Thin Ice: An Inspector Gunna Mystery (Gunnhildur Mystery Book 5) (10 page)

‘You got any ID?’

After having checked his warrant card, she let him in, leading him past a living room in which five toddlers were sat in front of a DVD.

‘Not all yours, are they?’

‘Hell, no. Two of them are mine and the rest are my neighbours’. This is the Strandvangur childcare co-operative at the moment. We all take turns so we can do a few mornings’ work every week. You want a coffee?’

‘The co-operative works at weekends as well?’

‘Oh, yes. Half of us work in shops and hotels, and these days shops open every day of the week and you don’t turn down a weekend shift if you want to stay in work.’ She handed Eiríkur a mug. ‘So what can I do for you? My mum said I might hear from you.’

‘Tell me about Árni Sigurvinsson. Your stepfather, right?’

‘Yeah, sort of. He appeared on the scene when I was seven or eight. That’s when I guess he and my mum got together, so he’s been about, on and off, for as long as I remember.’

‘I gather he and your mother had parted company not long ago? I spoke to her yesterday and she was pretty upset.’

‘More upset than she should be,’ she snorted.

‘Bogga—’

Her voice skipped from harsh disdain to concern as a small boy looked up at her with big eyes.

‘Yes, sweetheart? What’s the problem, Hannes?’

‘Can I have a biscuit? I’m hungry.’

‘Not now, darling. I need to talk to this gentleman for a little while and then I’ll give everyone a drink and a biscuit. All right?’

‘All right,’ he said doubtfully, as if concerned that he was being fobbed off with the bad end of a deal.

‘Go on, Hannes. Go and watch Donald Duck with the others. I’ll call you in ten minutes.’ She looked up as the boy ran back to the living room and the crashes and bangs coming from the television.

‘Árni. What was I saying?’

‘That your mother needn’t be too upset?’

‘He was a decent enough guy most of the time. If he’d got his head down and just worked for a living, everything would probably have been fine, but he was always screwing around with little scams here and there, like a kid, really.’

‘How so?’

‘Árni’s friends were always his downfall. If he’d kept clear of those deadbeats, he’d have been all right. But this last year or so things started to get worse.’

Eiríkur sipped his coffee and nodded, confident that the story would unfold, hoping it would happen before the small boy returned.

‘So what happened?’

‘He used to work at a garage up on Hellnahraun, but they had less work after the Crash so he was laid off and he started doing taxi work all the time instead of just occasionally. I don’t tell Mum everything I hear because it would only upset her more.’ She opened the window next to the kitchen table and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke outside. ‘Árni had been doing work for Alli the Cornershop and Össi Óskars.’

‘Ah. There’s a familiar name.’

She nodded and puffed. ‘Isn’t it just? And you didn’t hear any of this from me and I won’t go to court. It’s too . . . you know.’

‘That’s unfortunate,’ Eiríkur said. ‘But I can understand. I’m not making notes, as you can see.’

‘Everyone knows who Alli is and what he does. He sells dope and he’s been supplying girls as well. I reckon Mum knew about that and that’s what made her finally move out.’

‘Because Árni was doing the deliveries?’

‘Exactly. Árni was on the rank every evening as usual, and he’d do a few fares, but after about ten every night he’d be doing deliveries for Alli. Mostly bags of white stuff and driving young women to punters. He has a couple of them living in Hafnarfjördur and they seem to rotate every few weeks. They go back to wherever he gets them from and then a couple of fresh ones take their places.’

‘How do you know all this?’

Borghildur twisted her face in distaste.

‘Because one of them was here. She rented the spare room for a while last year. She was a sweet enough girl, but very young, and it was heartbreaking to think what she was having to do every night. If she had to do it, I don’t know. After two months she moved on and Árni asked if I could put another one up, but I said I needed the room for someone else.’

‘Yes, yes, Tinna Lind worked here.’

The sign on the travel agent’s desk proclaimed that Sigvaldi Tómas Hauksson was a senior travel adviser, and the heavy beard that Gunna guessed was intended to make him look like an experienced explorer contrasted with his salmon-pink shirt. The sight of Gunna’s identification clearly took him by surprise.

‘What’s the matter? Has she done something?’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘Well, there was a little unpleasantness when she left here,’ he said reluctantly.

