Thin Ice: An Inspector Gunna Mystery (Gunnhildur Mystery Book 5)

by Quentin Bates

  Magni turned up the heating that had been set just high enough to ensure that nothing froze and the place gradually began to warm up enough for him to discard his coat, while the two women remained huddled in theirs as they perched on kitchen chairs. Össur sat with his hands deep in his coat pockets, angry at the usually thick-headed Magni’s practical nature.

  ‘Hey, you,’ Magni called over to the older of the two women. ‘Come here and stir this, will you?’

  A saucepan of soup was starting to simmer on the vast stove, filling the kitchen with its aroma.

  ‘Me?’ the older woman asked.

  ‘No, Father Christmas. Who do you think I mean?’

  She took the wooden spoon uncertainly while the girl smiled to herself.

  ‘You,’ Magni said, pointing at her and the smirk disappeared. ‘Have a look in those cupboards and see if you can find some bowls or something.’

  Magni ladled soup into four bowls and handed them round. Össur spooned his up quickly, the two women exchanging glances and wrinkled their noses as he slurped. Magni drank his soup straight from the bowl in long draughts, and belched.

  ‘Fuck me, that’s better,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten how hungry I was. Who’s washing up?’ He looked at everyone in turn. ‘Well, I’m not doing it.’

  ‘Nor am I. Wash up, for fuck’s sake?’ Össur dropped his empty bowl with a bang on the table.

  ‘Looks like one of you ladies, I reckon.’ Magni scratched his head and yawned. ‘We ought to get to know each other considering we might be here a while. What’s your name?’

  The older woman pointed her nose in the air.

  ‘I’m Tinna Lind,’ the younger one said, a spark of amusement in her dark eyes. ‘This is my mum and her name’s Erna.’

  ‘You didn’t have to tell them, did you?’ Erna snapped. ‘How long is this ridiculous charade going to go on?’

  ‘I’m Magni and that’s Össur over there,’ Magni said slowly, picking his teeth with the nail of his little finger while Össur scowled at the mention of his own name. ‘And we don’t want to be here any more than you do. I wonder if there’s any coffee here?’

  After the long drive in the dark, it was a release to sit back and relax. Össur brooded to himself, while Magni took the opportunity to examine the two women they had managed to abduct. The older one was stylish, blonde hair smartly and simply cut, her soft leather jacket zipped to the neck, designer jeans and boots made from what looked to be the same expensive leather as her jacket. The daughter was very different, a slight young woman with an impish button nose and an air of suppressed energy about her, wearing jeans that looked more bargain basement than designer and with hair in braided cornrows, tied in a loose knot at the back of her head.

  Tinna Lind looked back at him with a curiosity that contrasted with Erna’s frosty aloofness. She saw a raw-boned young man with red stubble and shoulders as wide as a wardrobe sitting opposite her, with no apparent concern on his face, while the sinister of the two, the older man with the air of desperation about him, had disappeared down the hall.

  Össur came back to the table and sat down, his hands still deep in his jacket pockets. He glared at the two women and finally took his hands out of his pockets, holding a packet of cigarettes in one hand. He clicked his Zippo and blew a cloud of grey smoke.

  ‘So what do we do now, Magni?’

  Magni rattled the contents of a cupboard and came up with a vacuum pack of coffee. ‘I don’t rightly know. This was supposed to be an easy job for me. Stand there, look a bit heavy and cash on the nail afterwards. Now I’m stuck out here in the arsehole of beyond.’

  ‘What have you guys done?’ Tinna Lind asked, looking from one to the other. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’

  ‘Mind your own business if you know what’s good for you,’ Össur snarled.

  ‘I want to go home right now,’ Erna broke in, her voice shrill and angry. ‘I demand to go home immediately.’ She pushed her chair back so that it clattered on the floor behind her. Össur stood up slowly, the smoke from the cigarette curling past his eyes and into his hair.

  ‘Shut your mouth,’ he said with quiet menace.

  ‘No. I won’t be quiet. I refuse to be quiet. I’ve been abducted and I’ll see you spend years in prison for this, you . . .’

