further?”
“Unless it leads to material evidence that requires further investigation.”
Hallur’s shoulders dropped. “We were occasional lovers. I knew there were others and it didn’t bother her that I’m married. It was just physical … We’d meet up every couple of weeks and … y’know …” His voice tailed off as if he were a schoolboy caught with a pocketful of contraband.
“Always at her apartment?”
“Pretty much. We had a weekend once, in Copenhagen. But it wasn’t comfortable. There are so many Icelanders there that I was terrified of being spotted. This is confidential, isn’t it? It would destroy my marriage if this got out.”
Gunna bit back a caustic reply. “It’s between ourselves, as I said, unless this leads to material evidence that we need to pursue further. However, you mentioned that there were others?”
“Yes. Of course. I couldn’t expect her not to see other men. Svana was … how shall I put it? She liked to experiment.”
“We have people already identified as being Svana’s acquaintances in the same way that you were. But if you could provide names, it would help. As I said, we are making every effort to track down a killer, but it doesn’t help when much of the victim’s life was either right in the public gaze or else hidden completely.”
Hallur’s head bobbed in agreement and his trademark boyish smile began to reappear. “I know that Svana had several friendships. But I don’t have any names and I never asked.”
“In that case, I’ll leave you alone. For the moment, at least,” Gunna said, rising from the chair. Hallur was on his feet instantly and stepped around the desk with his hand held out. “I’d like to thank you for being discreet,” he breathed with a flash of the television smile.
“Anyway, thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch if we need to speak to you again.”
“Of course, please call if you need anything.”
He stood holding Gunna’s hand in his for longer than a usual handshake would warrant. “You know, officer. Would you be free for lunch sometime? I’d like to know more about the way the police work, from the inside, so to speak. Law and order is an issue that I have a deep interest in.”
Gunna extricated her fingers from Hallur’s soft but insistent grip. “Thank you. But that would hardly be appropriate as long as you’re a potential material witness, I’m afraid.”
“Maybe when the case is closed, then?”
“Possibly. Thanks for your time.”
Gunna clattered down the narrow wooden staircase from Hallur’s office. Outside, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“The cheeky randy bastard,” she muttered to herself, striding past Hotel Borg and toying with the thought of going inside to use the bathroom and wash the hand that Hallur had shaken.
T HE AIR TASTED slightly stale and the flat no longer felt as if anyone lived there. The kitchen floor where Svana Geirs had twitched as she died in a widening pool of her own blood was scrubbed clean, as if the flat’s occupant had simply moved out. Gunna went from the kitchen to the living room, frowning as she wondered what she was actually looking for. The place was tidy and Svana Geirs’ belongings were all still where they belonged. Eiríkur and the technical team had taken only a few items that they felt needed to be fingerprinted or checked at the laboratory.
In the blue and pink bedroom the huge down quilt had been carefully folded into a square and placed on a corner of the mattress, while the sheets and duvet cover had been taken away to be checked. She slid back the door of the wardrobe that filled an entire wall and ran a hand over the expensive fabrics of the dresses and coats on hangers, wondering how many of these had ever actually been worn.
She went through the hangers one by one, checking the pockets of all the jackets and coats for anything that might have been left, but finding nothing. At the far end, behind a couple of colourful summer
“Unless it leads to material evidence that requires further investigation.”
Hallur’s shoulders dropped. “We were occasional lovers. I knew there were others and it didn’t bother her that I’m married. It was just physical … We’d meet up every couple of weeks and … y’know …” His voice tailed off as if he were a schoolboy caught with a pocketful of contraband.
“Always at her apartment?”
“Pretty much. We had a weekend once, in Copenhagen. But it wasn’t comfortable. There are so many Icelanders there that I was terrified of being spotted. This is confidential, isn’t it? It would destroy my marriage if this got out.”
Gunna bit back a caustic reply. “It’s between ourselves, as I said, unless this leads to material evidence that we need to pursue further. However, you mentioned that there were others?”
“Yes. Of course. I couldn’t expect her not to see other men. Svana was … how shall I put it? She liked to experiment.”
“We have people already identified as being Svana’s acquaintances in the same way that you were. But if you could provide names, it would help. As I said, we are making every effort to track down a killer, but it doesn’t help when much of the victim’s life was either right in the public gaze or else hidden completely.”
Hallur’s head bobbed in agreement and his trademark boyish smile began to reappear. “I know that Svana had several friendships. But I don’t have any names and I never asked.”
“In that case, I’ll leave you alone. For the moment, at least,” Gunna said, rising from the chair. Hallur was on his feet instantly and stepped around the desk with his hand held out. “I’d like to thank you for being discreet,” he breathed with a flash of the television smile.
“Anyway, thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch if we need to speak to you again.”
“Of course, please call if you need anything.”
He stood holding Gunna’s hand in his for longer than a usual handshake would warrant. “You know, officer. Would you be free for lunch sometime? I’d like to know more about the way the police work, from the inside, so to speak. Law and order is an issue that I have a deep interest in.”
Gunna extricated her fingers from Hallur’s soft but insistent grip. “Thank you. But that would hardly be appropriate as long as you’re a potential material witness, I’m afraid.”
“Maybe when the case is closed, then?”
“Possibly. Thanks for your time.”
Gunna clattered down the narrow wooden staircase from Hallur’s office. Outside, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“The cheeky randy bastard,” she muttered to herself, striding past Hotel Borg and toying with the thought of going inside to use the bathroom and wash the hand that Hallur had shaken.
T HE AIR TASTED slightly stale and the flat no longer felt as if anyone lived there. The kitchen floor where Svana Geirs had twitched as she died in a widening pool of her own blood was scrubbed clean, as if the flat’s occupant had simply moved out. Gunna went from the kitchen to the living room, frowning as she wondered what she was actually looking for. The place was tidy and Svana Geirs’ belongings were all still where they belonged. Eiríkur and the technical team had taken only a few items that they felt needed to be fingerprinted or checked at the laboratory.
In the blue and pink bedroom the huge down quilt had been carefully folded into a square and placed on a corner of the mattress, while the sheets and duvet cover had been taken away to be checked. She slid back the door of the wardrobe that filled an entire wall and ran a hand over the expensive fabrics of the dresses and coats on hangers, wondering how many of these had ever actually been worn.
She went through the hangers one by one, checking the pockets of all the jackets and coats for anything that might have been left, but finding nothing. At the far end, behind a couple of colourful summer
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