Read Online Cold Comfort by Quentin Bates - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Quentin Bates
Ads: Link
same day that Svana Geirs had been found with the side of her head crushed on the kitchen floor, the call timed at 13.53 and lasting less than three minutes.
“So she was still alive at five to two,” Gunna mused.
“Say something, chief?” Helgi enquired.
“Albert got all the data out of Svana Geirs’ phone. The last call that was answered was at 13.53 on the day she died, so she was alive then. Narrows things down a bit, I suppose. Her cleaner turned up just before five, by which time Svana had already been dead for a while.”
“We showed up just after five, and Miss Cruz said that Svana could have been murdered between midday and three, so that fits. But 13.53 is only an indicator if we assume that Svana answered her own phone.”
“Don’t make things complicated yet,” Gunna admonished. “Although you’re right. We have to take into account that someone else could have answered it.”
“Where did you find it?”
“Under the dishwasher. Got you to call the number and listened out until it rang. Remind me to let you hear her tasteful ringtone properly sometime.” Gunna riffled through the top sheets of the printout. “That’s it. That’s the last activity on the phone, except for a load of missed calls from mostly withheld numbers.”
“So how about she had the phone in her hand when she was actually attacked?” Helgi said slowly. “Surely if the attacker wanted to get rid of it, he’d have taken it with him and dropped it off a bridge. I reckon we can be sure that Svana didn’t deliberately put her own phone under the dishwasher. What d’you think?”
“It sounds more likely. You’d have thought an attacker would have taken it and disposed of it rather than stash it under the dishwasher,” Gunna agreed, staring at the heaped printout. “Where’s Eiríkur? I need some help going through all this stuff.”
“He’s off today.”
“OK. You know, Helgi, I have a strong feeling that you’re absolutely right. Svana gets a bang on the head, hits the ground like a sack of potatoes and anything in her hand’s going to go flying. Which means that there’s a real possibility that she was taking this call when she was attacked—which could give us a very precise time of death.”
“What’s next, then?” Helgi asked dubiously.
Gunna felt her stomach growl. “It’s all boring detective work, starting with going through the names and numbers in Svana’s call log. Are you still looking for Long Ommi?”
Helgi rolled his eyes and Gunna saw his shoulders droop. “God, yes. The bastard’s about somewhere, but I’m damned if I can find out where he’s holed himself up. Normally there’s someone who’s only too ready to pipe up and it takes about two days to track these deadbeats down, but I don’t know what Ommi’s doing right this time.”
“I’d better leave you to it. Can you put Eiríkur on to this tomorrow?”
Helgi’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not here tomorrow?”
“Yeah, afternoon shift. See you at lunchtime,” Gunna said, pulling on her anorak.
“H Æ! ANYBODY LIVE here?” Gunna called out, kicking off her shoes in the back kitchen of Sigrún’s house among all the boots scattered in front of the wire-mesh cage that occupied the corner. She swung open the kitchen door to be greeted by steam and the aroma of fish soup from the pot on the stove. Baleful eyes glared from the cage.
Sigrún looked up and gently closed the laptop on the kitchen table in front of her. “All right? Good day?”
“Not bad, apart from a smarmy git trying to smooch his way into my knickers.”
“But you say it like it’s a bad thing?” Sigrún grinned.
“Hallur Hallbjörnsson.”
“The handsome-and-knows-it MP?”
“Yup.”
“Yuck. You can lock people up for trying it on with a police officer, can’t you?”
“If only.”
Gunna fumbled in her pocket for the packet that wasn’t there any more while lifting a mug from the tree on the worktop behind her without having
“So she was still alive at five to two,” Gunna mused.
“Say something, chief?” Helgi enquired.
“Albert got all the data out of Svana Geirs’ phone. The last call that was answered was at 13.53 on the day she died, so she was alive then. Narrows things down a bit, I suppose. Her cleaner turned up just before five, by which time Svana had already been dead for a while.”
“We showed up just after five, and Miss Cruz said that Svana could have been murdered between midday and three, so that fits. But 13.53 is only an indicator if we assume that Svana answered her own phone.”
“Don’t make things complicated yet,” Gunna admonished. “Although you’re right. We have to take into account that someone else could have answered it.”
“Where did you find it?”
“Under the dishwasher. Got you to call the number and listened out until it rang. Remind me to let you hear her tasteful ringtone properly sometime.” Gunna riffled through the top sheets of the printout. “That’s it. That’s the last activity on the phone, except for a load of missed calls from mostly withheld numbers.”
“So how about she had the phone in her hand when she was actually attacked?” Helgi said slowly. “Surely if the attacker wanted to get rid of it, he’d have taken it with him and dropped it off a bridge. I reckon we can be sure that Svana didn’t deliberately put her own phone under the dishwasher. What d’you think?”
“It sounds more likely. You’d have thought an attacker would have taken it and disposed of it rather than stash it under the dishwasher,” Gunna agreed, staring at the heaped printout. “Where’s Eiríkur? I need some help going through all this stuff.”
“He’s off today.”
“OK. You know, Helgi, I have a strong feeling that you’re absolutely right. Svana gets a bang on the head, hits the ground like a sack of potatoes and anything in her hand’s going to go flying. Which means that there’s a real possibility that she was taking this call when she was attacked—which could give us a very precise time of death.”
“What’s next, then?” Helgi asked dubiously.
Gunna felt her stomach growl. “It’s all boring detective work, starting with going through the names and numbers in Svana’s call log. Are you still looking for Long Ommi?”
Helgi rolled his eyes and Gunna saw his shoulders droop. “God, yes. The bastard’s about somewhere, but I’m damned if I can find out where he’s holed himself up. Normally there’s someone who’s only too ready to pipe up and it takes about two days to track these deadbeats down, but I don’t know what Ommi’s doing right this time.”
“I’d better leave you to it. Can you put Eiríkur on to this tomorrow?”
Helgi’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not here tomorrow?”
“Yeah, afternoon shift. See you at lunchtime,” Gunna said, pulling on her anorak.
“H Æ! ANYBODY LIVE here?” Gunna called out, kicking off her shoes in the back kitchen of Sigrún’s house among all the boots scattered in front of the wire-mesh cage that occupied the corner. She swung open the kitchen door to be greeted by steam and the aroma of fish soup from the pot on the stove. Baleful eyes glared from the cage.
Sigrún looked up and gently closed the laptop on the kitchen table in front of her. “All right? Good day?”
“Not bad, apart from a smarmy git trying to smooch his way into my knickers.”
“But you say it like it’s a bad thing?” Sigrún grinned.
“Hallur Hallbjörnsson.”
“The handsome-and-knows-it MP?”
“Yup.”
“Yuck. You can lock people up for trying it on with a police officer, can’t you?”
“If only.”
Gunna fumbled in her pocket for the packet that wasn’t there any more while lifting a mug from the tree on the worktop behind her without having
Similar Books
