Chilled To The Bone Part 7

'I'm not sure I can-'

'Do it,' the man said in a cold, hard voice. 'I'm not going to play games. I know where you work. I know where you live. I know where your girlfriend lives. You get my drift? And if anyone else asks you about this s.h.i.t, you don't know anything.'

He stood up and picked up his toolbox. Magnus strained against the tape holding his wrists as the man made for the door. 'Can you . . . ?' he pleaded.

'Use your teeth, can't you?' the man replied with a smile that was even more unnerving than his scowl. 'It's only sticky tape. It'll give you something to do while you think through what we've been talking about.'

It took Gunna an hour to tease just part of the story out of Valeria in a session that came to a halt halfway through when she ordered Hakon out of the room. Without her overbearing husband present, Valeria had spoken more freely, but Gunna could see that much of what she said was hearsay and gossip. A hard worker, she had only been at the Gullfoss for a few months after its new owners, who owned several hotels in and around Reykjavik, had acquired it and set about modernizing its systems and standards. One of the city's older and more respected hotels, the new owners wanted to smarten it up discreetly and make it more efficient, but without losing the patina of age and respectability that their more trendy hotels lacked. Staff from the other hotels had been brought in to start making those changes. astros had been promoted to a supervisor's job when she was transferred from the Harbourside Hotel and chose Valeria as the hardest worker to go with her.

Gunna wanted to track down astros and push her harder than she had the previous day now that it had virtually been confirmed that Johannes Karlsson's experience had not been a one-off apart from its abrupt ending.

She stalked back into the lobby of Hotel Gullfoss at three, hoping that astros would still be around. There she found her and two men struggling to remove the bed from the room that Johannes Karlsson had died in the previous morning.

'It has to go,' she panted as she hauled the mattress out of the door. 'Policy. Someone kicks the bucket in the hotel, everything in that room has to go. Just as well it doesn't happen too often. I'll be right back.'

'It's just as well the forensic team had finished in there,' Gunna said, half to herself, as astros shuffled along the corridor with the mattress behind the two men carrying the bed's frame. There were a dozen black bin bags that Gunna presumed contained the curtains, bedding and anything else from the room, which now looked stripped. A shadow of clean red carpet marked out where the bed had been, and showed just how old the carpet was.

Gunna peered at her phone, found Albert's phone number and listened to it ring. To her surprise, it was answered after only a few buzzes.

'Albert.'

'Hae. Gunna. Any news? Sorry. I know it was only yesterday.'

'I thought you'd seen the directive,' Albert said caustically.

Suspicious, Gunna was immediately on her guard. 'Directive? Who from?'

'Upstairs. Due to budgetary restrictions forensics are now only able to attempt to perform miracles on even dates between one and five, weather permitting.'

'Sorry, Albert. Of course I saw that, but I didn't think it applied to you. Look, I'm in this room that you went over yesterday. It's been stripped so I hope you got everything you needed.'

'Yup, and I can tell you the name of the person who left that hair in the wash basin.'

Gunna was silent for a moment. 'Already? I thought getting DNA a.n.a.lysis results took weeks? Go on, then. Make my day.'

'Barbie.'

'Barbie?'

'That's right,' Albert laughed. 'Barbie. It's not real hair. It's fake, from a wig. Plastic hair.'

'I see.'

'So we reckon it's either Barbie or Elton John. Take your pick,' he said and paused. 'Are you a bit slow today, Gunna? A blonde moment or a senior moment?'

'Ach. Sorry, Albert. No, just a bit preoccupied. There's a lot going on at the moment.'

'I know. Knitting booties . . .'

'Get away with you,' Gunna retorted, and found that the reminder was not a welcome one. She stifled the urge to yell at Albert. 'Do you reckon you can get any more information from that hair, whatever it is?'

'I'm not sure. I'll have a stab at figuring out what the material is and you might be able to track down the supplier, that's a.s.suming it was bought in Iceland and not abroad.'

'Yeah, or through eBay or something. It could have come from anywhere.'

'I suppose so,' Albert said and she could hear the sound of voices behind him as his attention was no longer on what she was saying. 'There can't be that many wig suppliers in Iceland, surely? But that's your department, something for the detectives to detect.'

