{"product_id":"cold-comfort-isbn-9781616952037","title":"Cold Comfort","description":"Officer Gunnhildur, recently promoted from her post in rural Iceland to Reykjavík’s Serious Crime Unit, is tasked with hunting down escaped convict Long Ommi, who has embarked on a spree of violent score-settling in and around the city. Meanwhile, she’s also investigating the murder of a fitness guru in her own city-center apartment. As Gunna delves into the cases, she unearths some unwelcome secrets and influential friends shared by both guru and convict. Set in an Iceland plagued by an ongoing financial crisis, Gunna has to take stock of the whirlwind changes that have swept through the country—and the fact that at the highest levels of power, the system’s endemic corruption still leads, inevitably, to murder.\"Required reading for anyone who wants a sense of how calamitious Iceland's meltdown was—and what just might be in store for American police procedurals next.\"—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Cold Comfort introduces some very interesting characters and develops the setting and stories of Gunna's environment in positive ways, leading me to look forward to the next Gunnhildur book with anticipation.” —International Noir Fiction \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eFrozen Assets\u003c\/i\u003e:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Excellent debut.... Bates does a fine job with both Gunna and her town, her acerbic boss and an online blogger who keeps us abreast of events in Icelandic media and politics.”—\u003ci\u003eToronto Globe and Mail\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[A] crackling fiction debut ... palpable authenticity.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003c\/i\u003eIn Gunna Gísladóttir, Quentin Bates has created a character who appeals both on professional and personal levels.”—\u003ci\u003eExaminer.com\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The author has used the financial disarray of Iceland quite successfully in the plotting of this book. Money is power and power is so often the root of crime, and so it is in Cold Comfort…. Gunna is a tough as nails, take no hostages type cop. She throws herself into each investigation pushing the subject in the interview room until she gets what she wants.\" —Bestsellersworld.com, Mysteries Galore\u003c\/p\u003eQuentin Bates lived in Iceland for ten years before moving back to the UK in 1990, where he became a full-time journalist at a commercial fishing magazine. He and his wife frequently return to Iceland, where they have many friends, including several in the Reykjavík police.Prologue\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFreedom tasted good. To Long Ómar Magnússon freedom\u003cbr\u003etasted of hot dogs with ketchup and onions and washed down\u003cbr\u003ewith a cold can of malt. He thrust out long legs beneath the\u003cbr\u003ecafé’s plastic table and belched luxuriously. A woman with a\u003cbr\u003ebrood of children at the next table turned her head and\u003cbr\u003efrowned, but he met her stare and she thought better of saying\u003cbr\u003eanything.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Where are we going now, Ommi?” asked the tubby girl at\u003cbr\u003ehis side.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Town. Your place.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We can’t go there,” she wailed. “Mum’ll go mad if she sees\u003cbr\u003eyou. She knows you’re not out for another year.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Good behaviour, Selma. Tell her I’ve been a good boy and\u003cbr\u003enow I need some fun.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe drained the can of malt and stood up, shaking his legs.\u003cbr\u003e“Come on. There’s stuff to do.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSelma hauled herself to her feet and trotted towards the\u003cbr\u003edoor with Ommi towering beside her. As she squealed in surprise,\u003cbr\u003ethe woman with the brood of children again turned her\u003cbr\u003ehead in irritation, in time to see a broad hand stretched down\u003cbr\u003eto cup a buttock, half under Selma’s short skirt. The woman\u003cbr\u003eopened her mouth to speak, but before she had decided what\u003cbr\u003eto say, the pair had gone, with Selma’s squeaks receding into\u003cbr\u003ethe distance.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThursday 11th\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Laufey!”Gunna called for the second time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Laufey Oddbjörg Ragnarsdóttir! School!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe brushed her teeth hurriedly and examined herself critically\u003cbr\u003ein the mirror. Time for a haircut, she thought. Good\u003cbr\u003eteeth, strong nose, thick eyebrows . . . Cupping a hand to lift a\u003cbr\u003emouthful of water, she swirled and spat as Laufey appeared in\u003cbr\u003ethe mirror behind her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Finished, sweetheart. All yours.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLaufey nodded blearily and said nothing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGunna switched on the radio and waited for the kettle to\u003cbr\u003eboil while Channel 2’s morning talk show chattered in the\u003cbr\u003ebackground. Laufey shambled back to her room and shut the\u003cbr\u003edoor behind her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“If she’s gone back to bed. . .” Gunna muttered.