‘We slept together. And it was so good, just like it used to be. I expect he forgot to mention the fact to you, didn’t he?’
‘Stop lying and leave me alone!’ Aníta shrieked into the intercom, and hung up.
She sat down on the sofa, drew a shaky breath and tried to come to terms with what had just happened.
That bloody bitch.
Aníta wasn’t going to let her ruin the evening.
She wasn’t going to tell Helgi about this visit either, not straight away. If anything, she would talk it over with her best friend first.
She leaned back, closed her eyes and tried to get things straight in her head.
Bergthóra was lying, of course.
Of course Helgi hadn’t gone to see her, hadn’t slept with her…
But in spite of her certainty, Bergthóra had managed to sow tiny seeds of doubt in Aníta’s mind, and that in itself was unforgivable.
From theDVnewspaper, 1 November 2004
Who is Marteinn Einarsson?
On 10 November a new crime novel,Killer, is due out from the pen of Marteinn Einarsson. In it, readers will be able to follow the further adventures of Detective Reimar in 1960s Reykjavík. Marteinn first appeared on the scene in 1995 and a year later he published his first story in the Reimar series. Many of Marteinn’s books have been translated into English and have achieved considerable popularity in the UK. Recently, major British newspaper theSunday Timeslikened the central character Reimar to Ian Rankin’s Inspector Rebus. But the biggest mystery associated with the series, and the best-kept secret in Icelandic publishing, is who is hiding behind the pseudonym ‘Marteinn Einarsson’. Various names have been put forward, including those of politicians, and some people believe there is more than one individual behind the books. Marteinn’s publisher, Rut Thoroddsen, has so far deftly deflected all attempts to find out the truth, saying: ‘I’m taking the secret to my grave. Besides, I wouldn’t want to deprive the public of an entertaining puzzle.’
MONDAY
2012
Monday, 5 November
It’s like an old summer cabin, only bigger, was Helgi’s immediate reaction when he first set foot in Kaffivagninn. He instinctively felt at home there and had no difficulty understanding why Lovísa and Elín had chosen this café for their regular meet-ups. The place had a timeless air. It stood right on the harbour, almost at the end of the jetty, as if it might slide off any minute and sail out to sea.
Helgi took in the rustic wood panelling and the lingering smell of food in the air. He studied the menu and saw that it offered a number of fish dishes, as you’d expect, but at this hour they were serving breakfast.
Two of the tables were occupied. In a corner by the window, a young man sat with a laptop, absorbed in some task, perhaps writing a story, like Elín. In the middle of the room, there was a table full of men in late middle age, who Helgi thought looked like old fishermen meeting fortheir morning coffee, as close to the sea as they could get without leaving dry land.
Helgi hadn’t come here with any particular purpose in mind. Mostly he just wanted to see the two women’s meeting place for himself and to make a few inquiries while he was on the premises.
The young woman behind the counter smiled at him when he approached.
‘What can I offer you?’
He took a closer look at the menu and the pastries on offer, lingering over the pancake rolls. They reminded him of his grandmother up north, who had been a dab hand at making them, though somehow her skill hadn’t been passed down to the next generation, let alone to his.
‘Maybe I’ll have a couple of those pancakes,’ he said, ‘and a cup of coffee.’
He paid for the refreshments, but didn’t immediately move away.
‘Sorry, but I’m from the police. I couldn’t ask you a few questions, could I?’ he asked in a low voice.
‘What?’
‘It’s nothing serious, but we’re looking into an incident involving two older women who are regulars here.’
‘Oh? Well, I don’t know…’
‘They meet here every Tuesday at two. Do you work on Tuesdays?’