'That's as maybe. But we only perform miracles on special occasions these days, unlike you guys, who have to come up with them every other day.'

astros was nervous, frightened and reluctant to speak. Gunna pondered her words as she drove through the city centre, past the slipways and old whaling ships to where the square block of the Harbourside Hotel occupied what had once been a hardware shop with shipping companies on the floors above. The shipping companies had long ceased to exist, although a few of their crests were still displayed prominently high on the walls, and the hardware store had moved to shiny new premises in an industrial park on newly reclaimed land across the road.

Inside the building nothing remained of what had once been there, as if everything had been stripped from the sh.e.l.l of the building and replaced. Gunna guessed that this was roughly what had been done. A smooth tiled floor stretched into the distance to a reception desk where, not that many years earlier, there had been shelves of nails, shackles and cans of paint.

'I'm looking for the manager. Is he on duty today?' she asked, taking advantage of the empty lobby and bored receptionist.

'Uh. I think so.'

Gunna waited. 'Where can I find him, then?'

The receptionist shook herself from her reverie and tapped at the computer.

'He should be here.'

'Right here?'

'Yeah. He's in charge of reception today.'

'But he's not here?'

'No. Can I ask who wants him?'

The girl looked sharper having seen Gunna's ID and took a decision. 'You need to see the operations manager,' she said.

After some whispered phone calls, Gunna found herself in a plush office, an aromatic coffee at her elbow.

'Simon Arnarson,' the short man with a grey-streaked goatee and a twinkle in his eye introduced himself, extending a hand to be shaken. 'What can I do for you?'

'My name's Gunnhildur Gisladottir and I'm with the city CID. We have an investigation in progress and I'm looking for someone who may or may not be involved with the death of a guest at the Gullfoss. I take it you've heard about that?'

Simon nodded enthusiastically. 'Nothing official, but I heard from my colleagues. Word gets around fast. You know both hotels are owned by the same company? Part of the same group, not that we like to use that word too much these days.'

Gunna put the pictures on the desk, next to the rapidly cooling coffee. 'This is the person I'm looking for, and I have reason to believe there was a similar incident here as well yesterday?'

'I . . .' Simon hesitated. 'I was away yesterday and Magnus was the duty manager. He didn't leave anything in the notes about an incident,' he said, looking at the two pictures. 'Which one?' Simon asked, looking from the elegant blonde to the track-suited brunette, clearly perplexed.

'I'm working on the theory that they're the same person. So either version.'

'This was taken at the Gullfoss. I recognize the bar. So was this, on the back stairs.'

'You know the Gullfoss well, do you?'

'There aren't that many hotels in Reykjavik, not smart ones, whatever the tourist industry likes to tell people. There are a few of us who have worked in most of the city hotels at one time or another,' he said thoughtfully. 'I was the bar manager at the Gullfoss Hotel a few years ago and came here when this place was opened. Then the company that owns this and several other hotels bought the Gullfoss as well. We tend to swap staff between hotels when it's convenient, so I could find myself back there.'

'Why's that done? Any particular reason?'

'Not really. It's just easier to rotate staff to where they're needed rather than taking on new people temporarily and then having to lay them off. I like it because it keeps standards high across the group. Sorry,' he apologized with a wry smile. 'That 2007 word again.'

'Seen this person?' Gunna asked, hauling Simon back to the here and now.

'No. It's not a face I recall seeing, and now that you mention it, once you disregard the different hair, they do look similar,' he said, laying an envelope over the top of the head of the woman with the black wig. 'Do you want me to ask the staff?'

'Actually I wanted to speak to one of your staff. Magnus Johann Sigmarsson. His name came up in conversation with staff at the Gullfoss and I understood that he'd be working here today.'

Simon grimaced. 'He's not here, unfortunately.'

'Any idea why?'

'Well, let's say he's a decent enough member of staff when he's here and a pleasant young man . . .'

'But?'

