Cold Comfort

Helgi jogged along the road, keeping the dark figure in sight as it flitted from the glare of one street light to the next. Suddenly it disappeared, and Helgi set off down the slope, trying not to let his footfalls crunch too much on the rubble underfoot. He caught a glimpse of the bulky figure turning a corner ahead of him and realized that he would hardly be able to keep up without making more noise and risking alerting the man to his presence, when the sound of a door clicking shut stopped him in his tracks. He concentrated on the direction the sound came from and pointed himself towards it, emerging into the next street of empty houses made up of terraces of six. Every one was dark and empty, the first street of a new development.

Feeling uncomfortably conspicuous, he walked along the street as if he had a perfect right to and was simply taking a short cut. At the far end of the second set of six blank-eyed houses, a narrow ribbon of light glimmered faintly past one edge of a badly fitted garage door.

So, Ommi. That’s where you’re keeping yourself, he congratulated himself. I think you might be getting a visit in the morning.

Jón stumbled and leaned against the wall. His head was swimming. He had always been a thirsty man, but his love of a good drink was something he had easily suppressed during the years when he had worked hard and had a happy home life.

That had all changed now, and he felt his thirst clawing at him more often, whispering to him that a drink would help and that the day would pass more easily with a sharpener. With no more contract work to be had, he found himself relying on word-of-mouth jobs paid in cash to keep himself in funds. Friends of friends kept his phone number pinned to a board somewhere, just in case the dishwasher developed a leak or something went wrong with the heating.

He was enjoying it in some ways. For years he had meticulously kept records and rarely did black work other than for friends. Now, with the taxman and the child support people all chasing him, he had found a pleasurable release in ignoring them all. In any case, with no home to go to any more, it would take a while before their letters started reaching him again.

Slumped against a shop front, Jón lifted the half-bottle from his pocket and spun the cap, which flew off and tinkled as it hit the pavement. He cursed briefly and decided that as the bottle now didn’t have a cap, he’d just have to drink it all.

“All right, are you?”

He turned to see a pair of police officers in uniform looking down at him.

“Yeah. I’m doing OK.”

“On your way home, are you, mate?” the youngish policewoman asked kindly, handing him the bottle cap while her older, larger, male colleague surveyed a party of revellers clattering along on the other side of the street.

Jón nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to get my head down now,” he slurred. “Far to go, is it?”

“S’just up there.”

He waved a hand vaguely uphill and tried manfully to get to his feet.

The male police officer frowned down at him, still keeping an eye on the other side of the street.

“Where do you live?” the policewoman asked, squatting on her haunches to talk to him.

“Dunno,” Jón admitted. “It’s up there, big green house in Sölvagata. Top floor. It’s my little brother’s place. He’s a poof,” he added, and then wondered why he’d said it.

“All right, mate. Look, if you can stand up and walk as far as the next corner without falling over, I haven’t seen anything. All right?” the policewoman said in the same friendly tone, extending a hand to help him up.

Tears came unbidden to Jón’s eyes and coursed silently down the red stubble on his cheeks as he pulled hard on the woman’s hand and found himself upright.

“G’bless you, darling,” he muttered, weaving from one side of the pavement to the other as he made his way uphill.

“Job done,” the policeman said appreciatively to his colleague. “And no paperwork.”

Wednesday 17th

Helgi’s delight couldn’t be concealed.

“And what are you so damn cheerful about this morning?” Gunna demanded.

“Found where Long Ommi’s hiding away.”

“Really? Well done. The sooner we can get the bastard back to the nick, the better for all of us. Spill the beans, then. How did you find him?”

Helgi beamed. “Easy. I got a patrol to knock on Eygló’s front door, asking if anyone had noticed a joyrider in a stolen car belting around the area. The back door opened as soon as the patrol rang the doorbell, and all I had to do was follow him.”

Gunna nodded appreciatively. “Nice work. So where is he?”

“You know that new district in Gardabær, just above the Smárinn sports hall? All those new houses?”

“Yup. I drive past it every day.”

“He’s in one of those. The whole place is empty, not a single one’s been sold yet and it’s like a ghost town. The place he’s camped out in is Hátúnsbraut 21 and I think he’s using the garage to live in as it doesn’t have any windows, so nobody looks in and no light gets out-or it wouldn’t if the garage door hadn’t been put in crooked.”