Whale Fjord

Twenty-Two

Louisa didn’t show at 10 a.m. Vigdís was writing up the assault in Kópavogur. They had one poor description of the thug to go on. Big, light brown hair, small beard, blurred ink on his neck.

No sign of Louisa at ten-thirty.

Magnus texted her. No response.

By eleven, Magnus was worried. A foreigner missing an appointment with the police should be no big deal. Perhaps she had decided to drop the whole thing? Perhaps whatever she thought was important hadn’t seemed so important in the light of day?

But he had seen enough of Louisa to know she would take an appointment with the police seriously. If she had changed her mind or if something else had come up, she would have told him. Louisa was the kind of woman who didn’t miss appointments.

He had a bad feeling about this.

‘I’m going to Louisa’s Airbnb,’ he told Vigdís.

‘Really?’

‘I don’t like it.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said Vigdís, going back to her computer.

Magnus drove the short distance. He rang the bell to Louisa’s flat. No answer. He tried again. Nothing.

The entrance to the flat was through a white door just beside the clothes-store front. There was a key box with a combination — no doubt tenants were given the code when they arrived at the start of their stay.

Magnus called Vigdís. ‘She’s not there,’ he said.

‘Maybe she’s gone for a coffee.’

‘Without contacting me? Can you get hold of Airbnb and tell them to find someone to let me in? Say we are worried about their tenant’s safety.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously. She had important information for me today. I’m worried. I hope I’m wrong.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Vigdís.

Magnus grabbed a cup of coffee at a café across the road. Five minutes later, he received a text: The owner will be round in ten minutes.

The owner was a man in his thirties wearing a suit but no tie — a banker or businessman who bought properties to rent out on Airbnb on the side.

Magnus introduced himself. ‘Your tenant is Louisa Sugarman, right?’ he asked.

‘That’s right. She’s taken the place for two weeks. She said she was visiting friends in Iceland when I exchanged emails with her. Your colleague said you were worried about her?’

‘I am. Do you mind if we go in and check on her?’

‘Sure.’ He pulled out some keys and unlocked the door of the building. Louisa’s flat was on the first floor.

Magnus stopped the man as he was about to unlock the door and gave him a pair of disposable gloves, putting some gloves on himself.

The man raised his eyebrows, but put them on, turned the key and made way for Magnus to enter.

Louisa Sugarman was lying on the floor of the living room, face up, her blood staining the fine weathered floorboards.