  Her words were cut short as Össur’s short, sharp punch slammed into her belly and Erna fell to the floor, doubled up and gasping for breath. Tinna Lind knelt by her mother and cradled her as Össur stepped back, the cigarette still between his lips.

  ‘Hey, man, what d’you do that for? No call for that, was there?’ Magni said, standing up and towering over Össur. ‘The lady’s upset but even you can see she might have a reason to be pissed off, so there’s no need to smack her.’ He folded his arms, the muscles of his forearms bunching and straining the sleeves of his hooded sweater.

  ‘Don’t you give me that. I don’t need lessons from the fucking hired help,’ Össur spat and stalked out into the lobby of the echoing hotel, clicking off lights as he went.

  The man with the deeply unfashionable mullet was face down on the floor. He craned his neck, twisting around to try and see what was happening behind him, until a sharp cuff to the back of the head discouraged him. His hands were secured behind his back and one foot had been tied to the leg of the table with many bindings of thin blue rope.

  He could hear the old man wheeze as he pulled up a chair and sat next to him, leaning down close enough that he could feel as well as smell the brandy fumes on his breath.

  ‘Árni, I’m disappointed in you. I never thought you’d let me down like that.’

  Árni wriggled on the floor and tried to reply, but the rag tied around his face and filling his mouth simply turned his protests into an unintelligible mumble.

  Alli leaned down and picked up something from the table. He tapped it on the floor and Árni’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Now listen to me, Árni,’ he said, and there was a furious desperation in his voice. ‘You’re going to tell me where Össi and that other idiot went, aren’t you? Because Baldvin’s not a happy boy these days, had his beauty spoilt. So if you don’t sing like a bird, then I’m going to give these to Baldvin to play with.’

  He snapped shut the pair of garden clippers, and two short, curved blades meshed neatly together as the long handles closed.

  ‘Understand?’

  Árni nodded furiously.

  Alli nodded to Baldvin, lips swollen from the casual backhand swipe he had received. The big man pressed a button and the CD player burst into life.

  ‘Ah,’ Alli said with approval. ‘Good old Black Sabbath, you’ve gotta love ’em.’ His voice hardened suddenly. ‘Where’s Össi?’ he demanded, yelling over the music, leaning forward and loosening the rag tied around Árni’s face.

  ‘I don’t know where they went. They asked me to meet them here and that’s all I know.’

  ‘Bullshit!’ Alli screamed and slapped Árni’s face. ‘You were part of it. Where did they go?’

  ‘Honest, Alli. I don’t know. Össi just said meet him here at three to give him a lift somewhere and that’s all there was to it. I thought it was a job.’

  ‘It was a fucking job,’ Alli yelled, his face going red.

  ‘No! I meant I thought it was a job for you.’

  Alli nodded to Baldvin, who sat on the floor to untie the lace of Árni’s scuffed training shoe and pull it off. He wrinkled his nose at the smell and glanced at Alli.

  ‘Get the fuck on with it.’

  Baldvin pulled off the sock and threw it behind him.

  ‘Last chance,’ Alli said, his eyes bulging in fury.

  ‘I’m telling the truth!’ Árni screeched. ‘Össi said he needed a lift and to be here at three! I won’t be late again!’

  Alli handed the clippers to Baldvin. Árni could feel the cold metal hook around his little toe. Even now he could not believe that Alli could be so brutal as to carry out his threat.

  ‘Where. Did. They. G
o?’ Alli said, pausing between each word. ‘What was the plan, Árni?’

  ‘I told you, I don’t know any plan.’

  ‘Shit, you’re too stupid to live,’ Alli said, and pointed at the foot tied to the table as Árni twisted round to see the two handles come smartly together. There was no pain at first but his eyes bulged as he saw his little toe roll across the carpet while Baldvin stood up and hurried from the room with his hand to his mouth. It took a few seconds before the full realization hit him, followed by the pain. Alli stood up and went to the CD player, turning up the volume to drown out Árni’s disbelieving sobs.

  The place seemed warmer. Magni boiled water in a pot on the stove and used it to make coffee, which he gulped with obvious pleasure.

  ‘No milk, I’m afraid,’ he said to Erna, who sat pale and drawn opposite him, a cup in front of her.

