This police procedural by a British writer, Icelandic setting, is the first Gunnhildur Gisladottir mystery.

I have wanted to read this series since I met Quentin Bates during CrimeFest last year, but as you know, I have tried hard to tame my TBR.

“He braced one booted foot on the heavy timber parapet running the length of the quay, and quickly straightened his back as he tipped the passenger headlong into the blackness below.”

So though the death in the first chapter looks like a drowning accident, the reader knows someone helped the drunk man along, and we sympathize with Gunna who has to convince her boss that there is a case.

I enjoyed the story very much even though financial crime is not exactly my favourite plot. Gunna is of the less-than-perfect but perfectly likeable protagonist type. So this debut is not quite Arnaldur Indridason or Yrsa Sigurdardottir yet, but if you like their series and the Icelandic setting, I am sure you will enjoy meeting Gunna,  her team and her little family.

I bought the ebook myself, and I am looking forward to the next volumes.

This series may not be widely know – yet – but if you have read the novel, I think you will remember the description of the protagonist:

“Can´t miss her. She´s a big fat lass with a face that frightens the horses.”

If you know, please leave a hint to keep other readers guessing.

PS: I am much better, thank you, have finished the book but no time to review it today.

My little story is now out there, and thank you again to my blog friends for your valuable inspiration and feedback.

Amazon.com  Smashwords.com.

The only minus:

As I read so little these days, I found it a bit difficult to remember the characters. Harjunpää, Kontio and Luukkanen are not exactly household names in Denmark

The book is a fine police procedural. Strongly recommended if you want to try something different. The book is marketed as ´an important forerunner of Wallander´, but this universe was not as dark and violent as that of Henning Mankell.

Is there something like an engaging stalker? Read the book, meet Tweety, and answer the question for yourself.

Maxine very kindly sent me the book.

Cover photo: Ellen Nielsen.

Read part I, part II, part III and IV, part V.

VI

- If only we knew who stole what. Constable Penrose had just gone through Rhapsody´s nice and tidy notes. He gave her a brief summary of the doctor´s preliminary examination. – And I´ve been over the charity shop with a fine-tooth comb, of course. But the problem is that all our suspects are volunteers who had every right to be in the shop.

- So you also believe theft is at the heart of this case?

He nodded. – Furniture perhaps? But one person couldn´t run off with any of those huge wardrobes or cupboards.

- A valuable table then? Rhapsody had hardly stuck her nose into the shop. Even though she was embarrassed to admit it, the stench had proved too much for her.

- Perhaps. If only Mrs Chesterfield had used her ears half as much as her mouth.

- Something valuable one person could carry away? Rhapsody doodled in her notebook while she tried to pick her own brain.

- What about that stamp? The King George stamp?

- Didn´t you find it among his personal belongings? There aren´t any stamp albums in his study.

- No. And I´m not at all sure it is valuable enough to be a motive for murder, but if it isn´t there…

- The question is who would know it was valuable? She flipped through the pages, scanning her interviews.

- According to Reverend Thwing, Mr Chesterfield told these tall stories about his possessions and his family background all the time.

She agreed. – The vicar and Hepplewhite certainly knew, but they don´t seem to think the stamp is that valuable. Or at least that´s what they said. She shook her head. A detective´s life would be so much simpler if people didn´t lie all the time.

- What do we know about the stamp?

- King George IV, four pence, grey or green, issued around 1912, she read aloud.

- How much can such a piece of paper be worth? Constable Penrose wondered. – Sold for four pence hundred years ago, used on a letter and…

- No, it wasn´t used, Rhapsody butted in. – Mint, Hepplewhite said.

He looked at her. – But surely no one in Aldburgh is poor enough to…

- Not poor enough, she snapped. – Just greedy and careless enough to steal other people´s things.

- We must get hold of that letter, they shouted all at once.

VII

- I´ve no idea why he made such a fuss. I just wanted to borrow a stamp. I only had some old ones, thirty-two pence, you know, and I needed thirty-six pence. For mum´s letter, you know.

Young Morris shrugged, but at least he had stopped trying to use his blue-eyed charm.

The letter lay on the table in a cheap manila envelope, sporting two stamps, one of them a grey-green specimen which was still in mint-new condition. Fortunately, the local pillar box was never emptied Sunday night so they hadn´t even had to send for it in Ipswich.

- So you stole Mr Chesterfield´s rare King George stamp even though you knew how much it meant to him? Rhapsody was so angry Penrose grabbed her arm to keep her from battering their murderer.

He nodded sullenly.

- And what then?

- Well, he hurled himself at me like a madman, didn´t he? I had to defend myself, and that wooden hammer thingy was a bit heavier than I thought. It all just sort of happened, you know.

- I know. Penrose bared his canines in a wide smile. – And now you´re going to prison for a four-pence stamp, you know.

- Retired joiner. Hepplewhite was a tall and handsome man with a broad chest. He beamed a proud smile at Rhapsody.

- When did you last see Earl Chesterfield? She knew she spit out questions like a machine gun, but as she was working against the clock, she couldn´t help it.

