Frozen Assets (23 page)

‘Of course,' Hardy replied smoothly.

‘You're not drinking?'

‘I don't drink. At least not alcohol.'

‘Drying out?'

‘No. I just don't drink.'

‘Everyone drinks. Unless they're drying out,' Erna said with finality.

Sigurjóna's name was called out and she lurched upright to walk falteringly towards the stage where a young man with a head as shiny as his suit was waiting for her and clapping.

‘What's the award for?' Hardy asked Erna, who had a hand on his shoulder again.

‘I don't fucking know. Best advert for decaffeinated yoghurt or something like that. Nobody goes away from here without a prize,' she yelled back at him over the storm of applause that greeted Sigurjóna's arrival on stage.

Sigurjóna grabbed the microphone ahead of the shiny-suited compère and launched into the impromptu speech that one of the office staff had carefully crafted for her that afternoon. The room quietened as she began, but the speech lasted a long time for something made up on the spur of the moment and the level of chatter rose steadily, moving gradually forward from the back tables.

‘What's your sister saying?' Hardy asked.

‘Just bullshit. She's thanking everybody she's ever met, including the postman, the girl she sat next to in primary school, her personal trainer, and her husband.'

‘Where is he tonight?'

‘Hell, I don't know where high-and-mighty Bjarni Jón is,' she snarled. Hardy was interested to see she disliked her brother-in-law and filed the information away for future reference.

‘Was he supposed to be here?'

‘You're sitting in his seat, honey,' Erna said, attention on Sigurjóna who was winding up her speech. ‘Oh, how sweet! She thanked me as well! Big sister!' she squawked in delight, reaching for a bottle from the middle of the table and upending it into her glass.

Sigurjóna tottered back with applause and whistles ringing in her ears, a black glass statuette of a pair of elongated praying hands under one arm and a wine bottle held by the neck in her other hand.

‘She's great, my big sister, isn't she?' Erna declared to Hardy in a voice that carried over the conversation around them. ‘Her tits are better, but at least mine are real.'

Hardy felt the phone buzz in his pocket and put a hand inside his jacket to take it out. He looked at the number displayed and stood up quickly with the phone flashing in his hand.

‘Excuse me just one minute,' he said quickly and marched towards the lobby.

‘Don't be long, honey! Bjarni Jón's not here and we girls need at least one man around!' Erna yelled after him.

The elegant statuette by a well-known artist had become a collection of slivers of black glass that shuffling feet had dispersed across the floor of the ballroom, providing a nightmare mess for the staff of the Gullfoss Hotel to clean up in the morning. With the ceremony long over and already forgotten, a few couples gyrated jerkily across the dance floor and groups of dazzling people, much the worse for wear, sat in alcoves around the edge, some on the point of passing out.

‘Where's my sister?' Sigurjóna demanded, shaking Jón Oddur by the lapel of his silver-grey suit. She took a long draw on the joint in her other hand as Jón Oddur's eyes opened blearily.

‘Dunno. She just went. Haven't seen her,' he slurred.

‘Where did she go? Was she alone?'

‘Don't know. She was dancing with that foreigner.'

‘Which one? There's plenty of foreigners here.'

‘Er. The tall guy. Y'know. Had a meeting with him today. Yesterday,' he corrected himself. ‘Hardy?' Sigurjóna sat down hard on the chair next to Jón Oddur and ground out the joint on the table top. ‘Did you get a room here?'

‘I booked four,' he said proudly.

‘Shit. My fucking sister,' she cursed. ‘Come on. Where's your room?'

29

Saturday, 27 September

‘Good morning.'

Erna opened one eye and lifted her head from the pillow, dropping it down again as sunlight filtering through gaps between the curtains pierced her eyeballs. She quickly screwed her eyes shut again.

‘Hi,' she mumbled.

‘Your head hurts?' Hardy inquired gently.

‘Yeah. Sleep more,' she mumbled.

Hardy nodded, swung his legs from the bed and padded from the room. Erna vaguely took in the sound of running water as she drifted back to sleep.