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe kettle steamed itself to a climax and clicked off as\u003cbr\u003eGunna poured cereal into a bowl.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Laufey!” she called again. The bedroom door opened and\u003cbr\u003eLaufey appeared, dressed and holding her school bag. “You’ll\u003cbr\u003ehave to be a bit smarter getting up if you’re going to college in\u003cbr\u003eKeflavík next year.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Reykjanesbær, Mum. You shouldn’t call it Keflavík any\u003cbr\u003emore.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Keflagrad they call it at the station, there’s so many foreigners\u003cbr\u003ethere now.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Mum, that’s a bit racist, isn’t it?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGunna sighed. “Maybe, but it’s too early in the morning to\u003cbr\u003eargue about it. D’you want some breakfast? There’s cereal or\u003cbr\u003eskyr.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSuddenly the radio caught her attention and she turned the\u003cbr\u003evolume up quickly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A prisoner who absconded recently from Kvíabryggja open\u003cbr\u003eprison is still at large and is reported to have been seen in the\u003cbr\u003eReykjavík area. Police have issued a description of Ómar Magnússon,\u003cbr\u003ethirty-six years old. He’s one-ninety-nine in height,\u003cbr\u003eheavily built, with medium-length brown hair. He has heavily\u003cbr\u003etattooed forearms and was last seen dressed in jeans and a dark\u003cbr\u003ejacket. People are warned not to approach him, but to report\u003cbr\u003eany sighting to the police on . . .”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGunna spun the volume dial down to zero.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Friend of yours, Mum?” Laufey asked slyly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yup, most definitely one of mine right now. Actually, he’s\u003cbr\u003efrom here.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A criminal from Hvalvík? Really?”\u003cbr\u003e“He left Hvalvík before we moved here. Come on, I’ve got\u003cbr\u003eto go in ten minutes if you want a lift.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLaufey yawned. “It’s all right. I’ll walk.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It’s raining,” Gunna warned.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“S’all right. I’m meeting Finnur and we’ll walk together.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Fair enough. I should be back at five, unless something\u003cbr\u003ecrops up. I’ll let you know.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I might not go to college in Keflavík,” Laufey said suddenly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What?” Gunna said, startled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I might go to Hafnarfjördur instead. Their psychology\u003cbr\u003edepartment is better. If you’re driving every day now, you could\u003cbr\u003egive me a lift in the mornings, couldn’t you?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGunna thought for a moment of how early they would need\u003cbr\u003eto leave every morning to take Laufey to Hafnarfjördur and\u003cbr\u003estill get herself to work on time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Psychology? I thought you wanted to do business studies?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLaufey frowned. “Business studies is so 2007, just not cool\u003cbr\u003eany more.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We’ll see, sweetheart. We can talk it over tonight. See you\u003cbr\u003elater,” Gunna said, sweeping up car keys and her mobile phone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yah, Diddi. Remember this face, do you?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA look of alarm spread rapidly across the young man’s heavy\u003cbr\u003efeatures. “Hey, Ommi. Good to see you,” he said, his voice\u003cbr\u003ehollow. “Didn’t know you were out yet.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’m not. Not officially,” Ommi leered, dropping a long arm\u003cbr\u003eheavily across Diddi’s shoulders and sauntering with him along\u003cbr\u003ethe deserted street.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What? Did a runner? So it’s you they’re looking for, is it?\u003cbr\u003eBrilliant!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yeah. Where d’you live now, Diddi?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Just round there. Not far.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yeah, Diddi, but where?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDiddi quailed and blanched. “Just up the road.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOmmi used the hand draped across Diddi’s shoulders to haul\u003cbr\u003ehim round in a half-circle, slamming him face-first against a\u003cbr\u003eraw grey concrete wall, a fist planted squarely over his kidneys.\u003cbr\u003eDiddi wanted to yell for help, but knowing that nothing would\u003cbr\u003ebe forthcoming in a neighbourhood where people avoided\u003cbr\u003einvolving themselves in other folk’s problems, he steeled himself\u003cbr\u003eto stay quiet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What’s the matter, Ommi?” he warbled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOmmi leaned close. “Diddi, you let us down. You owe.