don’t care one way or the other. The ministry won’t tell me much except that they lost a laptop and they want it back.”
“If they want it back that badly, their best bet would be to go through the small ads until they find whoever’s selling it.”
“I know. All I want to be able to do is tell them that I’ve assigned it to someone. Go through the motions, would you? Talk to someone there and pretend that there’s a hope in hellof finding their laptop. I’m a lot more interested in this fatality at Hotel Gullfoss. Tell me more, would you?”
“It looks like an old chap had booked himself a kinky escort and his blood pressure couldn’t cope with the excitement. Name of Jóhannes Karlsson, in his mid-sixties and no featherweight.”
“The shipowner?” Ívar Laxdal asked, an eyebrow turning into a questioning inverted V.
“No idea. Helgi’s looking into his background and trying to get hold of the man’s wife.”
Ívar Laxdal nodded sagely. “Tread carefully. If it’s him, then expect a few ructions. It’s a prominent family, well connected. Just make sure all the boxes are ticked.”
“You mean they donate heaps of money to one or other of the political parties?”
“Probably. They’re the kind of people who will have influential friends, so be prepared. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, depositing a file on the table. “This gentleman was released from prison in Lithuania and shipped home via Denmark. He arrived just before Christmas and the airport police had a chat with him. Hróbjartur Bjarnthórsson. Remember him?”
Gunna shook her head, trawling her memory for the tongue-twisting name.
“Better known as Bigfoot, maybe?” Ívar Laxdal prompted.
“Ah, yes. How could I forget him? Used to do a bit of debt collecting, didn’t he? Haven’t heard him mentioned for years.”
“He upset someone in Lithuania eight or nine years ago and ended up serving his sentence without a single day’s remission for good behaviour, or so I’m told. Anyway, he’s back now and I’d like an eye kept on him.”
Gunna frowned. “Has he done anything?”
Ívar Laxdal spread his arms questioningly. “Without a doubt. But are we looking out for anything specific? No. I’d besurprised if he didn’t do something, though. It’s not as if he’s the type to get a job emptying the bins for Kópavogur council. More than likely some scores will need settling, so it would be no bad thing if he knows a friendly eye is being kept on him, and that others also know we’re watching him.” He stood up. “I’ll leave the file with you and you can have a look through it when you have a chance, Gunnhildur. No pressure.” He smiled. “But if you look back to nineteen ninety-four, I’d be interested to see what your take on that is. It’s also interesting that he didn’t want to be shipped home to sit out his sentence in the four-star hotels we have for prisons here. In fact, he fought
not
to be shipped home. Why, I wonder?”
He poured the last of his bitter coffee down his throat and was gone, leaving Gunna with a file that she knew, with a sinking feeling, was either going to eat up any chance of a lunch break, or at least half the evening.
“
Hæ
, M UM .”
“Didn’t expect to see you here, sweetheart,” Gunna said in surprise. “Soffía’s not with you?”
There was something about Gísli’s bearing that instantly set Gunna’s alarm bells ringing. He looked nervous, twisting the keys to his Pajero in his fingers and repeatedly checking his mobile phone.
“Going to sea tomorrow, are you?”
“Postponed. There’s a problem with one of the fuel pumps, so we’re not sailing until the weekend now.”
Gunna reached for the coffee jar.
“Already made some, Mum. It’s in the thermos,” Gísli said quickly.
“What?”
“I made some coffee. I thought you’d be home about now and I wanted a word.”
Gunna sat down at the little breakfast bar that Steini
“If they want it back that badly, their best bet would be to go through the small ads until they find whoever’s selling it.”
“I know. All I want to be able to do is tell them that I’ve assigned it to someone. Go through the motions, would you? Talk to someone there and pretend that there’s a hope in hellof finding their laptop. I’m a lot more interested in this fatality at Hotel Gullfoss. Tell me more, would you?”
“It looks like an old chap had booked himself a kinky escort and his blood pressure couldn’t cope with the excitement. Name of Jóhannes Karlsson, in his mid-sixties and no featherweight.”
“The shipowner?” Ívar Laxdal asked, an eyebrow turning into a questioning inverted V.
“No idea. Helgi’s looking into his background and trying to get hold of the man’s wife.”
Ívar Laxdal nodded sagely. “Tread carefully. If it’s him, then expect a few ructions. It’s a prominent family, well connected. Just make sure all the boxes are ticked.”
“You mean they donate heaps of money to one or other of the political parties?”
“Probably. They’re the kind of people who will have influential friends, so be prepared. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, depositing a file on the table. “This gentleman was released from prison in Lithuania and shipped home via Denmark. He arrived just before Christmas and the airport police had a chat with him. Hróbjartur Bjarnthórsson. Remember him?”
Gunna shook her head, trawling her memory for the tongue-twisting name.
“Better known as Bigfoot, maybe?” Ívar Laxdal prompted.
“Ah, yes. How could I forget him? Used to do a bit of debt collecting, didn’t he? Haven’t heard him mentioned for years.”
“He upset someone in Lithuania eight or nine years ago and ended up serving his sentence without a single day’s remission for good behaviour, or so I’m told. Anyway, he’s back now and I’d like an eye kept on him.”
Gunna frowned. “Has he done anything?”
Ívar Laxdal spread his arms questioningly. “Without a doubt. But are we looking out for anything specific? No. I’d besurprised if he didn’t do something, though. It’s not as if he’s the type to get a job emptying the bins for Kópavogur council. More than likely some scores will need settling, so it would be no bad thing if he knows a friendly eye is being kept on him, and that others also know we’re watching him.” He stood up. “I’ll leave the file with you and you can have a look through it when you have a chance, Gunnhildur. No pressure.” He smiled. “But if you look back to nineteen ninety-four, I’d be interested to see what your take on that is. It’s also interesting that he didn’t want to be shipped home to sit out his sentence in the four-star hotels we have for prisons here. In fact, he fought
not
to be shipped home. Why, I wonder?”
He poured the last of his bitter coffee down his throat and was gone, leaving Gunna with a file that she knew, with a sinking feeling, was either going to eat up any chance of a lunch break, or at least half the evening.
“
Hæ
, M UM .”
“Didn’t expect to see you here, sweetheart,” Gunna said in surprise. “Soffía’s not with you?”
There was something about Gísli’s bearing that instantly set Gunna’s alarm bells ringing. He looked nervous, twisting the keys to his Pajero in his fingers and repeatedly checking his mobile phone.
“Going to sea tomorrow, are you?”
“Postponed. There’s a problem with one of the fuel pumps, so we’re not sailing until the weekend now.”
Gunna reached for the coffee jar.
“Already made some, Mum. It’s in the thermos,” Gísli said quickly.
“What?”
“I made some coffee. I thought you’d be home about now and I wanted a word.”
Gunna sat down at the little breakfast bar that Steini
Similar Books