An hour later he returned to wake her, mugs of fragrant tea, two aspirins and slices of toast spread with honey on a tray that he balanced in one hand as he slid back into the bed alongside her.

‘Good morning again.'

‘And to you.'

‘Feeling better now?'

‘Yes, thanks.'

Hardy put the tray down on his lap and passed her one of the mugs.

‘My mother told me not to accept drinks from strange men.'

‘Maybe I'm not a strange man any more?'

Erna sipped and gulped down the two little white tablets.

‘What time did we get back here?' she asked.

‘Around two.'

‘An early night, then. What time is it now?'

‘Ten.'

‘Have a good time last night?' she asked, crunching toast over the tray to catch crumbs.

‘Of course. I take it you mean the ceremony, or do you mean the party afterwards?'

‘Was there a party afterwards?' Erna asked blankly.

‘The party that you and I had here.'

‘Oh, that.'

‘Both of them were pretty good.'

‘That's good.' Erna yawned, curling back beneath the covers and sending exploring fingers towards Hardy's thigh. ‘I need to get up but I'm too lazy. It's great to stay in bed for a change.'

‘When are you usually up?'

‘Never later than seven on normal days. Maybe eight on a weekend. Depends on the kids.'

‘How many do you have?'

‘Two.' Erna yawned again.

‘They're not here today?'

‘They're with their fathers for a change for a couple of weeks. One lives in Chicago, the other one's here in town.'

‘Peace and quiet then?'

‘For the moment. But I'll miss them soon, I expect. How about you? Children? Girlfriend? Wife, maybe?'

Hardy chuckled. Erna placed her head on his chest and could hear his laughter deep inside.

‘Nothing. Nobody. There's just me. A single man with no ties.'

‘Then there must be something wrong with you if no woman has snapped you up yet.'

The hair of his chest tickled her nose and she ran a hand through it.

‘I like this,' she said softly. ‘Icelandic men shave everything. They think it's sexy but some of us like a man who has some hair. It's more, y'know . . .' She struggled for the English word. ‘Like a cave man, you know what I mean?'

‘Primeval?'

‘I guess so. Hey, I have to shower. Do you want to fuck again before or after?'

***

Bára cupped the phone in her hand, pursing her lips in irritation. She shook her head as Gunna lifted a questioning eyebrow.

‘Yes, I am fully aware of that,' Bára continued. ‘And no, I didn't know that the PR Federation awards were held last night. Look, I'm sorry that your boss may have a hangover, but this is an important investigation into a serious matter . . .'

Bára paused and listened for a moment to a flood of complaint before she cut through the voice again. ‘Excuse me, but this is a police investigation. I need to speak to Sigurjóna Huldudóttir urgently. Now, are you going to tell me where I can find her?'

The voice chattered into Bára's phone and she lifted it up, shrugging her shoulders. She waited for it to go quiet before she continued.

‘Excuse me, I repeat, this is a police investigation. Look,' she said quickly, pre-empting the voice on the other end before it began to complain again. ‘You need to speak to my superior officer. Hold on, please.'

Bára covered the mouthpiece with her hand. ‘I can't get any sense out of this woman at all. She just yells at me that Sigurjóna's not in the office today, refuses to release her mobile number and then said something about harassment. Will you speak to her?'

Gunna stood up and walked around the desk. She picked up the handset, pressed the loudspeaker button and put the handset down, leaning forward to speak to the machine in the middle of the desk.

‘Who am I speaking to, please?' she asked as smoothly as she could.

‘This is Ósk Líndal, Sigurjóna's personal assistant,' a haughty voice crackled through the speaker in reply. ‘She's not here today and isn't contactable.'

‘Fine, now listen, Ósk. This is Gunnhildur Gísladóttir and I'm at the Keflavík police department,' she said, her voice hardening gradually. ‘I understand that my colleague has been trying to reach Sigurjóna Huldudóttir this morning without much success, which I also understand is due largely to a lack of cooperation on your part.'

