Winterlude by Quentin Bates

reached for his paper cup, shaking his head.
    ‘Good morning,’ Anna Björg said. ‘Up early today? Sleep well, did you?’
    He resisted an urge to place his hand on hers, and felt his face redden.
    ‘Like a log,’ he admitted. ‘Look, Anna Björg, about yesterday. I really like you a lot, but . . .’
    ‘I know,’ she said soothingly. ‘You’re a married man and you want to go home to your wife without feeling too guilty. Is that it?’
    ‘Yeah. I suppose so.’
    She put out a hand and patted his reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, Helgi. I’ve heard it all before and I’ve been five minutes’ weakness on a married man’s part once or twice before, so don’t worry about it. I’ll just be a pleasant memory you won’t mention to anyone, won’t I?’
    He could see the concern in her eyes.
    ‘Of course. I’m not someone who needs to brag,’ he said, hurt that she thought he might boast about his night with her. ‘I just hope you enjoyed it,’ he said softly. ‘Because I certainly did.’
    ‘Hafdís?’ Gunna asked.
    The tall woman sitting in the interview room looked her up and down. ‘That’s me. You are?’
    ‘Gunnhildur Gísladóttir. I’m investigating your husband’s death.’
    She shut the door and took a seat while Hafdís looked somewhere between bored and irritated. ‘I’ve been here for almost an hour,’ she said. ‘Just so you’re aware.’
    Gunna wanted to snap back that she had been on her feet since before six that morning, but bit back the reply she knew would do no good. ‘I appreciate your coming in. I believe you spoke to my colleague Helgi yesterday? Unfortunately he’s been called away so things aren’t as smooth as they should be. Anyhow, apologies for making you wait. Where do you live now?’
    ‘Oslo. I got a flight home last night. Borgar and I are still married on paper, so I’m his next of kin, I suppose, and someone has to deal with everything. I can’t expect his brothers to do much.’
    ‘When did you last see him?’
    ‘The day after the trial.’
    ‘Almost five years ago. Were you in the process of divorcing him, or what?’
    ‘It was happening but there was no hurry. It’s not as if Borgar and I were likely to run into one another.’
    ‘Was your relationship amicable?’
    Hafdís sighed. ‘What do you think?’
    ‘I don’t know. I never met him and have no idea what he was like. That’s why I’m asking.’
    ‘We spoke when we had to, although it’s not easy trying to discuss a divorce settlement with someone who’s only on the end of a payphone for a few hours a day. The children miss him, but they’re not aware of the whole story. They were teenagers when he was . . .’ She gulped. ‘When Borgar was sent to prison.’
    ‘You knew he was out on parole?’
    ‘When your boss called me yesterday was the first I knew of it.’
    Gunna opened her mouth to put Hafdís right, but decided against it.
    ‘Tell me about Turkey.’
    Hafdís dropped her gaze to the table between them. ‘We had planned to move there one day; there, or somewhere in North Cyprus.’
    ‘How far did you take that?’
    ‘Well,’ she said uncertainly, ‘to be quite honest, I’m not entirely sure. We had been there several times before the children were born and we had some friends there, although they were more Borgar’s friends than mine and I haven’t had contact with them since I moved to Norway.’
    ‘Did you invest there?’
    ‘Not to my knowledge,’ she said and a look of frustration crossed her face. ‘But I never knew how much money Borgar’s businesses had. Sometimes we were awash with spare cash. Sometimes there was hardly enough to buy food or pay any bills. He wasn’t an easy man to live with.’
    ‘So you don’t know if there were any investments there, or if Borgar had any business in Turkey?’
    ‘Who knows? Why?’ she demanded as if a sudden realization had just dawned on her. ‘What do you know? I’m his next of kin so whatever assets Borgar