for Parliament. She was surprised to see just how small a junior MP’s office was, a book-lined cubbyhole crammed into the roof space that had probably been a servant’s bedroom a century before, and guessed that this represented a temporary drop in status compared to the echoing spaces of his previous workplace.
Hallur waved Gunna to a seat in the only spare chair in the room, and placed himself behind the desk in the corner, as if he knew the angled light coming in through the skylight would accentuate his chiselled features.
“Thanks for finding time—” Gunna began, but Hallur waved her words away.
“I’m often here on a Sunday morning when it’s quiet. How can I help you?” he asked with a show of suavity.
“I expect you probably have an idea already. I’m working on the investigation into the death of Svanhildur Mjöll Sigurgeirsdóttir. You were acquainted with her?” Gunna said, going straight to the point.
“I, er, yes. I had an acquaintance with her,” Hallur mumbled, and Gunna looked at him enquiringly. He raised his chin to speak clearly and met her gaze. “I did know her and I am deeply saddened by her unfortunate death.”
Soundbite talk, Gunna thought, wondering if or when the mask would be allowed to slip.
“I’m trying to track her movements leading up to her death. When did you see her last?”
“On the fourth. Ten days ago,” he replied promptly.
“You’re sure?”
Hallur nodded. “I checked my diary when I knew you were on the way. I had an idea what you’d want to ask me about.”
“And how did she strike you then?”
“As usual,” Hallur said with a shrug. “Lively, happy, excited at the possibility of being back on TV.”
“I take it she wasn’t going to be hosting any heavyweight political debates?”
“That’s an unkind comment, officer. She had an offer from a production company to front a fashion show of some kind.”
“D’you know the name of the company?” Gunna asked, jotting down notes.
“I’m sorry. We didn’t tend to discuss business.”
“What did you discuss, if you don’t mind my asking?”
A rivulet of perspiration made its way from the parting in Hallur’s groomed dark hair and came to rest in the stubble on his jaw. “All sorts. But I wouldn’t say we were close friends.”
“What sort of friends were you? Lovers?” Gunna asked. A jolt of discomfort passed through Hallur’s shoulders.
“We were… good friends,” he admitted finally.
“It seems an unusual friendship,” Gunna said drily. “A wellknown politician with a high-profile wife and some strong opinions, and a rather shallow woman. From what I’ve been able to make out, you couldn’t have had a great deal in common.”
“Sport, mostly. I trained at Fit Club once or twice a week when I was a city councillor. It was as good a reason as any for getting out of the building for an hour when the office politics were making me lose the will to live.”
Getting somewhere at last, Gunna thought.
“So you met Svana at Fit Club?”
“That’s right. We’d bump into each other once or twice a week and chat over a coffee.”
“And you continued to ‘bump into each other’ and ‘chat’ even when you’d stopped training at her club?”
Hallur nodded. “Svana had a very wide circle of acquaintances. A very disparate group of people.”
“All men?” Gunna observed.
He nodded again. “I don’t believe she had many close female friends. You understand?”
It was Gunna’s turn to nod. “You still haven’t told me the nature of your relationship, other than that you chatted occasionally over a latte. I have to tell you that you have been identified as a regular visitor to Svana’s apartment.”
Gunna could see that Hallur’s composure was gradually failing.
“This isn’t on record,” she continued, “and you’re not sworn to tell the truth, although I wouldn’t expect anything else of someone in your position.”
“This goes no
Hallur waved Gunna to a seat in the only spare chair in the room, and placed himself behind the desk in the corner, as if he knew the angled light coming in through the skylight would accentuate his chiselled features.
“Thanks for finding time—” Gunna began, but Hallur waved her words away.
“I’m often here on a Sunday morning when it’s quiet. How can I help you?” he asked with a show of suavity.
“I expect you probably have an idea already. I’m working on the investigation into the death of Svanhildur Mjöll Sigurgeirsdóttir. You were acquainted with her?” Gunna said, going straight to the point.
“I, er, yes. I had an acquaintance with her,” Hallur mumbled, and Gunna looked at him enquiringly. He raised his chin to speak clearly and met her gaze. “I did know her and I am deeply saddened by her unfortunate death.”
Soundbite talk, Gunna thought, wondering if or when the mask would be allowed to slip.
“I’m trying to track her movements leading up to her death. When did you see her last?”
“On the fourth. Ten days ago,” he replied promptly.
“You’re sure?”
Hallur nodded. “I checked my diary when I knew you were on the way. I had an idea what you’d want to ask me about.”
“And how did she strike you then?”
“As usual,” Hallur said with a shrug. “Lively, happy, excited at the possibility of being back on TV.”
“I take it she wasn’t going to be hosting any heavyweight political debates?”
“That’s an unkind comment, officer. She had an offer from a production company to front a fashion show of some kind.”
“D’you know the name of the company?” Gunna asked, jotting down notes.
“I’m sorry. We didn’t tend to discuss business.”
“What did you discuss, if you don’t mind my asking?”
A rivulet of perspiration made its way from the parting in Hallur’s groomed dark hair and came to rest in the stubble on his jaw. “All sorts. But I wouldn’t say we were close friends.”
“What sort of friends were you? Lovers?” Gunna asked. A jolt of discomfort passed through Hallur’s shoulders.
“We were… good friends,” he admitted finally.
“It seems an unusual friendship,” Gunna said drily. “A wellknown politician with a high-profile wife and some strong opinions, and a rather shallow woman. From what I’ve been able to make out, you couldn’t have had a great deal in common.”
“Sport, mostly. I trained at Fit Club once or twice a week when I was a city councillor. It was as good a reason as any for getting out of the building for an hour when the office politics were making me lose the will to live.”
Getting somewhere at last, Gunna thought.
“So you met Svana at Fit Club?”
“That’s right. We’d bump into each other once or twice a week and chat over a coffee.”
“And you continued to ‘bump into each other’ and ‘chat’ even when you’d stopped training at her club?”
Hallur nodded. “Svana had a very wide circle of acquaintances. A very disparate group of people.”
“All men?” Gunna observed.
He nodded again. “I don’t believe she had many close female friends. You understand?”
It was Gunna’s turn to nod. “You still haven’t told me the nature of your relationship, other than that you chatted occasionally over a latte. I have to tell you that you have been identified as a regular visitor to Svana’s apartment.”
Gunna could see that Hallur’s composure was gradually failing.
“This isn’t on record,” she continued, “and you’re not sworn to tell the truth, although I wouldn’t expect anything else of someone in your position.”
“This goes no
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