‘Do you really think this is something so serious that it warrants my ignoring her explicit instructions to leave her alone?' the voice snarled back.

‘If it wasn't important, it could wait until Monday. But it is and it can't,' Gunna snapped back. ‘So, are you going to tell me where she can be reached, or better still, where she is right now, or is the wife of a government minister unwilling to cooperate in an investigation that carries the highest priority?'

‘Wait,' the voice replied submissively. They could hear papers being shuffled and a mobile phone beeping quietly.

‘Here it is,' Ósk Líndal snapped, and Gunna gestured to both Snorri and Bára to write the number down. ‘I suppose I may as well tell you that last night Sigurjóna stayed at the Gullfoss Hotel. I don't know her room number, but the company booked four rooms.'

‘Thank you. You've been a great help,' Gunna said, back to her smooth voice again.

‘Yeah. Well, if you need any other information, then don't call me,' the voice grated, with the phone banging down on to its rest at the other end as the last word spilled out.

‘Nice one, chief. That's the way to make friends,' Snorri said with a wide grin on his face that almost matched the one on Bára's.

Sigurjóna's head throbbed. Swathed in a voluptuous white dressing gown and with hair awry, she sat in a deep armchair in one of the Gullfoss Hotel's finest suites.

‘Do you know where all your staff are at the moment?' Gunna asked her gently as Jón Oddur, bare-chested and pink-faced, appeared from the bedroom with a handful of tablets and a glass of water which he put on the coffee table in front of Sigurjóna.

‘Of course not. I employ a human resources manager who does that.'

‘Ósk Líndal?'

‘That is one of Ósk's duties.'

Gunna opened the slim briefcase she had borrowed from Snorri and took out copies of the photos of HÃ¥rde that had come from the Swedish police. She placed a picture of a stubble-faced, younger-looking HÃ¥rde on the table.

‘Do you know this man?'

‘Should I?'

‘You tell me.'

‘Yes.'

‘Tell me about him.'

Sigurjóna frowned in irritation. ‘His name's Graham Hardy. He works for InterAlu as their site integrity consultant for the construction of the Hvalvík Lagoon plant.'

‘And if I were to tell you that he has convictions for assault and grievous bodily harm, what would your reaction be?' Gunna asked.

Sigurjóna's face was expressionless. ‘So? Our connections with InterAlu on a day-to-day basis are generally via Hardy and he's given us no cause for concern. He's very efficient, very well organized. What he may have done in the past isn't relevant. He does his job well and that's all that matters.'

‘Where is he now?'

‘Why do you want to know?'

‘All I can tell you is that it concerns an ongoing investigation and it isn't a trivial matter. Locating your Mr Hardy is a priority.'

Sigurjóna yawned and leaned back in the armchair. ‘Isn't there any coffee? Jón Oddur! Order coffee, will you?'

The young man put his head briefly round the door, nodded and bobbed quickly back to the bedroom.

‘I'd prefer it if this conversation could be kept confidential from your staff,' Gunna said acidly, emphasizing ‘staff'.

‘Close the door, then.'

Gunna nodded to Snorri, who walked over, gently shut the bedroom door and sat back down again on the plush sofa next to Bára.

‘Can you tell me about the work Hardy does?'

‘Why don't you ask him yourself?'

‘If I knew where to find him, I would. What does he do?'

‘I told you. He's in charge of security at the Hvalvík site on behalf of InterAlu and at the Hvalvík Lagoon site on ESC's behalf.'

‘Your company?'

‘So you read newspapers, inspector?'

‘Sergeant. When I have time,' Gunna replied. ‘I have to say, I was rather hoping that you would be more cooperative.'

‘Good God, you wake me up on a Saturday morning after an awards party and expect me to be cooperative?'

‘I would expect the wife of a minister to cooperate with a murder investigation.'

‘Murder? Who?'

There was a knock at the door and Gunna said nothing.

‘Shall I?' Snorri asked.