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Wha-what’s that, Ommi?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You know.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith one hand Ommi gripped a handful of greasy hair,\u003cbr\u003eswinging with the other to land a smack to the side of Diddi’s\u003cbr\u003ehead that raised a whimper and left his victim in a daze. Ommi\u003cbr\u003eloved the satisfying smack of fist on flesh, the rush of adrenalin,\u003cbr\u003ethe flush of power. He’d missed this in prison.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You know,” he repeated. “You owe. Soon you’ll have to pay\u003cbr\u003eup. All debts will be honoured in full. Understood?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDiddi nodded. Blood was starting to seep from his right ear\u003cbr\u003eon to the shoulder of his denim jacket, and his head was\u003cbr\u003ebuzzing. “Yeah, I get it, whatever.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hope so. You haven’t seen me. Don’t know where I am.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I didn’t do it, Ommi.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“That’s what you say,” Ommi hissed, delivering a punch to\u003cbr\u003ethe kidneys that left Diddi unable to stand on his own feet.\u003cbr\u003eThe whole thing had taken no longer than a minute, and\u003cbr\u003ealready Ommi was nowhere to be seen. Cross-eyed with pain,\u003cbr\u003eDiddi wondered if Long Ómar Magnússon had really appeared\u003cbr\u003eand beaten him up in the broad light of morning. The ringing in\u003cbr\u003ehis ears and the taste of bile convinced him that it had been all\u003cbr\u003etoo real, as he threw up messily across the pavement. Across the\u003cbr\u003estreet, an overcoated gentleman in a peaked cap kept his eyes to\u003cbr\u003ethe front and his chin high, making sure that he saw nothing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe address was only a few hundred metres from the\u003cbr\u003epolice station at Hverfisgata and Gunna decided to go on foot.\u003cbr\u003eShe strode through the encroaching darkness of the windy afternoon\u003cbr\u003ewith Helgi loping at her side. There was already a patrol\u003cbr\u003ecar and an ambulance outside with lights flashing as they arrived\u003cbr\u003eat the stairwell of the block of modern flats and found a young\u003cbr\u003eofficer fending off interested people claiming to live there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Crime scene. No admittance,” he announced as they\u003cbr\u003epushed through.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Serious Crime Unit,” Gunna growled, watching the young\u003cbr\u003eman take a step back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Straight up. Fourth floor. The lift’s not working,” he said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHelgi eyed the stairs. “Four flights?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe young man nodded.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oh well.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHelgi set off up the steps with Gunna taking them two at a\u003cbr\u003etime behind him. As they reached the open door of the flat, he\u003cbr\u003ewas breathing hard.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This must be it?” he gasped, battling to keep the fight for\u003cbr\u003eair under control.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You want to pack in smoking, Helgi,” Gunna admonished,\u003cbr\u003estepping past him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnother young officer stood at the door, this time one who\u003cbr\u003erecognized Gunna and stood aside to let them in.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It’s not a pleasant sight,” he said dourly as Gunna snapped\u003cbr\u003eon surgical gloves and handed a pair to Helgi. She bent to pull\u003cbr\u003ecovers over her shoes and again handed a second pair to Helgi\u003cbr\u003eas he fiddled with the gloves.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn the corridor, a young woman in police uniform, her face\u003cbr\u003epale as the apartment’s ivory walls, stepped back from the\u003cbr\u003ekitchen door to let Gunna and Helgi through to where a paramedic\u003cbr\u003ehunched low with his back to them. Gunna went carefully\u003cbr\u003earound him and Helgi stayed in the doorway.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Are you all right, sweetheart?” he muttered to the young\u003cbr\u003epolicewoman, who merely nodded back, eyes fixed on the\u003cbr\u003eparamedic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Dead, I suppose?” Gunna asked, crouching next to the man\u003cbr\u003ein his green overalls as she surveyed the scene.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Well there’s not much reason for us to be here, if that’s\u003cbr\u003ewhat you mean,” he replied shortly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe body of a woman lay on the chequered tiles, arms\u003cbr\u003esplayed in front and legs crossed awkwardly. A mass of fair hair\u003cbr\u003espread around her and a pool of dark blood had seeped over the\u003cbr\u003efloor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Touched anything?” Gunna asked the paramedic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Checked for pulse, that’s it. Nothing’s been moved.