- Ehm, I´m afraid… Well, this is a bit embarrassing, but…

- Please, Mr Hepplewhite, we really need to get to the bottom of this tragedy. Rhapsody felt it was a smart move to leave out the sinister word ´murder´. She believed that keeping a few facts secret might help them trap witnesses who lied. Now, if one of them mentioned a chisel maul, he would be her prime suspect.

- Okay, then. I couldn´t sleep last night so I took a short stroll around the village green. And when I noticed the lights were on, I went into the shop to see what was up. And there I saw Earl.

- And you weren´t surprised to find him there at that time of the day?

- Well, no, not really. Eh, have you met Mrs Chesterfield? She natters a lot, that one. Besides, Earl had an idea someone was stealing from us so he hung about in the shop or out back all the time, wanting to catch someone red-handed.

- It would probably have been better to go to the police, Rhapsody put in.

- Course, but as it was just old furniture, no one had imagined… Hepplewhite took a deep breath, and she noticed that his hands trembled.

- You mean there was nothing valuable to steal?

He shook his head.

- No really valuable antiques, or one of Chesterfield´s stamps or something?

- His stamps? Ah, King George, you mean?

- Perhaps. Why don´t you tell me about it? Again, Rhapsody felt her interview technique was going really well.

- Chesterfield didn´t know that much about stamps, so I doubt it´s really valuable, but… Well, he found some old stamps among his late father´s possessions, and then he noticed something odd in one of them. King George´s nose looked as if it had been broken.

- Ah, that´s what the vicar… Quickly, she stopped herself. She was here to get information, not dole it out. – Do you have any idea where Mr Chesterfield kept his stamps? Would they be in a safe or something?

- No, I don´t think so. You see, he loved that stamp so much that he always kept it near him. So he could take it out and flash it around, see.

She didn´t think Hepplewhite could contribute with more information right now so she ticked him off and sent for the next volunteer on Mrs Chesterfield´s list.

- Thomas Chippendale. Volunteer and retired carpenter, Constable Gershwin.

Rhapsody coloured, constable sounded so much cooler than librarian, but her vanity mustn´t make her forget the task at hand. Chippendale could have been Hepplewhite´s twin except that he was a bit squarer and slightly bowlegged.

- Good, Mr Chippendale. And when did you last see Earl Chesterfield?

- Around midnight.

She wondered if he also had a career in the army behind him; he looked as if he was ready to salute her after each of his clipped remarks. – Please tell me about it.

- Went by the shop on my evening walk. Lights on, wanted to check.

- Ah, you were afraid some villager was stealing from the shop?

- No, I… Well, truth be told I wanted to check on Hepplewhite.

- Hepplewhite?

- You won´t tell him, will you? I´ve kept an eye on him for some time. Thought he was the one who tried to keep the best items to himself.

- Aha. But what did you see last night? Inwardly, Rhapsody sighed. What was it with these people? Running about in the night, seeing thieves everywhere.

- I just looked in through the windows. Saw Hepplewhite and Chesterfield so I thought all was well and went home.

- So they seemed amicable enough to you?

- Heplewhite did. Chesterfield may´ve been a tad agitated, but then he often was. Huge, choleric fellow. Would´ve butted in immediately if I´d thought anything was amiss, Constable.

- And you saw no one else around? In the shop or anywhere near the village green?

- No, I… Wait, was it last night or…? You see, I go for a walk most nights so… But I´m almost sure I caught a glimpse of William Morris.

- William Morris? Rhapsody began scanning the list of volunteers.

- Young student. Lives in the attic.

Annoyed that Mrs Chesterfield hadn´t thought to mention someone who lived under her own roof, Rhapsody added Morris´s name to the list. – And you saw him somewhere last night?

- Yup.

- When? Where? She noticed that Chippendale´s style had already begun to rub off.

- Hm. He scratched his cropped hair. – Headed down North Street, I think. Just caught a glimpse in the dark.

- But you are sure it was William Morris?

- Not much risk of mixing him up with anyone. You´ll see.

Rhapsody went in search of the student, and at a glance she saw what Chippendale meant. The gangly youth had long curls and wore something that looked like an embroidered tapestry.

- You are William Morris, and you live upstairs?

- Bill among friends. He screwed up his cornflower blue eyes and sent her a mischievous smile.

- Right, Mr Morris. Could you please tell me about your movements last night? She pursed her lips though she was sure many young women would have fallen for his charm.

- Last night? I was sitting upstairs in my lonely bachelor nook, writing a letter to my old mum in Ipswich. The blue eyes beamed again.

- So you didn´t leave your room at any time?

He licked his lips. – Nooo, not as far as I recall.

Smart young man, she admitted to herself. But she could also play games. – So if someone believes he saw you in the shop last night, he was mistaken?

- Eh, perhaps… He fiddled with his frayed cuffs. – Ah, of course! I grew a bit hungry after all that writing so I nipped down to see if the volunteers had left any of Mrs Chesterfield´s delicious apple pie with the clotted cream. That woman bakes the most…

- I see. And did you see anyone else downstairs?

- No, I wouldn´t say I saw anyone, but I could hear that Chesterfield was in the shop. The fridge is in the back room, and Mrs Chesterfield doesn´t mind my partiality for clotted cream.

