Summerchill by Quentin Bates

the last few days, placed the order and stripped the plastic covering from the first of the two doors. The office was a double arrangement, with a larger office with a window onto the showroom and a smaller one further in, hardly more than a cupboard, Logi thought, just large enough for a couple of chairs and a small desk.
    The pizzas appeared sooner than he expected and they sat down on crates to munch their way through them.
    ‘Decent food again tomorrow,’ Marek mumbled. ‘No more pizza for me until I come back in October.’
    ‘You are coming back, then?’
    ‘Yeah, I think so. Unless my cousin gets me a job in Germany.’
    ‘Is that likely?’
    Marek shook his head. ‘Too many immigrants there already.’
    ‘Same as here, you mean?’ Tadeusz laughed. ‘Immigrants like us? What do you think, Logi? You don’t have a problem with all these foreigners?’
    ‘As long as they don’t take all our women, I don’t give a shit,’ he said through a mouthful of pizza.
    ‘Why so thick walls?’ Marek mused, nodding at the office.
    ‘Search me,’ Logi said. ‘You know, the customer gets what the customer wants and I’m not going to ask any questions as long as they pay up.’
    ‘And this one already has. We could do with more like that.’
    ‘You go back to Pétur’s job at farmhouse next week?’ Marek asked.
    ‘Yep. While you’re on the beach, we’ll be working up country again.’
    ‘You have spoken to Pétur?’ Tadeusz asked.
    ‘Had a text from him this morning. He wants us to start there Monday or Tuesday, depends if the plasterers finish today.’
    ‘They work Saturday?’ Tadeusz asked.
    ‘So he says. And if we can get all this finished today, ahead of schedule, then we can have a day off tomorrow,’ Logi said, dropping a pizza crust back in the box. ‘So shall we continue?’
    Helgi was wondering whether or not to call an ambulance when the girl came round to find him holding her hand and looking grave. It had only been a matter of seconds, but it felt like an age.
    ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, and immediately felt foolish for asking such a pointless question.
    ‘I think so,’ she said.
    ‘Shall I help you up?’
    Awkwardly, he held her hand as she struggled to her feet and sat heavily on a kitchen chair that threatened to give way beneath her.
    ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘Could you get me some water, please?’
    Helgi ran water into a glass and she held it with both hands to drink. As he was standing by the sink, he poured water into the coffee filter and its warm aroma filled the room.
    ‘OK now? You want to lie down?’
    Signý rested her head in her hands on the table as Helgi poured more hot water onto the coffee. She took deep breaths and looked up when he put a mug of coffee in front of her. He retrieved the milk carton from the floor and put it on the table.
    Just as well it didn’t burst,’ Signý said and smiled weakly as Helgi tore off the corner to pour milk for himself.
    ‘I’m sorry about that. I really didn’t mean to give you a shock.’
    ‘That’s all right. PMS, I expect,’ she said and Helgi felt suddenly embarrassed.
    ‘Well.’ He coughed. ‘I was going to ask you about Stefán Ingason.’
    Suddenly she was hostile, ‘I don’t want any charges. It was an accident.’
    ‘That’s up to you. As far as I’m concerned, whatever happened last year is old news and Stefán has got away with it, which goes against the grain.’
    ‘So why are you here?’
    ‘As I said, I’m investigating why a man called Axel Rútur Karlsson has vanished. He and Stefán are business partners. When your incident occurred, was it just Stefán who, er . . . visited you?’
    Signý sipped the coffee, still supporting herself with her elbows on the table.
    ‘It was just him.’
    ‘He didn’t have anyone with him?’
    ‘I . . . er. I don’t know,’ Signý said. ‘I’ve almost blanked the whole thing out. I try not to think about it.’
    Helgi leaned back and so