Sigurjóna nodded. Snorri opened the door and took a tray of cups and a silver thermos of coffee from a black-waistcoated waiter. He put it carefully on the table and sat back down on the sofa where Bára was taking notes.

‘You still haven't answered my question,' Gunna reminded Sigurjóna as she poured coffee for herself.

‘What question?'

‘Where's Hardy?'

‘I have no idea where he is. As you know, until a quarter of an hour ago, I was asleep. Anyway, you haven't answered my question either.'

‘You mean the one I expect you know perfectly well that I can't answer?'

‘Yeah. Who's been murdered?'

‘Like I said, I can't say anything about an ongoing investigation.'

‘It's that silly boy Einar Eyjólfur, I suppose. Look, he must have been drunk, got a lift with somebody and lost his way somehow. For such a smart guy, he was an idiot in some ways.'

‘I can't comment at the moment. But it's important that we speak to Hardy soon. Where's he living?'

‘Don't know.'

‘He's working for you and you don't know his address?'

‘Strictly speaking, he doesn't work for me. He's an employee of InterAlu and we purchase their services in some fields, some of which happen to be carried out by Mr Hardy.'

‘How about a phone number?'

‘I contact him when I need to at the compound in Hvalvík. Jón Oddur has the number.'

‘No mobile?'

‘Probably. But I don't have a number for him,' Sigurjóna lied.

‘I assume you must have a record of when Hardy has been in Iceland, in which case I must ask you to let me have a full list of his stays here.'

‘I'm not sure we would have that.' Sigurjóna yawned again. ‘You could ask Ósk. She might know.'

‘You're paying for this guy's services and you don't have a record of the work he has done for you? That hardly sounds plausible.'

Sigurjóna's face frosted over. ‘Are you accusing me of lying, sergeant?'

‘No,' Gunna replied sharply. ‘Merely a suspicion on my part that you might not be as helpful as you could be. Failure to cooperate with a police investigation is a crime in itself, you know.'

‘I am aware of that. If you want any information, you'd better call Ósk. Now, if that's all, I have calls to make this morning, including one to my lawyer.'

Gunna stifled the smile that leapt to her lips.

‘Give him my kindest regards, would you? We'll leave you to catch up on your sleep,' she said, noticing the bedroom door open a crack. She stood up and handed the keys of the Volvo to Snorri.

‘You drive this time,' she said to him and turned back to Sigurjóna. ‘Thank you for your time, and apologies for disturbing you at such an early hour of the morning.'

‘What do you think, chief?' Snorri asked as the lift swooped groundwards.

‘Bullshit from start to finish, I reckon.'

‘She knows where Hårde is and how to contact him. Body language. Every time she tells a lie, her face goes blank for a fraction of a second and then relaxes,' Bára said. ‘What next?'

‘Hell, I don't know. It's getting on for midday, so I'll buy you both lunch at the bus station. Then we'd better get back and see what's happening at the nerve centre. Then someone had better call that bloody woman again.'

‘The one who said not to call her if we needed to know anything?'

‘That's the one. And if she doesn't answer the phone, send someone to bang on her front door. But first we'd better find the manager of this place.'

Bára nodded to herself while it took Snorri a moment to catch on. Gunna extracted the Swedish police's photo of Hårde from the file and put it in Snorri's outstretched hand.

‘I'd like you two to go and chat to a few of the staff. Show them the pic and ask if they've seen him about. He could be under our noses in a suite of his own right here.'

‘Gotcha, chief,' Snorri grinned.

‘I'll go and do the same with the manager. Then it might be lunchtime.'

Sigurjóna cursed. She paced back and forth across the thick carpet of the suite with her phone at her ear. She swore again as the voicemail kicked in.

‘Hi, this is Erna's phone, I can't take your call right now, so just talk after the squawk. Bye!'

Sigurjóna stabbed her phone's red button to end the call and hit redial.

‘Jón Oddur!' she yelled as it began to ring, and his head appeared round the bedroom door. He stood expectantly as Sigurjóna listened to Erna's voicemail message again.