Cold Comfort

He nodded without raising his head. “Yes. I know. Look, officer. Nobody was hurt or harmed or did anything they were unwilling to do or was in any way coerced or forced. Everything in this arrangement was entirely consensual and amicable.”

“I can see that. But Svanhildur Mjöll was selling her company, which included sexual services. An offence has been committed by each of the participants. As I said, there is a less pleasant word for this kind of arrangement.”

A tiny spark of anger could be seen deep behind Bjarki Steinsson’s eyes.

“Officer, have you any clue what a loveless marriage is like?” he asked bitterly. “My wife … My wife and I have had nothing to say to each other for years. We live in the same house. A divorce would be a disaster financially, and for her it would be deeply uncomfortable in social terms. The circles she moves in …” He sighed. “Listen. We know and trust each other to that extent. I earn a considerable amount. My wife has a comfortable position based on that income. We each respect that the other has a private life. Understand?”

“An open marriage, sort of thing?”

“If you want to put it like that.”

“And have you made a habit of procuring services of this kind?”

“If you’re going to be offensive, I’d prefer it if this interview was recorded so that I have grounds for complaint,” the accountant snapped.

“I’d prefer it if you would just answer the bloody question,” Helgi replied with a new harsh note in his voice.

“Not … not recently.”

“During your relationship with Svanhildur Mjöll?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why ‘of course not’?”

“That was the agreement. No other partners, spouses excluded.”

“Do you think the others kept to this agreement?”

Bjarki Steinsson shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s not something we discussed. Possibly not.”

Helgi seemed satisfied with the answer and Gunna saw an air of defeat in the man’s reply.

“Now,” Helgi said. “When did you last see Svanhildur Mjöll?”

“On Thursday,” he whispered. “In the morning.”

Diddi sat crumpled between his lawyer, a young woman with a plump, friendly face, and a social worker huddled in a denim jacket.

“All right, Diddi? How are you?” Gunna asked, taking a seat opposite him.

“I’m OK,” Diddi replied, a dazed expression on his round face.

“You’re aware that everything is recorded in here and anything you say could be used in evidence in court?”

“I’d like to make it plain,” the plump young woman began, “I’d like to state, that my client has a history of mental illness.”

“Actually, I know Diddi of old.” Gunna smiled. “Isn’t that right, Diddi?”

“Yeah, Gunna.”

“So, for the record, you’re Kristbjörn Hrafnsson, you’re thirty-four years old and you’re on invalidity benefit. Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“Now, Diddi. Would you like to tell me about what happened to your face?”

The lawyer frowned but said nothing.

“I fell over,” Diddi said finally.

“If you say so. But how did you manage to fall over on both sides of your face at the same time?”

“Is this relevant?” the lawyer asked.

“If it wasn’t relevant, I wouldn’t be asking,” Gunna answered, glaring at her. “All right, Diddi. Your dad brought you into the station on Monday night. The branch of Kaupthing in Grafarvogur was robbed by a man with a knife that morning. Now, Diddi, it was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine. I just wanted you to confirm it, because there’s no doubt that it was you. You understand that?”

“Yeah,” Diddi answered. He appeared to be close to tears.

“What I really want to know is where you went after the robbery. How did you get back to town? You don’t drive and I’m sure you didn’t catch a bus, did you?”

Diddi sitting in silence, staring at the floor, reminded Gunna immediately of Bjarki Steinsson looking guiltily at the floor of his own office that afternoon.

“Come on, Diddi. You have to tell me, like you said you would. The truth, remember?”

“Promised I wouldn’t.”

“Who did you promise you wouldn’t tell? Was it Long Ommi?”

“No!’ Diddi squeaked. “No. I haven’t seen Ommi. It wasn’t Ommi!”

“Diddi, we’ve known each other for a long time. You remember how long? You remember when I hauled you out of the bus station that time those boys set fire to your coat? Remember that?”

Diddi nodded.

“And you remember when all that money was stolen from the kiosk on Sólgata? That wasn’t you, was it? But those guys said it was and I didn’t believe them. Remember that?”

Diddi nodded again, while the lawyer knitted her plucked eyebrows and pretended to understand what was happening. The social worker glanced at his watch.

“Now, Diddi, my friend,” Gunna said softly. “Don’t you think it’s about time you told me the truth?”

This time his features crumpled and tears flowed down his cheeks as he howled as if in pain, turning to the social worker with an imploring look on his face. Gunna sat impassively and looked over at Diddi as the volume of his howls increased.

“Can we stop? Please?” the social worker demanded. “He’s distressed enough as it is.”

Gunna nodded without taking her eyes off Diddi, who stared right back through his wails of anguish.