckon you’ll be up there?’

  ‘Depends what these pictures show, I reckon,’ Helgi said, avoiding Anna Björg’s eyes.

  ‘Good, that suits me. Tinna Sigvalds said there was something about it that rang a bell and she’s looking into city centre footage, so if she comes up with anything I’ll let you know. How’s Anna Björg? Seen her yet?’

  ‘You know her?’ Helgi asked, startled.

  ‘Of course I know Anna Björg. We were at college together. Give her my regards, would you?’

  ‘Will do, Chief. Will do,’ he said, and ended the call.

  He sat back and reached for his paper cup, shaking his head.

  ‘Good morning,’ Anna Björg said. ‘Up early today? Sleep well, did you?’

  He resisted an urge to place his hand on hers, and felt his face redden.

  ‘Like a log,’ he admitted. ‘Look, Anna Björg, about yesterday. I really like you a lot, but . . .’

  ‘I know,’ she said soothingly. ‘You’re a married man and you want to go home to your wife without feeling too guilty. Is that it?’

  ‘Yeah. I suppose so.’

  She put out a hand and patted his reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, Helgi. I’ve heard it all before and I’ve been five minutes’ weakness on a married man’s part once or twice before, so don’t worry about it. I’ll just be a pleasant memory you won’t mention to anyone, won’t I?’

  He could see the concern in her eyes.

  ‘Of course. I’m not someone who needs to brag,’ he said, hurt that she thought he might boast about his night with her. ‘I just hope you enjoyed it,’ he said softly. ‘Because I certainly did.’

  ‘Hafdís?’ Gunna asked.

  The tall woman sitting in the interview room looked her up and down. ‘That’s me. You are?’

  ‘Gunnhildur Gísladóttir. I’m investigating your husband’s death.’

  She shut the door and took a seat while Hafdís looked somewhere between bored and irritated. ‘I’ve been here for almost an hour,’ she said. ‘Just so you’re aware.’

  Gunna wanted to snap back that she had been on her feet since before six that morning, but bit back the reply she knew would do no good. ‘I appreciate your coming in. I believe you spoke to my colleague Helgi yesterday? Unfortunately he’s been called away so things aren’t as smooth as they should be. Anyhow, apologies for making you wait. Where do you live now?’

  ‘Oslo. I got a flight home last night. Borgar and I are still married on paper, so I’m his next of kin, I suppose, and someone has to deal with everything. I can’t expect his brothers to do much.’

  ‘When did you last see him?’

  ‘The day after the trial.’

  ‘Almost five years ago. Were you in the process of divorcing him, or what?’

  ‘It was happening but there was no hurry. It’s not as if Borgar and I were likely to run into one another.’

  ‘Was your relationship amicable?’

  Hafdís sighed. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know. I never met him and have no idea what he was like. That’s why I’m asking.’

  ‘We spoke when we had to, although it’s not easy trying to discuss a divorce settlement with someone who’s only on the end of a payphone for a few hours a day. The children miss him, but they’re not aware of the whole story. They were teenagers when he was . . .’ She gulped. ‘When Borgar was sent to prison.’

  ‘You knew he was out on parole?’

  ‘When your boss called me yesterday was the first I knew of it.’

  Gunna opened her mouth to put Hafdís right, but decided against it.

  ‘Tell me about Turkey.’

  Hafdís dropped her gaze to the table between them. ‘We had planned to move there one day; there, or somewhere in North Cyprus.’

  ‘How far did you take that?’

  ‘Well,’ she said uncertainly, ‘to be quite honest, I’m not entirely sure. We had been there several times before the children were born and we had some friends there, although they were more Borgar’s friends than mine and I haven’t had contact with them since I moved to Norway.’

  ‘Did you invest there?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge,’ she said and a look of frustration crossed her face. ‘But I never knew how much money Borgar’s businesses had. Sometimes we were awash with spare cash. Sometimes there was hardly enough to buy food or pay any bills. He wasn’t an easy man to live with.’

  ‘So you don’t know if there were any investments there, or if Borgar had any business in Turkey?’

  ‘Who knows? Why?’ she demanded as if a sudden realization had just dawned on her. ‘What do you know? I’m his next of kin so whatever assets Borgar had are legally mine.’

  Gunna sat back, pleased that she had pressed the right button. ‘I don’t have anything concrete. Just a few leads that I still have to follow up. Who had a grudge against your husband? Who might have had enough of a grudge to want him dead?’

  This time Hafdís sat back as if she had been slapped. ‘So many people,’ she said bitterly. ‘He had screwed so many people for money it was unbelievable. Why do you think I wanted to leave the country? I used to have a comfortable life, of sorts. Living with Borgar was never predictable. But now I’ve had to go back to work to support the children while their father was in jail for that stupid drunken escapade. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t told him. I always knew he’d do something like that one day.’

  ‘Any names?’ Gunna asked.

  ‘There’s Henning who ran the boatyard, which was about the only business Borgar had that was steady. Losing that hit him hard and I did feel sorry for him. But the rest of them were the same wide boys as Borgar an
d it’s difficult to feel any sympathy for them if they lost some money. They’d have done exactly the same to him.’

  ‘Mæja?’ Anna Björg looked puzzled. ‘I was on traffic duty all day on Sunday. I saw Ingi Aronsson heading north on Sunday morning and around midday I saw Hjörtur Sighvats coming this way. That’s Mæja’s husband.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. Hjörtur drives a big Econoline van that they travel around the country in sometimes. You can’t miss it, plus he waved as he went past.’

  Helgi’s fingers formed a steeple in front of his face as he thought. ‘He wouldn’t have gone back to work that night?’

  Anna Björg shook her head. ‘I doubt it. But I can check,’ she decided, phone to her ear while Helgi went back to the fish and potatoes that had been forgotten in front of him.

  His talk with Mæja that morning had left him disturbed. Her agitation had been palpable and it was clear that she was terrified, although he wasn’t sure if this was because of Reynir himself or if she was more frightened of her husband.

  Anna Björg returned and sat down opposite him. ‘Hjörtur Sighvats was on a four-day shift that ended at eight on Sunday morning,’ she said. ‘I spoke to the supervisor at the power station and he confirmed it. Hjörtur goes back to work tonight.’

  ‘So you reckon Mæja is lying to protect Reynir?’

  ‘Who knows? You’re from round here, Helgi. You know what people are like. Sometimes it’s a nightmare figuring out just why someone does something, and sometimes there’s no reason to it.’

  ‘I know,’ Helgi said gloomily. ‘Why do you think I left?’

  ‘I always thought it was because Halla wanted to live in Reykjavík?’

  ‘That was part of it. Anyway, how long has this been going on between Mæja and Reynir? And is it Reynir or her husband that she’s so frightened of?’

  ‘It’s been going on for years. There can hardly be anyone in the place who doesn’t know about it.’

  ‘Apart from Hjörtur?’

  ‘Yes. Except Hjörtur.’

  ‘He goes to work at the power station and Reynir moves in for a couple of nights to keep his bed and his wife warm for him? Could you maybe speak to Mæja while I go out to Tunga again?’