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Good man. Not a chance that she fell and banged her\u003cbr\u003ehead, I suppose?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Not a hope,” the paramedic volunteered cheerfully. “Blunt\u003cbr\u003einstrument, this one.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGunna looked up at the faces in the doorway. “Helgi,\u003cbr\u003ewould you get everyone out and bring the technical boys in\u003cbr\u003ehere right away? This one definitely needs to be sealed up and\u003cbr\u003egone over before we do any snooping ourselves. Do we have\u003cbr\u003eany identification?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHelgi and the paramedic both stared back at her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You mean you don’t recognize her?” the paramedic asked.\u003cbr\u003eGunna took in the woman’s long, ample figure, dressed only\u003cbr\u003ein tracksuit bottoms and a white singlet. The taut skin\u003cbr\u003eemerging from the sleeveless top was tanned to the point she\u003cbr\u003ewould have described as being crispy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Something about her rings a bell, but I couldn’t say,” she\u003cbr\u003eadmitted finally.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“That’s Svana Geirs, that is. Was,” the paramedic said with\u003cbr\u003ea mournful shake of his head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ah, in that case you’d better make sure we don’t get any\u003cbr\u003eintrusion from the gentlemen of the press. And not a word, all\u003cbr\u003eright?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Of course.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe paramedic stood up and stretched. Gunna looked at\u003cbr\u003ethe woman’s face, half obscured by waves of hair. The skin at\u003cbr\u003ethe corners of the wide-open green eyes looked stretched,\u003cbr\u003eparchment-like, in a way Gunna felt would have been more\u003cbr\u003eusual in someone past retirement age. The abundant blonde\u003cbr\u003ehair was coarse and thick, and she wondered if its natural\u003cbr\u003ecolour had been seen in the last twenty years. She tried to\u003cbr\u003eestimate Svana Geirs’ age and put it at around thirty-five.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We’d better get ourselves out and leave the place to the\u003cbr\u003etechnical team. Are you off?” she asked the yawning paramedic.\u003cbr\u003e“As soon as the doc gets here to declare mortality,” he\u003cbr\u003ereplied, stepping back and carefully not touching walls or\u003cbr\u003eworktops. “So, is this your first celebrity?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sort of. I had a city councillor once. Heart attack jogging\u003cbr\u003eon the beach at Nautholtsv’k. Stone dead by the time we got\u003cbr\u003ethere. Shame about Svana, though,” he sighed. “I used to have\u003cbr\u003ea poster of her on my wall when I was a student.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGunna and Helgi left the technical team swarming\u003cbr\u003eover the flat and met on the first-floor landing to compare\u003cbr\u003enotes. As many uniformed officers as could be found had\u003cbr\u003ealready been dispatched to scour the area for anything that\u003cbr\u003ecould be a murder weapon, and to start the long process of\u003cbr\u003eknocking on doors.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Tell me about Svana Geirs, then,” she demanded. “The\u003cbr\u003ename’s familiar, but that’s it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Well we’ll have to do a bit of digging. I suppose she was\u003cbr\u003eone of those people who are famous for being famous, if you\u003cbr\u003eknow what I mean.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You mean she didn’t actually do anything?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“She was on telly for a while with a fitness show on Channel\u003cbr\u003e2. My first missus used to watch it, so that has to be five years\u003cbr\u003eago at least, doing these daft exercises in front of the box.\u003cbr\u003eNever did her any good. The show was less about keeping fit\u003cbr\u003ethan Svana’s tits bouncing up and down in a tight top. That’s\u003cbr\u003eabout it. She sort of disappeared from view after that, but she\u003cbr\u003estill pops up in the gossip mags.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“All right. So who wants to knock off a failed TV presenter?\u003cbr\u003eThere was some real force behind it, and that was a single blow\u003cbr\u003eas far as I could see,” Gunna said. She would dearly have liked\u003cbr\u003ea cigarette, but a promise is a promise, and Laufey would know\u003cbr\u003ethe second she walked in that Mum had been cheating.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Time of death?” Helgi asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Don’t know. Miss Cruz will give us an accurate idea later.\u003cbr\u003eIt’s getting on for six now, so I reckon this afternoon sometime.\u003cbr\u003eShe was still warm when we got here.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe police’s only forensic pathologist was on long-term\u003cbr\u003eleave and the post had been covered by a series of replacements\u003cbr\u003erecruited from overseas. The latest was a woman from Spain\u003cbr\u003ewith a double-barrelled surname who had replaced a tall\u003cbr\u003eIrishman and had instantly been christened Miss Cruz by her\u003cbr\u003enew colleagues.