Free Cold Steal by Quentin Bates Page A

could hear whispers and a chuckle from inside the house.
    ‘This way, please. We’ll go into the kitchen.’
    Gunna saw as she followed her along the corridor that Sunna María had brushed her hair and the dressing gown had been swapped for a silk kimono. Every door along the corridor had been shut and a slash of light from the kitchen at the end cut through the darkness.
    ‘I don’t even have coffee in the house,’ Sunna María apologized. ‘Jóhann drinks coffee in the mornings but I don’t.’
    ‘That’s all right,’ Gunna said, placing her folder on the table and opening it. ‘You knew Vilhelm Thorleifsson?’
    ‘Of course. We’ve known him for years.’
    ‘We?’
    ‘My husband and I.’
    ‘I take it that’s not him in the other room? So can I ask where your husband is?’
    ‘Germany, as far as I know. But he might have gone somewhere sunnier for a while. We lead pretty independent lives these days.’
    ‘It hasn’t been released to the press yet. Vilhelm Thorleifsson was murdered three nights ago.’
    ‘That was Villi they were talking about on the news? Shit. I had no idea he was even in Iceland.’
    Gunna studied Sunna María’s face as she chewed her lip and fidgeted with her hands. She stood up and walked around the room nervously and sat down again. ‘What happened? Can you tell me?’
    ‘All I can say right now it that there was nothing accidental about it. You knew him well? I’m looking for anyone who might have held a grudge against him, anyone he may have pissed off enough to want to kill him.’
    Sunna María cupped her chin in her hand. ‘There’s no shortage of people he owes money to. I mean,’ she said in a sudden show of confusion. ‘How? Who did this?’
    ‘We don’t know. It’s under investigation and we don’t have many details yet. You knew him socially or through work?’ Gunna asked, although she already knew the answer.
    ‘I was at college with him. Villi, me and my husband, we used to own a company together. Several companies, in fact.’
    Sunna María’s lips puckered in a worried line.
    ‘Including Sólfell Investment?’ Gunna asked.
    ‘That’s one of them. It was wound up a few years ago.’
    ‘I understand it was bankrupt, wasn’t it?’
    ‘Well, yes.’ Sunna María shrugged and her mouth curled downwards as she shook her head dismissively.
    ‘It’s beside the point, anyway. We are looking at the very real possibility that there’s a connection with you and your husband, and you might be in danger.’
    ‘You think so?’ She said with a theatrical gasp. ‘Here in Iceland? Come on.’
    ‘I’m completely serious. It’s not something we can rule out. I’d advise you not to stay here alone, and I’d go so far as to advise you not to stay here at all.’
    ‘Can’t I get police protection if you think I’m in danger?’
    Gunna wanted to smile at the suggestion. ‘Right now, no. We simply don’t have the manpower available. It’s something we’ll be discussing tomorrow when we have more details.’
    ‘Was Villi murdered at that chalet he keeps in the country?’
    ‘So I understand. You don’t seem surprised?’
    ‘The dirty devil. He used it as a hideaway so he could entertain his girlfriends. His wife was furious when she found out about it.’
    ‘I’m not exactly surprised. Had he owned the place for long?’
    ‘Five or six years. Something like that. He had a share in a web design company. The company bought the chalet for team-building weekends, things like that. When it went out of business, I suppose he must have been able to hang on to it.’
    Gunna nodded and shuffled the papers in her folder. ‘Where can I find your husband?’
    ‘Like I said, Germany. He was at a conference and then he was going somewhere else after that. I’m not sure where. I don’t try and keep track of his travels these days.’
    ‘You have a phone number?’
    Sunna María stood up and opened a drawer. ‘Plenty of them,’ she said, handing Gunna a