2012
Baldur Baldursson cut as distinguished a figure behind his desk at the law practice as he had at his seventieth-birthday party. His suit today was darker than the one he had worn the previous evening but looked as if it had been made by the same tailor.
‘It’s a pity you couldn’t stay longer yesterday,’ was Baldur’s opening comment, though it was fairly clear he didn’t mean it.
‘It was a splendid party. A belated happy birthday, by the way. I’m afraid I completely forgot to say it yesterday, in all the excitement.’
‘Thank you. Though all these birthdays tend to merge together by the time you’re my age.
The years pass so quickly. I didn’t actually want to make a big fuss about this one.
It was my wife who twisted my arm.’ Another lie, Helgi thought, smiling wryly to himself.
The lawyer had obviously been in his element at yesterday’s champagne reception.
Helgi took a seat as if he were a client, reflecting privately that he was glad he had never needed the services of a lawyer.
Even when he sold – and repurchased – his father’s bookshop, the contracts had been drawn up on the computer at home, without any specialist knowledge, but they had done the trick.
Helgi got straight to the point: ‘Have you had a chance to consult your colleagues?’
Baldur adjusted his glasses on his nose, then said: ‘Some of the partners weren’t at all happy about the idea; they wanted you to present a warrant.’
Helgi pictured a room full of older men; somehow he couldn’t see a woman being part of that gathering.
‘Whereas I myself recommended finding a middle way; trying to adopt a course that would satisfy everyone without involving a judge in the matter.’
‘I see.’
‘I proposed the following solution, which my partners eventually agreed to: that I should show you the will here in my office but that you wouldn’t be allowed to take it away with you. And it goes without saying that you would have to maintain complete discretion about its contents.’
Helgi deliberated. The offer was better than nothing, and he didn’t want to clash with a man who argued in court for a living.
‘That sounds like a good compromise for now. Thank you very much.’
‘Right, then. I have the document here.’
Baldur pushed a thin white cardboard folder across the desk, then leaned back in his chair.
Helgi drew the document from the folder and started reading.
The will was more than ten years old. It had been made in 2001.
He was expecting Orri to be named as Elín’s sole heir, and indeed his name was one of the first things he spotted. Ten million krónur were to go to her cousin Orri; a generous sum, though Helgi suspected that the author’s assets were considerably larger.
All her other assets…
All her other assets were to go to Kristín Unnur árnadóttir.
Helgi did a double-take. He read this sentence twice to be sure he hadn’t missed something.
Then he read the rest of the document to the end before raising his eyes to the lawyer.
‘Who is she? This Kristín?’
Baldur shrugged.
‘You know, Helgi, I haven’t the faintest idea.’
There was only one person in the national register with exactly the same name, a forty-six-year-old woman who, as far as Helgi could ascertain, worked as a radio presenter. Perhaps he should have recognized her name.
He took himself over to the Broadcasting Centre on Efstaleiti. It was getting on for 5 p.m., so he wasn’t sure he’d catch her, but it was worth a try. He preferred to talk to people face to face if possible, as expressions often gave away more than words.
The Broadcasting Centre had always held a certain charm for Helgi. As a kid he used to sit by the radio at home in Akureyri, listening with his parents to plays, talk shows and music programmes. In those days he knew the names of the radio presenters, including the newsreaders.
He went up to the older man sitting on reception.
‘Kristín Unnur árnadóttir – I was wondering if I could have a word with her?’
The man looked at the clock.
‘She’s, er, on air at the moment. Are you here as a guest on her afternoon programme?’
‘No, nothing like that. I’m from the police. I just need a very quick word with her.’
‘Oh, right, it’s like that, is it?’ The man couldn’t hide his curiosity. ‘I’ll see if I can find her. Would you like to come with me?’
Helgi followed him into the large inner space, thinking that this was where the enchantment was created. They passed one studio after another. Finally he was invited to take a seat on a sofa in front of one of them.
Shortly afterwards, a woman stepped out of the studio. She was tall with long blonde hair and large eyes. She looked vaguely familiar, he thought, though he couldn’t place her. Perhaps she was on television too.
‘Hi, I’m Kristín – did you want to talk to me? Are you from the police?’
She seemed a little worried, which was understandable. Receiving a visit from the police was never a comfortable experience.
‘Yes, I am. The name’s Helgi Reykdal. Could we have a brief chat?’ He glanced at the studio door, then back at her. ‘Do you have ten, fifteen minutes to spare?’