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Who raised the alarm?” Gunna continued.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The cleaner. Found the lift wasn’t working, climbed the\u003cbr\u003estairs and saw the front door was open.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Open? So whoever did this was out pretty quick without\u003cbr\u003ewaiting to cover their tracks,” Gunna said. “Did you check the\u003cbr\u003elift?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Jammed between the third and fourth floors. Been like that\u003cbr\u003efor a week, the maintenance man says.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Top flat. Nobody comes up here without a reason. What\u003cbr\u003eabout next door?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Nobody home. No sign of life.” Helgi frowned and rolled\u003cbr\u003ehis shoulders as if they ached. “Well, whoever lives there is\u003cbr\u003egoing to get a bit of a shock when he comes home from work.\u003cbr\u003eHow do you want to organize this, Gunna?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor a moment she wondered why he was asking her. Being\u003cbr\u003ein charge of a new investigation unit was a change that would\u003cbr\u003etake some getting used to after the years running the police\u003cbr\u003estation in rural Hvalvík, where weeks could pass with nothing\u003cbr\u003emore serious than a stolen bicycle. The offer of promotion and\u003cbr\u003ethe shift to the Reykjavík city force had come as a surprise, and\u003cbr\u003eworking as part of a larger set-up was already taking some getting\u003cbr\u003eused to. Although she had lived there in the past and\u003cbr\u003eknew the city intimately, Gunna felt vaguely uncomfortable in\u003cbr\u003eReykjavík. Much had changed during the years she had taken\u003cbr\u003eit easy in her coastal backwater. The city’s pace of life had\u003cbr\u003eaccelerated steadily for years until the crisis that saw the banks\u003cbr\u003enationalized and the country plunged into a recession stopped\u003cbr\u003eprogress dead in its tracks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe had moved into the Serious Crime Unit’s new office as\u003cbr\u003ethe protests outside Parliament were becoming steadily angrier,\u003cbr\u003ewatching her uniformed colleagues disconcerted at the public\u003cbr\u003efury they were on the receiving end of at demonstrations every\u003cbr\u003eweekend, while many of them felt a secret sympathy with the\u003cbr\u003eprotesters and their impotent rage.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGunna had flatly refused to move house from Hvalvík, and\u003cbr\u003ethe forty-minute drive was proving a challenge in the mornings,\u003cbr\u003ebut the journey home had become an oasis of valuable\u003cbr\u003ethinking time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Gunna?” Helgi asked again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Æi, sorry. Thinking hard for a moment. If you try and\u003cbr\u003efigure out what the lady’s movements were over the last couple\u003cbr\u003eof days, I’ll tackle the next of kin.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Fine by me. I’m still looking for Long Ommi as a priority\u003cbr\u003eas well, you know?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Fair enough. Eiríkur should be here in half an hour and\u003cbr\u003eyou’d better fill him in on all this so he can collect everything\u003cbr\u003ethat comes in from the knocking on doors. I’m sure the lad will\u003cbr\u003ehave some kind of theory he read in a book that’ll boil down\u003cbr\u003eto ordinary common sense. Pathology will tell us what they\u003cbr\u003ecan, but I reckon we’ve seen it already. Blunt instrument to the\u003cbr\u003ehead, single blow aimed to kill.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Any ideas?” Helgi asked hopefully.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I was about to ask you that,” Gunna sighed. “On the surface,\u003cbr\u003eit looks straightforward enough. When someone’s killed\u003cbr\u003elike this, it’s either a junkie who doesn’t know what he’s doing,\u003cbr\u003eor it’s money or anger. Svana Geirs must have pissed someone\u003cbr\u003eoff, or else she’d ripped someone off.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Jealousy?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Certainly a possibility. You’d better find out who she was\u003cbr\u003eshagging, in that case. I can’t imagine she lived like a nun. It’d\u003cbr\u003ebe handy to know what she did for a living. I doubt somehow\u003cbr\u003ethat a flat like this comes cheap.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’ll see what I can dig out by the morning. Be in early, will\u003cbr\u003eyou?” Helgi asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Nope. Bjössi in Keflavík asked me to stop by the hospital\u003cbr\u003ethere and look in on someone in the morning, a friend of your\u003cbr\u003echum Long Ommi, as it happens.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“All right. Give him my regards, will you? Bjössi, that is, not\u003cbr\u003eanyone who might be a friend of Long Ommi’s.”","brand":"Soho Crime","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304761479397,"sku":"NP9781616952037","price":16.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781616952037.jpg?v=1767723893","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/cold-comfort-isbn-9781616952037","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}