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 certaincharm 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 havea 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?’