‘Go on,’ Gunna prodded. ‘How long ago was this?’

‘She left here about a year and a half ago. The middle of last year, I think it was.’

‘How long had she worked here?’

‘Two years, on and off. She was studying as well, or so she said, so I guess she wanted to work around university.’

‘And she was good at her job?’

‘Very good,’ he said ruefully. ‘She could sell sand to Arabia. I was sorry to see her go.’

‘So tell me what happened.’

Sigvaldi sat back and Gunna could see him running things over in his mind.

‘We run competitions every few months, normally on Facebook; we get people to like or share our page and one lucky person who shares the page wins a trip somewhere. Normally it’s something cheap, nothing fantastic. But there was a trip to Egypt that we put on there that time . . . He fell silent.

‘And? What happened?’

He sighed.

‘It was a trip for two, four days in Cairo and four days on the Red Sea coast, flights, transfers, hotels and full board for two. Tinna Lind rigged it. She made sure one of her friends won the trip, and guess which friend was invited along with her?’

‘Ah, I see.’

‘The boss was furious. But by then there wasn’t much we could do about it without a whole load of ill-feeling and a stack of bad publicity, so eventually we let it go. Tinna Lind got her eight days in the sun, and when she came back she’d been replaced.’

Össur looked worried, Magni thought, slumped in a chair and gnawing at his fingernails.

‘Össi, we need to sort something out here,’ Magni said. Össur ignored him and stared into the distance.

Magni poured himself coffee into a mug and sat down opposite him.

‘Sweet on that hippie chick, aren’t you?’ Össur sneered.

‘She’s all right. What business is it of yours?’

‘It’s my business while we’re stuck here.’

‘If you say so. Look, Össi, what the fuck’s going on? Who was the old bastard you robbed?’

‘You’re better off not knowing, believe me.’

‘Come on, don’t give me that.’

Össur grinned a humourless smile that showed his damaged teeth. ‘That was Alli the Cornershop.’

‘Him? The famous one?’

‘The very one, in person.’

‘Why’s he called that?’

‘You saw the place he lives in, didn’t you?’ Össur asked. ‘That weird little house? Years ago it really was a corner shop with a flat upstairs. Now it’s still a sort of corner shop, except not just anyone can walk in and go shopping there. Alli’s particular about his clientele and he likes customers to call in advance.’

‘So I guess there are people out there who won’t be all that happy with you?’

‘Too right. And they won’t be happy with you either.’

‘Fair enough,’ Magni said. ‘So what do you want to do about this? Are you planning on staying in this place until the search dies down, or do you reckon your friends are going to come and find you here? Come on, tell me what the fuck’s going on, will you? I know you’ve got a stack of cash, and a chunk of it’s mine, don’t forget.’

‘It’s yours when we’re clear. Payment when the job’s done. You’re the handyman, not the brains.’

‘If you say so. What fantastic scheme has the brains come up with to get us out of here? It won’t be long before someone comes to check on the place.’

Össur gnawed at a fingernail. ‘I’m wondering if we can risk a week or so here,’ he said finally. ‘Alli will be going crazy for the next few days, but I don’t think he’ll search for long. He has other stuff to deal with and he’ll be concentrating on business.’

‘If you want to stay here a week, then there’s stuff we’re going to need.’

‘Like what?’

‘Food, to start with,’ Magni said. ‘And you’ll be out of smokes sooner or later.’

A nerve twitched under Össur’s eye. Magni could hear the click of the Baikal’s safety catch deep in his pocket.

‘All right, then, smartarse. Let’s have your ideas.’

‘I can get the Explorer to a petrol station and fill the tank, so it’s ready for when we need it, stock up on supplies, smokes for you and get back here.’

Össur glared at him in suspicion. ‘It’s out of fuel, isn’t it?’

‘I can deal with that.’

‘How?’

‘Never you mind. But I can get it to a petrol pump.’

‘So what’s to stop you just disappearing into the beyond, leaving me here to starve with the hippie chick and that sour-faced old bitch?’

‘How much cash do you have hidden away upstairs?’ Magni asked. ‘Come on, how much did you lift off that dealer?’

‘About two hundred thousand.’

‘Euros.’

‘Euros. Used notes, fifties and hundreds.’

‘So I guess I have about a hundred thousand reasons not to disappear, wouldn’t you say?’

