Far North - Michael Ridpath [15]
Well, it turned out that she couldn’t. So after a couple of months of fruitless search she presented herself to Dísa, the woman who ran the bakery. Dísa was kind but firm. There were no vacancies. It was only then that the truth hit Harpa. In the kreppa there were no jobs for someone like Harpa. None.
She tried everywhere; it was only at the end of June that Dísa eventually called her and said that a vacancy was opening up and Harpa could work for them. It was a good job: the people were friendly and it provided some flexibility for her to spend time with Markús. Her parents looked after their grandson in the early morning, and took him to the nursery. And she earned some money.
Not nearly enough to make the mortgage payments though.
She thought again about Óskar’s death. And Gabríel Örn. The familiar anxiety wriggled in her stomach. She stopped. Faced the breeze coming in from the sea. Took some deep breaths. And wept.
Björn. She needed to see Björn. He was always up early, looking for work on a fishing boat. She pulled out her phone and dialled his number.
He answered quickly. ‘Hi, Harpa, how are you?’
‘Not good.’ She could hear the sound of engines and waves in the background. Sometimes he could get reception on his mobile when he was out at sea. ‘Are you fishing?’
‘Just on our way out. What’s up?’
‘Did you see the news. About Óskar Gunnarsson?’
‘The banker? Yes. Did you know him?’
‘A bit.’
‘Wasn’t he one of the bastards who fired you?’
‘I suppose so, yes. But…’
‘But what?’
Harpa gulped. ‘But it just brings the whole Gabríel Örn thing back.’
‘Yeah.’ Björn’s voice was sympathetic. ‘Yeah. I can see that.’
‘Björn? I hate to ask you this, but can you come down to Reykjavík?’
‘That’s going to be a bit difficult. We’ll be back in harbour tonight, but I’m going out again for a couple of days tomorrow afternoon. Maybe on Sunday?’
‘Any chance you could come late tonight? I really need to see you.’ It was two and a half hours from Grundarfjördur, although Björn could do it considerably faster on his motorbike. Seltjarnarnes was still a long drive after a full day’s fishing.
‘Yes,’ Björn said. ‘Yes. I’ll be there. Late. But I’ll be there.’
‘Thank you, Björn.’ She could feel the tears coming again. ‘I really need you. You are the only one I can speak to about this.’
‘Hey, Harpa, I understand. Believe me, I understand. I’ll see you tonight. I’ll give you a call when I’m on my way.’
‘I love you,’ said Harpa.
‘I love you too.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘GOOD MORNING, MAGNÚS.’
Baldur’s tone was icy as he welcomed Magnus into his office. Two other detectives, Árni and Vigdís Audarsdóttir were already waiting.
It had proved remarkably easy for Magnus to get assigned to the case. The biggest problem had been summoning up the courage to call Chief Superintendent Thorkell back.
Thorkell had been businesslike on the phone, although he did start off the conversation with a dig. ‘Ah, Magnús, you took longer than I had been led to believe.’
‘Look, I’m sorry, Chief Superintendent,’ Magnus began. ‘You see I dropped the phone and—’
‘I want you on the Óskar Gunnarsson case,’ Thorkell interrupted.
‘Good,’ said Magnus.
‘That was what you were calling about, wasn’t it?’
‘Er, yes. Yes.’
‘OK. Be in Baldur’s office downtown at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. He will be expecting you. I’ll square it with the police college director.’
‘Very good. Thank you.’
Thorkell hung up, but Magnus heard the beginnings of a guffaw just before the line went dead. Somehow Magnus thought that Thorkell would not keep his earlier eavesdropping confidential.
Oh, well. Magnus glanced at Árni. No smirk yet: he hadn’t heard. Vigdís, the other detective, was much too professional to betray gossip. And he would soon find out whether Baldur knew.
‘A little tired this morning, are