Cold Comfort

Högni nodded. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Helgi ignored the question and carried on. “And the same weapon you used on your sister in her flat?”

“No!”

This time Högni’s hands smacked hard on the table and he half rose from his seat.

“I never hurt Svana!” he yelled, his face going an even deeper shade of red, and the officer by the door took a step closer, ready to intervene.

“We have witnesses who have stated they saw the two of you having a serious argument outside Fit Club a few days before her death.”

“That was different!”

“Sit down,” Helgi instructed in a calm voice, but Högni continued to rap at the table with his fists and seemed ready to jump from his chair, unable to stay still.

“Sit down, please, Högni,” Gunna said quietly, speaking for the first time and looking squarely into his eyes. Högni gradually became less agitated and sank back into the chair as the officer at the door and the lawyer both visibly relaxed.

“I didn’t know it was you,” Högni mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Gunna asked.

“I didn’t know it was you there talking to that bastard Jónas Valur,” he repeated. “Otherwise I’d never have …” His voice tailed off as the lower half of his face disappeared into his chest and fat tears rolled down his cheeks. “I never hurt Svana. I just found her there and she wouldn’t wake up.”

Helgi and Gunna walked to the canteen and sat in silence in the deserted room over mugs that steamed in front of them.

“That was an ordeal, wasn’t it?” Helgi said eventually, breaking the silence.

“Right enough.”

“D’you think he did his sister in?”

Gunna shook her head. “No.”

“So who was it? Gulli Ólafs, maybe? I have to admit I can’t understand where these people get the energy for all that sex. That Svana must have been like a machine,” Helgi said appreciatively.

“Not Gulli Ólafs. He didn’t have enough of a motive. Svana would really have been more use to him alive. I’ll bet you any money he was the one on her tail. We’ll see what the search at his home and office turn up. If there’s a phone with a number that ties up with the SMS messages that Svana, Bjarki and anyone else had been receiving, then we have him bang to rights,” Gunna said with a yawn.

“So who was it? It could have been any of the Svana Syndicate apart from Bjartmar.”

“We’ll see,” Gunna said and pulled herself upright. “Will you carry on with Högni? I have to go over to the hospital.”

The same doctor who had attended to Gunna’s bruises a few days earlier was on duty.

“Basically the man’s had a nervous breakdown,” he said laconically, stretching his legs out in front of him during what was clearly a long-awaited opportunity to sit down. “It’s a combination of stress, acute anxiety and depression. He needs some long-term recuperation and that’s not going to happen here, I’m afraid.”

“No?”

“We don’t have the resources these days. Endless cutbacks being pushed through right now. You’re a public servant. Surely you’re seeing all this as well?”

“Hell, yes. There’s a block on recruitment unless it’s absolutely essential, and even then you have to fight tooth and nail. As for equipment, it’s a nightmare. Anyway, Bjarki Steinsson. What’s his condition?”

“Physically he’s as fine as a non-smoking middle-aged man who takes minimal exercise is likely to be. Mentally it’s hard to say, and I’m not a specialist.”

“I really need to speak to him.”

The doctor looked pensive and wrinkled his nose doubtfully. “I’d prefer it if he could be left in peace to recuperate for a few days.”

“This isn’t something trivial, I’m afraid. This is a murder case. Two people dead and another victim in here as well.”

“Good grief, who’s that?” the doctor asked with a sharp intake of breath.

“Hallur Hallbjörnsson.”

“What? The MP who tried to commit suicide?”

“That’s him, only it seems it wasn’t suicide and I need Bjarki Steinsson to shed some light on it.”

The doctor tapped the top of the cluttered coffee table. “All right, but I think it would be best if I could sit in. I’ll have to call a halt if he gets overstressed.”

The corridors were quiet, and music played softly somewhere distant as they walked towards Bjarki’s room.

“His wife’s been with him,” the doctor said. “She’s been there practically since he was brought in.”

“And I don’t suppose she’s helping much towards his recovery.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“She’s not the most pleasant of people,” Gunna said as the doctor knocked and eased the door open.

“Bjarki, a visitor for you,” he said, a kindly bedside manner clicking into place automatically.

“Who is it?” Gunna heard Kristrún’s frosty voice ask. “The police again,” she said in a flat tone, answering her own question as she caught sight of Gunna.

“Hello, Bjarki,” Gunna said gently. “Feeling any better? I need a quiet chat if you don’t mind.”

“I really think-” Kristrún began.

“If you’d like to leave us for a quarter of an hour, I’d appreciate it,” Gunna said firmly.

“I don’t think-”

“Fifteen minutes will be enough.”

Kristrún stalked from the room and Bjarki looked gratefully up at Gunna from the deep chair where he sat swathed in a blanket.