'But he's not punctual. He likes to sleep,' he said with a return of that wry smile. 'He should have been here at twelve. He's not here and instead of trying to get hold of him, I asked someone else to take his shift. So if he shows up at three, which is quite possible, he'll be told he's not working today after all and he'll be given his first written warning.'

'All right. In that case, you have his address, phone number and so forth?'

Simon hesitated. 'I'm not supposed to give anyone outside the company personal details, you understand.'

'It's up to you. I'll track him down anyway. Tell me where he lives and it just saves me an hour or so of enquiries elsewhere.'

Simon clicked and tapped at his computer, and wrote on a sheet of headed notepaper. 'It's in Hafnarfjordur. He's only lived there a couple of weeks, so I may have saved you more than an hour's enquiries,' he said. 'Is it only Magnus you wanted to talk to?'

'To start with,' Gunna said, and Simon hid a rapid grimace. 'I expect I'll need to speak to a few more of your staff, but not today.'

'We're more than happy to help with enquiries, but of course we'd prefer them to be as discreet as possible. The last thing any hotel needs is its reputation damaged, and that can happen very easily.'

'Not a problem. Kicking down doors isn't exactly my style,' Gunna a.s.sured him. 'Not unless it's absolutely necessary.'

Gunna hammered at Magnus Sigmarsson's door, and it remained resolutely locked and silent. It was on the third floor of a fairly old block of flats that had seen better days. There was no lift, and while there were buzzers by the outside door at ground level, there was no intercom and the door had been wedged open. Gunna peered the wrong way through the peephole in the door, but could see only the blank walls of a shadowy interior distorted through the lens. She could sense that the flat was deserted.

Not wanting to leave empty-handed, she knocked smartly on the door of the flat next door, from which the smell of frying onions and the sound of a radio indicated that it was definitely occupied.

'Good day, I'm a police officer,' Gunna began as the door opened a crack and a suspicious face peered out.

'No more trouble, please,' a voice inside pleaded in a thick accent. 'You here for the boy again?'

'I don't know which boy you have in mind, but it's your neighbour I'm enquiring about,' she said and could sense the relief from the far side of the door as it opened and an olive-skinned woman surveyed her.

'You have . . . ?' She asked, miming showing an identification card. Gunna opened her wallet for the woman to check. She stared at it for some time and nodded, apparently satisfied.

'Your neighbour, Magnus. Have you seen him today?'

'No, not seen him.'

'When did you last see him? Was it long ago?'

'Two. Three days, maybe.'

'Do you know him well? Speak to him at all?'

The woman shook her head in a way that made it clear she had little time for her neighbour.

'He hasn't lived here long, has he? When did he move in?'

'Three weeks.'

'And you haven't seen him today or yesterday?'

'No. Not seen him.'

Gunna gave up and fished in her pocket for a card. 'This is important. You understand?' She asked, wondering if the woman was taking in everything she said. 'If you see him, can you give me a call? Thanks for your time and apologies for disturbing your meal.'

The woman took the card and nodded as Gunna turned to leave.

'Not see him today. But we hear him,' she said suddenly.

'So he was there today?'

'This morning. Walls are this thin,' she said, holding up a hand with a minuscule gap between her thumb and forefinger. 'We hear plenty. Too much,' she announced with evident disapproval.

'What did you hear and when was this?'

'Ten. Ten thirty. He have friend there. In the bath.'

'They were in the bath together?'

'I don't know. Maybe. Noise from bathroom.'

'Did this go on for long?'

'I close the door. Don't want to hear.' The disgust in her voice was overwhelming and Gunna understood why there had been no neighbourly contact. 'I hear the door bang. Half hour, maybe. Then nothing. Quiet.'

'I see,' Gunna said thoughtfully. 'All right, thanks for your time,' she repeated. 'But please give me a call if you see him come back, won't you?'

Joel Ingi found it impossible to concentrate during the afternoon; he found himself gazing blankly at the screen of his PC several times, with his hands idle on the desk in front of him. Mar looked in on him a couple of times without saying anything and carried on towards the printer.

In the middle of the day his mobile hummed discreetly and he squinted at the picture on the screen, where an image of Agnes looked back at him with that stern expression he rather liked.

'Hae, darling.'