She tapped the pencil on the desk, and he hurried on. – Well, I heard  Chesterfield  talking to Hepplewhite in the shop.

- And did you get a chance to hear what they were talking about?

Now it was obvious that he squirmed underneath his flowery rug. – Well, it´s not as if I wanted to snoop on them or anything, but…

- But? She tapped the pencil again; the action seemed to terrify him.

- But I think Chesterfield said something about stealing. And I could hear that Hepplewhite didn´t like that one bit.

- So it was your impression that Chesterfield might have accused Heplewhite of stealing?

- Well, I don´t want to implicate anyone but…

- But you must tell us what you heard, Mr Morris. Rhapsody assumed a stern teacher frown.

- Okay, I think that was what they were talking about, but I´m not ready to swear in court or anything.

- And you didn´t worry that anything might happen to Mr Chesterfield?

Again he licked his lips. – No, that… If I´d thought anything of the kind I would have reacted, of course. He straightened his slight body, trying to look like an action hero.

- And then you slipped back upstairs again and went straight to bed?

- Yes, I did. But if I´d known what was going on downstairs… He shuddered.

- So if someone says he saw you outside the house after midnight, he was mistaken, Mr Morris?

- After midnight? Yes, he must´ve been mistaken because I am sure it was some time before midnight that I popped down to the letter box with my letter. The one to my mum, you know.

- Is there anything else you have forgotten to tell me? You didn´t nip, steal or pop anywhere else? She couldn´t keep the annoyance out of her voice. The shop must have been like rush hour on the Øresund Bridge.

To be ended Thursday (tomorrow I have scheduled Sweden´s Day)

III

- I´m afraid I need reinforcements, Sir. I´ve just found a dead body in an antique ward… eh cabinet.

- Reinforcement, Constable Penrose? One constable in Aldburgh should be more than enough, and with twenty per cent of my officers on paternity leave right now…

- But I have a dead body on my hands, Sir.

- Is there anything but old stiffs down there? Sir Mars-Wrigley guffawed at his own joke.

- I know it´s inconvenient, but the manager of the local antique shop has just been found dead in…

- Antique stuff, eh? Why don´t you ask your sweet little librarian for help, then, Penrose? Antiques must be right up her alley, and I´m sure Miss Gershwin will be able to put the handcuffs on the scoundrel before I´ve had my after-dinner nap.

- But are you sure…

- Constable Penrose, do you know how much overtime you people squeezed out of me last month? No? Well, if you had, you´d know reinforcement on a Sunday was out of the question. But if you haven´t arrested anyone tomorrow morning, I´ll send Constable Winchester down to help you.

 ——————-

Of course Rhapsody jumped at the thought of helping him. His fiancée was helpfulness incarnate, and besides she was both intelligent and inquisitive. He just hated the thought of putting her at risk.

- Don´t worry, darling, I´ll just sit down quietly in Chesterfield´s study and take down people´s statements while you run about doing all the dangerous stuff. She smiled sweetly, apparently so chuffed at being in on the excitement that she forgot to remind him she wasn´t some little damsel who needed male protection.

IV

- I told him so, didn´t I? The new constable. Again, Reverend Sheridan Thwing forgot to introduce himself. He strutted into the dusty study and plonked down on the ladder-back chair across Chesterfield´s wide desk.

- And you are Reverend Sheridan Thwing, I presume? Rhapsody Gershwin eyed him sternly; she knew as much, but she wanted neat and tidy statements, not casual affairs which might indicate she wasn´t up to the standards of a professional constable.

- Sorry, Miss Gershwin. I was a bit put out. One thing is knowing you were right, but you cannot exactly gloat when a fellow human being has paid with his life, can you? He swung a long leg round that of the chair, much like a tentacle, and Rhapsody watched the manoeuvre in fascination.

- Eh, yes. No, I mean. I mean, I know you´ve already spoken to my fi… to Constable Penrose, but let´s begin with the beginning this time, shall we? You feared something was going to happen in the antique shop?

- I knew something would happen. Avarice and greed. And vanity. He shook his head. – A lethal cocktail. Lethal! Of course it was very generous of Earl Chesterfield to let us have his ground floor for free. And so very convenient, seeing that it´s so close to the village green and our beautiful, Norman church and all.

- But you actually feared for Mr Chesterfield´s life? Rhapsody was determined to be brisk and businesslike; gossip could be helpful, but she had less than twenty-four hours to prove her worth.

- Sure, that´s what I said to Constable Penrose, wasn´t it? Earl was one of the illegitimate Chesterfields, of course, yet he was always on about the old family castle with the hedge maze and the famous aviary. And then he found that King George with his nose out of joint and…

- Reverend Thwing!

- Sorry. Because he let us have the rooms for free, we accepted all his silly notions of calling himself the manager and talking about an antique shop and so… And then there was his small stamp collection and his first editions. You see, all these figments of a poor, deluded man´s imagination might have left the impression he had something worth stealing. Very dangerous, don´t you see? He leant forward to make sure he had Rhapsody´s full attention. – But I´m sure the real Chesterfields only gave him the house to shut him up.

To be continued tomorrow