Össur’s eyes bulged. He opened his mouth and closed it again. ‘Fifty,’ he said finally.

‘That’s about eight million krónur, am I right?’

‘It’s a damned good payday for an afternoon’s work, I’d say.’

‘But it’s more than an afternoon’s work now, isn’t it?’

‘What the fuck? All you did was stand there for five minutes.’

‘Yeah, but I also broke that big bastard’s nose and knocked his teeth out for him, I’ve spent three days so far hanging out up here in the arsehole of beyond with you, and there’s an angry gangster in Reykjavík who wants my balls on a plate, along with yours, so I reckon that adds up to something close to a fifty-fifty split.’

Össur glared and chewed a nail.

‘So I’m wondering if I need to be on the way to Spain for a few years like you.’

‘Who says I’m coming back?’

Magni shrugged. ‘Speaks for itself, doesn’t it? But if we’re going to be here for longer than a few more days, we need some supplies to keep us going. Whatever happens, we’re going to need fuel in the tank.’

‘I still don’t trust you not to come back.’

‘It’s up to you. But if I wanted to walk away, I could do it any time.’

‘What?’

Magni leaned forward and placed his folded arms on the table in front of him. ‘Look, Össi, you thought you were getting shit-for-brains hired muscle, which is all I thought the job needed. But I’m no idiot. If I wanted to I could have had Erna’s Explorer down the road yesterday, instead of going to the trouble of putting it inside and going through all this shit with you now.’

Össur quailed at Magni’s frown. ‘All right. Go on, then. If you think you can do it. When? Now?’ he asked. ‘I might consider adjusting your percentage once we’re clear.’

‘Yeah, right. Let’s leave it until it starts to get dark, shall we? No point in drawing attention to ourselves. But I’ll need some cash.’

Össur laughed for the first time. ‘Don’t think you’re going to spend a handful of euros in a country petrol station without anyone noticing.’

‘Krónur, obviously.’

‘I don’t have any cash.’

‘Or a card?’

‘Don’t be stupid. I deal in cash.’

‘Well, my card’s maxed out until next week, so I guess we need to persuade the lady upstairs to part with her security numbers. So maybe you had better be a bit nicer to her. An apology might be in order.’

Alli the Cornershop rarely felt nervous, but the robbery the other day had left him feeling vulnerable, as well as a lot poorer than he wanted to be. It didn’t help that Baldvin, who was supposed to be there to keep nutjobs like Össi Óskars out of his hair when their presence wasn’t required, was out of the picture while some wealthy dentist was making himself even more wealthy trying to patch up the mess that Össur’s tame gorilla had made of Baldvin’s teeth.

‘A shame about your friend Árni the other day,’ Rafn commiserated.

Alli shrugged. ‘It’s a dangerous habit, smoking in bed.’

The young man never failed to make even Alli the Cornershop’s blood run a little colder. The impassive expression and chilled blue eyes were unnerving enough, but Rafn had a reputation for brains as well as ruthlessness. Alli hated having to involve a bunch like the Undertakers, who were not only his competition but also people who would gladly take every shred of his business if they thought they could.

‘What’s the problem, Alli?’

‘It’s a problem with someone who’s been making a nuisance of himself. It’s a job I’d like to contract out rather than deal with myself.’

‘Why?’ Rafn’s gaze remained completely impassive as he took stock of Alli. ‘I’d have thought you’d want to keep something like that in-house?’

The words ‘something like that’ made Alli shudder as he wondered how much of his business was common knowledge.

‘Logistics and discretion,’ he said smoothly. ‘It calls for someone who isn’t going to be traced back to me, and if there’s no trail of footprints, it won’t lead back to you either.’

‘You’re not thinking of the law here, are you?’ Rafn asked, and Alli saw the faintest glimmer of sardonic amusement at the corner of the young man’s mouth.

‘I don’t have your manpower,’ Alli said.

‘The famous little black book doesn’t have all the right contacts in it?’

‘Not this time.’

‘What’s the problem and what are you after?’

Alli shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t much like going out, and he certainly didn’t like this gloomy cavern hung with motorcycle memorabilia that the Undertakers described as their world headquarters. This wasn’t his style. Old-school, he preferred to keep things quiet and operate from his own place, but felt that he would have to accept that times were changing and so was the business.