She shrugged.
‘Not really, not immediately. Would you be able to hang on a bit?’
He smiled, though for once he hadn’t thought to bring a book with him.
‘Sure, no problem.’
‘My programme finishes at six, but I can get away a little earlier. I’ll ask my colleague to cover the last quarter of an hour for me.’
The time passed quickly. Helgi fetched himself a coffee, cheekily using a mug labelled with the name of a well-known newsreader.
Kristín reappeared sooner than expected. This time she smiled at him, appearing more relaxed than she had been earlier. Perhaps she had concluded that his reason for wanting to talk to her couldn’t be that serious since he was happy to have a coffee and wait for her to finish.
She sat down on a sofa facing him.
‘So, what is it you want, Helgi?’ Her eyes narrowed, though her face was still friendly. He felt for a moment as if she were interviewing him for the radio.
‘I have to admit that I’m here on rather an unusual errand. Are you familiar with the author Elín S. Jónsdóttir?’
‘Aren’t we all?’
‘Have you ever met?’
‘Only once. We don’t know each other personally, I think I’m safe in saying. Why do you ask?’
Helgi drew a deep breath.
‘What I’m about to tell you should not be public knowledge. I hope you understand what I’m saying?’
‘Of course.’
‘No one’s heard from Elín for some time,’ Helgi said in a level voice. ‘And we’re all concerned for her well-being – the police, her publisher and her friends.’
‘Has she gone missing, is that it?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Dead?’
Helgi hesitated.
‘Impossible to tell at this stage.’
‘I see. What else would be required?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘For her to be declared dead if she doesn’t turn up?’
The question was so unexpected that Helgi was completely wrongfooted.
‘Hard to say. It would require a court order and, if I remember right, that could take quite a long time. At present…’
… she’s caught in some sort of limbo between life and death , he wanted to say.
‘At present she’s only being treated as missing.’
‘OK. In other words, she could be alive.’
Again, Kristín’s reaction took him aback.
She seemed preoccupied, but eventually she continued: ‘Sorry, but what has all this got to do with me?’
‘I’m looking for someone by the name of Kristín Unnur árnadóttir. And as far as I can tell, you’re the only one in the country.’
‘That’s right. I’ve never had an exact namesake.’
‘Right. Well, strange as it may sound, your name cropped up in Elín’s will.’
‘What? Are you serious?’
Her astonishment appeared to be genuine.
‘Quite. We can’t understand it. You said you didn’t know each other?’
‘No, I can’t really say we did. I met her once, as I mentioned. But only in a professional context.’ She lowered her gaze. ‘I don’t understand it either. I just can’t take it in.’ Then she added, her eyes sharp again: ‘Her will, you said? Why have you been looking at her will if she’s still alive?’
‘It’s not official. We’re simply trying to look into all angles. I was hoping her will might shed some light on the matter, and it pointed to you. But our chat seems to have left me with more questions than answers.’
‘Then imagine how I feel!’ Kristín smiled, but still seemed rather dazed.
And Helgi still hadn’t dropped his bombshell.
Picking his words carefully, he said: ‘Any discussion of her will is pretty theoretical at this stage, while we don’t know what’s happened to Elín. If she turns up, alive and well, I’ll probably have told you more than she would have wanted.’
Kristín nodded.
‘But the situation is that you’re pretty much Elín’s sole heir.’
Kristín stared at him, not saying a word.
‘I realize this must come as a surprise to you,’ he said after a lengthy silence.
‘You must be joking, surely? I… I’m speechless. Are you serious?’
‘You can talk to her lawyer, if you like.’ Helgi was promising more than he could deliver here, as he wasn’t at all sure that Baldur would be willing to confirm anything. ‘His name’s Baldur Baldursson. And I assure you that this is no joke, Kristín.’
‘But why… why would she do that?’
‘That’s the big question. I’m trying to work it out myself.’
Kristín stood up.
‘Please excuse me, Helgi, but I need some time to think.’
He rose to his feet as well.
‘I understand. Will you get in touch if you think of anything that could be relevant?’
‘Of course I will,’ she said, avoiding his eye.
After a moment she asked: ‘Is it a lot of money?’
‘Her legacy?’
‘Yes.’
‘I can’t really say at this stage, but I assume she has considerable assets, yes.’
‘OK,’ Kristín said. ‘Right, OK. Can I call you, then?’
‘Yes, please do.’