2012
Helgi’s detective novels had set their stamp on his office at the police station, the office that used to belong to Hulda.
He had even brought a small bookcase down from Akureyri and filled it with some of his favourite titles.
A few colleagues had remarked that his office had begun to resemble a library, but he chose to take this as praise.
After all, it was probably the effect he had been aiming for.
Now he could stay on later in the evening than he would have done otherwise, poring over complicated case files, and occasionally pick up a novel to help him switch off for a while.
He had come in on Saturday morning, bringing the next book from his pile to read during his breaks, if he had time. He’d started it several years ago and now meant to carry on from where he’d left off.
Cicely Disappears , the book was called, by Anthony Berkeley.
A lovely first edition, acquired somehow by his late father, with an attractive 1920s cover.
He was rather enjoying the story, which involved a séance plunged into pitch darkness, and, when the lights came on, the discovery that a girl called Cicely had vanished.
Helgi recalled reading that when the story was first serialized, the newspaper it appeared in had held a competition inviting readers to have a go at solving the mystery.
Agatha Christie was rumoured to have taken part, unsuccessfully.
In fact, none of those who responded had guessed the correct solution.
And now a famous Icelandic author had vanished.
Day three of the investigation had begun.
Helgi sighed.
His eyes strayed to the corner of the office.
There was Hulda’s box, the personal items that had belonged to the policewoman who had occupied this office before him. He had never met her – never managed to talk to her. Bizarrely, she seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth at around the same time as he had started his new job.
At first, there had been rumours hinting that she had taken her retirement hard, which was why she wasn’t responding to messages or phone calls.
But that theory was disproved as the days passed.
When nothing was heard from Hulda, her colleagues became concerned.
Eventually, a search was launched for her, but the problem was that no one had any idea where to look.
It was well known that she enjoyed hiking in the mountains – just like Elín – although all the indications were that Hulda mainly pursued this hobby through walking groups, rather than on her own.
However, the general assumption was that she must have gone for a solo hike, perhaps due to the strain she’d been under recently, and had lost her way or had an accident.
It was the most convenient explanation and made it possible to draw a line under her career in the police.
Helgi had attended her memorial service, despite never having met her.
It did strike him as odd, though, that Hulda should have been in the middle of an investigation when she went missing.
Although he hadn’t known her, judging by the way her colleagues talked about her, she had been utterly dedicated and exceptionally good at her job.
Would a person like that really have done a disappearing act – directly or indirectly – without finishing her investigation first, or at least formally handing it over to somebody else?
The case seemed to have been wide open, though there were some voices who insisted that Hulda had been on a wild-goose chase, digging around in a matter that had already been satisfactorily solved long before.
Helgi doubted it had been that simple. The two cases – Hulda’s disappearance and the investigation she had been working on – roused his interest, and although he already had more than enough to do, he made a mental note to come back to both later.
Out of curiosity, he had checked to see who Hulda had been talking to.
He’d also heard about the mistakes she’d made, but somehow he got the impression that she had known what she was doing.
He was careful to keep his inquiries under the radar, as no one had actively asked him to track down his predecessor, but the mystery continued to intrigue him.
So far, though, every avenue had led to a dead end.
There were no solid clues, either in relation to the death of the girl that Hulda had been investigating, or to the fate of Hulda herself.
Helgi had achieved one thing, though, which was to make contact with an older man Hulda had been involved with shortly before she went missing.
His name was Pétur, and they had talked briefly on the phone, but now – as Helgi contemplated Hulda’s box yet again – he decided that the time had come to go and meet this Pétur and hand over Hulda’s belongings.
He meant to fit this into his busy schedule at some point in the next few days, perhaps even this weekend.
There was no point putting it off endlessly.