  ‘What’s going to happen to us?’

  ‘What? Oh, you’ll be all right. I expect we’ll drop you off somewhere tomorrow.’

  ‘Where?’ Her eyes widened in confusion. ‘Why? Who are you two?

  ‘Eh? I shouldn’t tell you. You know, you’ll tell the police and everything.’

  Erna’s face softened as she looked him in the eyes, arms wrapped around herself. ‘Help us get away. I won’t say anything to the police,’ she whispered. ‘But don’t hurt us, will you?’

  ‘What?’ Magni looked surprised at the suggestion. ‘Why should I want to hurt you?’

  ‘Your friend?’

  ‘Össi?’ He laughed. ‘He won’t hurt you.’

  ‘He already did. Didn’t you see?’

  A tear crept down Erna’s cheek.

  ‘He gave you a bit of a tap, but you were screaming at him,’ Magni said. ‘And Össur’s a nervous type. Know what I mean?’

  ‘This place is called Hotel Hraun,’ Tinna Lind announced, marching into the kitchen and dropping some brochures on the table. ‘See? Hotel Hraun offers peace and seclusion in its selection of twelve luxury rooms, all with full en suite facilities. Guests have the opportunity of sampling some of the finest Icelandic cuisine in our exclusive restaurant,’ she read out. ‘That’s the big room out there, I guess. Anyway, the place is open seven months a year, but closes from November to April. So nobody’s going to come here until April. That’s cheerful, isn’t it?’

  ‘We won’t be here long, just you see,’ Magni said.

  ‘We have a car and no petrol and we’re stuck in an empty hotel miles from anywhere. Oh, and I already checked, the phone’s not working. So how do you propose getting back to civilization, or even have any ideas on what we eat once the freezer’s empty?’

  ‘I . . . er. That’s for Össur to decide. He’s the man,’ Magni said as Össur appeared in the doorway. ‘I’m just the hired help.’

  Erna looked up, lifting her eyes from the floor.

  ‘Where do we sleep?’ she asked, eyes darting around the room.

  ‘Up to you, I guess,’ Magni said. ‘There’s plenty of rooms to choose from.’

  The house was the cheapest place Gísli and Drífa had been able to find, a ramshackle building dating back to a time before building regulations had been anything more than a loose set of guidelines. In the intervening years a string of owners had put their stamp on the place one by one, adding an extension here and a bathroom there, as well as a couple of sheds outside.

  There was a front door that was rarely used, while the parking spaces at the back of the house meant the back door was the entrance that everyone used. Gísli and Drífa were living in the kitchen and the room at the rear of the back-to-front building, while the living room had become a workshop while the new floor was being laid on old joists. For Gunna it was a relief to escape the city and spend a couple of hours with young Kjartan Gíslason on her lap while Gísli, Laufey and Steini hammered and sawed in the next room.

  ‘You look tired, Drífa,’ Gunna said when there was a lull in the hammering.

  ‘Yeah, a bit.’

  ‘Keeping you awake, is he?’

  ‘Twice last night,’ Drífa yawned. ‘Which is a good night.’

  ‘The house looks good. Or it will do once the living room’s done.’

  ‘I hope so. I don’t know how Gísli would have managed without Steini to give him a hand. He’s such a lovely man. Where did you find him, Gunna?’

  ‘Floating in the harbour at Sandgerdi a few years ago.’

  Drífa looked sideways at Gunna, unsure if this were a joke of some kind. ‘But you knew him before, didn’t you?’

  The question gave Gunna an awkward stab of recollection. ‘Sort of. I knew who he was and that he had been at sea with Laufey’s father. Steini was on board when Raggi was lost and took part in the search. I know he was at the memorial service, but to be quite honest, I was such a wreck that day that it all passed in a daze.’

  She shivered at the recollection of those weeks, first the call from the command centre to tell her that Ragnar was not accounted for, a phrase that she found ridiculous at the time, the visit from the ship’s commanding officer, ill at ease and formal in his dress uniform, and the difficult calls and visits from others he had sailed with. The part that she found hardest to accept was that there had been no body, no remains, nothing to pack in a box and bury where she and the children could visit it. There had been a formal inquiry that placed no particular blame anywhere and culminated in an open verdict. There had been no discernible reason why Ragnar should have vanished under the hull of the disabled coaster the Coast Guard vessel had towed clear of the bay where it had grounded, and his dive partner at the time had not been able to account for his disappearance.

