Frozen Assets

‘In that case, keep hold of him as long as you’re able. Gunnhildur, you have until Monday to give me a convincing reason why Sævaldur’s suspect shouldn’t be charged with the murder.’

10

Friday, 5 September

Gunna immersed herself in the national vehicle records and quickly came up with dozens of cars with JA in the number. She was able to eliminate the majority immediately, taking out all of the smaller cars that could not possibly be mistaken for a jeep, even on a dark night.

She worked through the remainder of the list. When Haddi appeared at her door with an expectant look on his face, he found her among a pile of paperwork with a pencil behind one ear and the phone firmly at the other.

He waited expectantly for her to finish speaking.

‘OK. No, not a problem. Thanks for your help,’ she said before putting a finger out to end the call, keeping the receiver in her hand.

‘Any joy?’

‘Not much,’ Gunna admitted. ‘A few possibles. Plenty eliminated.’

She replaced the receiver, leaned back and held up the long list in front of her.

‘There are more than two hundred cars with JA in the number. Around ninety of them are jeeps of some kind and I’ve eliminated all but a dozen or so. There’s a Toyota in Stokkseyri, haven’t reached the owner yet, four of Swiftcar’s rentals which are all BMWs, a few Toyotas and Fords in Reykjavík, even a couple of Hummers. That’s it so far.’

‘Still, it keeps you occupied.’

‘Just a bit. It’s not as if we don’t have enough to keep us out of trouble,’ she grumbled. ‘Anyway, what time is it?’

‘Gone five.’

‘Hell. I’d better be on my way. Laufey’ll be back from school in a minute and I ought to clean the place up and buy some food before she gets home.’

Haddi nodded sagely. ‘Y’know,’ he observed, ‘that’s the kind of thing I’d have expected Laufey to say if you’d been away, not the other way around.’

‘Come on, Haddi. I’m never going to win any perfect housewife prizes, am I?’

Haddi spluttered with what Gunna’s long experience told her was laughter. ‘God, no. Which reminds me, there was a bloke here this morning looking for you while you were over at Keflavík hobnobbing with the chiefs.’

Gunna straightened her stack of papers and placed them in the middle of her desk.

‘Who was that?’ she asked.

‘Haven’t a clue. Old bloke. Moustache. Said it was just a personal call and he’d drop in again later.’

‘Can’t have been important, then,’ Gunna said, squaring her cap. ‘Are you on duty tomorrow, or is it Snorri?’

‘Me tomorrow. Snorri’s off until Monday.’

Haddi waved and retreated as the phone began to ring, while Gunna debated whether or not to answer it, well knowing that she would.

‘Gunnhildur.’

‘Hi, sweetheart.’

At the sound of the familiar voice, she pushed the chair back and lifted her feet on to the upturned waste paper bin that had taken on a new role as a footrest. ‘Get stuffed, Bjössi.’

‘Come on, what kind of language is that?’

‘Bjössi, my dear friend, it’s the only language that you understand. Don’t forget that I’m a tough country girl from the westfjords and I’ve sorted out bigger and nastier men than you.’

Bjössi sighed.

‘You say the nicest things, Gunna.’

‘All part of the Hvalvík force’s service. Being rude to outsiders is what we do best. Now. What do you want?’

‘That blue jeep from the harbour at Sandeyri. Just as you thought, it’s the one that was reported missing.’

‘I knew that already, so what do you have that’s new?’

Bjössi continued, oblivious of Gunna’s interruption. ‘Owner, Rögnvaldur Jónsson, aged thirty-four, Eggertsgata eighty-seven, Akranes. Left it parked at the airport while he went to get pissed in Tenerife. Got off the plane with his straw donkey, and there it was, gone.’

‘Are you going to stop telling me stuff I already know?’

‘Probably not. Forensics have given it a going-over. There are a few dents that the owner couldn’t be sure about, says they might have been there before. Apart from that, no fingerprints. Nothing out of the ordinary apart from those binoculars you found. Good quality ones, the sort that serious bird-watchers use.’

‘Do you really think some twitcher stole a jeep to go bird-watching and then rolled it off the quay at Sandeyri?’

‘Haven’t a clue. We’re up to our ears in it here and I’m going to have to leave it with you. I’ll email you the report. All right?’

‘All right. What are you so busy with over there, if you’ve got better things to do than give us a hand?’

Bjössi groaned. ‘Don’t ask.’

‘Go on. What is it?’

‘The usual, trying to interrogate dodgy Eastern Europeans who don’t speak Icelandic and pretend they don’t speak English either.’

‘Fair enough. Rather you than me.’

‘You said it. See you tomorrow morning if you’re here for the briefing.’

‘Briefing? On a Saturday? Nobody’s told me.’

‘Vilhjálmur Traustason’s new efficiency review procedures. You’re better off out of it, believe me,’ Bjössi told her. ‘Bye, sweetheart.’