Frozen Assets

‘You think it’s suspicious, not just an unfortunate accident?’

‘Of course I do! His blood alcohol content was so high that the man could probably hardly walk, let alone get from a bar on Laugarvegur to Hvalvík without some help. I understand that Einar Eyjólfur wasn’t a habitual drinker at all — quite the opposite.’

‘Of course this matter warrants further investigation, but it isn’t a murder inquiry until there’s evidence of foul play. There’ll be an inquest, but unless there’s evidence to the contrary, the verdict will certainly be death by misadventure.’

‘It stinks. There’s just so much that needs to be explained.’

‘Well, I suppose you’d better do your best. But I’m concerned that this could be a waste of your time. Find out what you can in the next week or so, and then we’ll see. Hm?’

Gunna knew that Vilhjálmur was a man who played everything by the book and would sooner cut off a hand than break a rule. She desperately wanted to ask why he was so unconcerned about Einar Eyjólfur’s death, but restrained herself.

‘I could do with some help on this one. CID are too busy with narcotics as it is. Can I have an officer for a week to help me out with the leg work?’

Vilhjálmur lifted his steepled hands to bring the fingertips in line with his prominent nose.

‘We are overstretched as it is and I don’t have a single spare officer at my disposal, at least not now that Snorri Hilmarsson has been transferred to the Hvalvík station,’ he said pointedly. ‘However, I had in fact anticipated your request and have already discussed this. The city force will be working with you on this case and Sævaldur Bogason will be assisting you.’

Gunna groaned inwardly. ‘Bloody hell. The man’s like a bull in a china shop.’

‘Sævaldur is an experienced and effective officer who gets results,’ Vilhjálmur said coldly.

‘Fair enough,’ Gunna sighed. ‘I’ll get over there and talk to him.’

‘That would be advisable,’ Vilhjálmur said, picking up the old-fashioned fountain pen from his desk, his attention already on the top report in a pile, indicating that the meeting was at an end.

‘Do you mind if I ask some background questions?’ Skúli asked timidly.

‘Fire away, young man. If there’s anything I don’t want to tell you, you’ll find out.’

Skúli sipped his Coke. They were sitting at one of the few small tables at a truckstop at the top of the heath halfway between Hvalvík and the handful of small communities to the east. Rain from a sudden shower pelted down outside from clouds as black as inky fingerprints on the western sky and formed rivers that flowed down the truckstop’s windows.

‘How does the station at Hvalvík run?’

‘It’s not a main police station, so it’s staffed during the day. Normally there’re three of us: me, Haddi the old guy and Snorri the new boy. We belong to Keflavík, so out of hours any police services have to come from there — in theory. In reality the three of us are in and around Hvalvík most of the time. Then we have the rural areas we have to visit on occasions, like today.’

‘So you do a nine-to-five day?’

‘It doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid. We run watches outside station hours so one of us is always on call all the time, so you can be at work even if you’re asleep at home. I like to keep work and personal life separate as far as is possible in a little place like this, but a lot of the time it’s just impossible.’

‘How do you mean?’ Skúli asked.

‘Well, in Reykjavík or even Akureyri, you can change out of uniform and not be a copper any more. You can’t do that here. Everyone knows you’re the police, whether you’re in uniform or mowing your lawn.’

‘So it really is a full-time job?’

‘Absolutely. And that’s something that people can fail to grasp. Yesterday evening some kids were out playing behind the school and they found a mobile phone somebody had lost. They could have taken it home and given it to their parents to hand in at the station, or tried to find the owner, or just kept it, I suppose. But no, they knocked on my door and gave it to me, because they all know where Gunna the Cop lives and it didn’t occur to them that I might be off duty.’

‘Is this a problem for you?’

‘Not at all. It’s just part of being on the force in a rural area. It’s part of the package. But it’s the same in town to some extent. Your neighbours are always going to know you’re in the force and they might treat you slightly differently, or they might not.’

Skúli wrote hasty notes on his pad.

‘So. Young man. Tell me, why Hvalvík?’

‘Don’t know really. It was partly my idea, I suppose, and Reynir Óli said it might make a good feature.’

‘Who’s Reynir Óli?’

‘My editor. It was all set up through the police PR department. I asked the lady there for somewhere rural to go to, but not too far from the city, so she called back the next day and suggested Hvalvík or somewhere up in Snæfellsnes.’

‘So you chose Hvalvík.’

‘Yup. Closer to town,’ Skúli said, delicately wiping the detritus of hot dog from his chin. ‘And it sounded a bit more interesting as well,’ he added sheepishly.

‘Why?’