  The memorial service had been packed and Gunna had sat through it numb as uniformed figures filled the church behind her. What had stayed in her mind as the defining image of that grim day was ten-year-old Gísli in his best clothes with a look of confusion on his face, wondering where his stepfather had disappeared to while baby Laufey laughed and chattered to herself.

  ‘Gunna?’

  It seemed suddenly unreal that the young boy and the girl who had been a baby in her arms on that long, cold day were now busily nailing down floorboards in the next room.

  ‘Gunna?’

  She shook her head and hugged Kjartan as he gurgled on her lap.

  ‘Sorry, Drífa. I was miles away.’

  ‘You want me to take him?’

  ‘No, he’s fine here. I’m sure you don’t mind a break, do you?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Drífa laughed, and looked at the kitchen clock. ‘Do you want to eat here, or are you and Steini and Laufey going home?’

  ‘I’m happy to eat here. Shall we get a takeaway?’

  Drífa fetched a menu pinned to the corkboard and they quickly selected.

  ‘Half an hour,’ Drífa said, putting the phone down. ‘Will you go, or shall I?’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Gunna decided. ‘After all, it’s granny’s treat. The place just down from the church, is it?’

  ‘That’s the one. It’ll be great not to have to cook for a change.’

  Gunna poured herself half a mug of coffee and sipped. Kjartan sat with his hands on the table in front of her, playing with a spoon that tinkled every time he dropped it on the table top.

  ‘Gunna, I’m a bit concerned about Gísli,’ Drífa said quietly, peering through the open door at the three of them laughing and working in the other room.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Gunna asked, her antennae immediately alert.

  ‘It’s his father,’ Drífa said haltingly and Gunna felt a chill for a second time. ‘I don’t know if I should tell you, really.’

  ‘Why? What’s the problem?’

  ‘I’m not sure. You know they were in touch for a while when Gísli went and found him? It was when he was having a really bad time, you know . . .?’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Gunna said. Gísli fathering two children six weeks apart had hit her hard, but she could not avoid seeing that guilt had eaten him up during those awkward mon
ths after Soffía had given birth to Ari Gíslason and Drífa had produced Kjartan Gíslason only a few weeks later.

  ‘Well, you know his dad didn’t want to know? Wasn’t interested?’

  ‘Yeah, and I wasn’t exactly surprised.’

  ‘He’s been in touch again. A couple of weeks ago his dad called and then came out here to see him. He’s not well and I think Gísli’s a bit screwed up about it. But you know what he’s like. If he has a problem, he keeps it bottled up inside.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Gunna said with a shudder at being reminded within the space of a few minutes of both the man in her life she would rather forget about and the one whose loss was still deeply painful. ‘I’ll have a quiet word if you like.’

  2

  Friday

  Smoke belched from the upstairs window in a thick black column into the cold morning air. Eiríkur stood back, his nose wrinkled against the smell of burning plastic as he and two uniformed officers kept back the line of vaguely interested spectators.

  ‘Anyone in there?’ a voice behind him asked.

  ‘We don’t know yet.’

  ‘Because that’s my cousin’s place.’

  The voice sounded worried and Eiríkur looked round to see a woman in a raincoat with its hood protecting her head from the drizzling rain.

  ‘In that case, you’d better come with me,’ he said.

  In the shelter of a shop doorway she folded her arms and looked disappointed, as if she had always known that her cousin Árni would one day come to a bad end.

  ‘Árni, you say his name is? Whose son?’

  ‘Sigurvinsson. His dad was Sigurvin Jónsson. We’re related.’

  Helgi was tempted to tell her that the man’s genealogy didn’t need to be traced, but he kept quiet.

  ‘He lives there alone?’

  ‘I’m not sure. He’s married to a woman called Inga Jóna Steinsdóttir, but sometimes they’re together and sometimes they’re not, if you understand what I mean.’

  ‘Children? I mean, any children who might be in the property?’