ICEHOTEL (12 page)

Liz was sitting with Erik, laughing at something he was
saying, behaving as though nothing had happened. Jonas was staring at her, his
face expressionless. He caught me watching and turned away, but not before I’d
seen the look in his eyes. My mouth went dry. Was he feeling guilty at not
having acted quickly? Or did he have something to hide?

Harry’s eyes were still closed. ‘What happened back there,
Maggie?’ he said quietly. ‘I was in the hollow with Liz, and saw nothing till
it was too late.’

‘All I know is that you and Liz climbed down after the
reindeer and, a second later, the snowmobiles toppled. Mike and Jonas were next
to them.’ I hesitated. ‘They said they didn’t see you, but I can’t understand
that. They must have seen you climb down.’

He opened his eyes. ‘What I can’t understand is why the
machines fell over in the first place. Don’t you think it odd?’

‘It was an accident,’ I said firmly. ‘They were badly
parked.’

‘Were they? I thought the guide checked them before we went
for lunch. You were with him when he did it.’

‘I didn’t see him check them all. I left after he looked at
mine.’

‘But he would have checked each one, wouldn’t he? They were
his machines. He wouldn’t be sloppy about a thing like that.’

I felt the small hairs on the back of my neck rise. ‘What
are you saying, Harry?’

‘Nothing, my dear, except that I can quite believe that Mike
and Jonas may not have seen us. No, what I find strange is that the
snowmobiles, which had all been checked by an expert, slipped their brakes.’

In the late afternoon, I ran into
Liz in the foyer.

‘How are you feeling?’ I said anxiously.

She shrugged off the question, smiling. ‘Absolutely nothing
a stiff gin couldn’t cure.’

‘You and Harry could have been badly hurt. It makes my toes
curl just to think about it.’

‘Well, we weren’t, so let’s not dwell on it. Talking of
Harry, where is he?’

‘Working on his book. I tried to entice him out for a walk,
but he insisted on doing his writing. He and that book are joined at the hip.
You’d never think we were here for a holiday.’ I paused. ‘So how was the tour
of the church?’

‘Yes, where were you? I made the guide wait but you didn’t
show. Marcellus was asking after you,’ she added, a gleam in her eyes.

‘Was he?’

‘I have to confess, Mags, he does rather give me the
creeps.’

‘And I like him,’ I said defensively. ‘So why does he give
you the creeps?’

‘I don’t know. But that’s why he gives me the creeps. If I
knew why he gave me the creeps, he wouldn’t be giving me the creeps, if you see
what I mean.’ She ran a hand over her ponytail. ‘I have to say he’s not someone
I’d ever exchange body fluids with.’

I stared at her, wondering if this was her way of warning me
away from him.

‘Well, why didn’t you come to the church,
Mags
?’

‘I had a nap and didn’t wake in time. Did I miss anything?’

‘It’s interesting enough if architecture’s your thing.’ She
tilted her head. ‘You could pick the church up and transport it to Italy and it
really wouldn’t look out of place. Inside, though, it’s pure Scandinavian. All
the original Italian stuff was removed centuries ago.’

‘And the platform in the tower?’ I said eagerly.

‘Yes, Marita was right. There’s a notice telling you about
viewing the aurora.’ She studied me. ‘It’s a bit of a climb, Mags. Are you
absolutely sure you want to do it?’

‘Later in the week, perhaps. Tonight after dinner, I’m going
out onto the river.’

‘Gosh, you are keen. But how do you know there’ll be
anything to see?’

I nodded at the notice board. ‘They’re expecting a display
tonight. There’s something about a solar flare.’

She shook her head slowly. ‘I really can’t understand what
it is with you and this aurora. It’s just pretty lights in the sky, isn’t it?’

‘So tell me, did Mike go on the tour?’ I said, suddenly curious.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact he did.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing.’

‘And afterwards?’

‘We’re only just back.’ Her voice was measured. ‘Mags, do I
detect a subtext here?’

I was now annoyed I’d missed the tour. Not because I wanted
to see the church, which I could visit at any time, but because I wanted to see
how Mike and Liz behaved together.

She pulled a face. ‘Wilson kept interrupting the guide,
asking daft questions. At one point, I thought Mike was going to wallop him.’

‘If he had, he’d have come off badly. You saw how Marcellus
handled himself.’

‘You don’t think Mike would be a match? They’re the same
height and build, you know.’ There was a glint in her eyes.

‘I suppose you think Mike would have Marcellus’s nuts in a
jar in seconds.’

She smiled. ‘You always did have a rather fine turn of
phrase, Mags.’

She seemed determined to pursue Mike. But she was my best
friend, and I had to tell her. ‘Look, Liz, there’s something you need to know
about Mike. He told me he’s into gambling in a big way. He goes to poker
matches in Edinburgh.’

She hesitated, seemingly undecided as to which stance to
take. ‘Well, what of it?’ she said finally. ‘It gives him a certain cachet,
don’t you think?’

‘I don’t. Put him back where you found him, Liz. People who
gamble often ruin their lives. And the lives of others,’ I added meaningfully.
‘If this is how Mike likes to spend his time, give him a wide berth.’

‘It’s just a bit of harmless fun,’ she said in a tone which
suggested she didn’t believe what she was saying. ‘I’m hoping to get to know
him, Mags.’

‘Be careful what you wish for. You didn’t see the lust on
his face when he told me.’

‘Lust?’

‘Yes, lust. And it’s not just the gambling. There’s
something about him I find disturbing. I can’t put my finger on it. He’s all
charm and smarm on the surface, but underneath I think he’s mad, bad, and
dangerous to know.’

Her eyes held mine. I knew what she was thinking:
Are you
really such a good judge of men, Mags?
But she had the good grace not to
rub it in.

‘It’s ages till dinner,’ she said, when the silence had gone
on too long. ‘There’s time for a sauna. Are you coming?’

I was disappointed she’d dismissed my suspicions so readily.
‘I’m going to the lounge,’ I said.

She frowned. ‘Oh, you’re not drinking already? Do go easy,
Mags. Remember it’s Purple Kiss after dinner.’

‘I’m not going for a drink. I feel like a game of chess.’

I watched her leave, suddenly remembering the fright in her
eyes when she saw the pile of twisted snowmobiles. Did she know that Mike had
been above the overhang when they fell? And hadn’t shouted to warn her? Had
Mike really not seen her?

Was I becoming paranoid?

The only guests in the lounge were
the Ellises and Jane Galloway. They were in an alcove, Robyn and Jim huddled
one on either side of Jane. She was holding her camera so they could all see
the screen.

I took the seat opposite. ‘Are those of the snowmobile
trip?’

‘The Icehotel tour.’ Jim looked up. ‘I wish I could have
brought my boys to see that Scottish room.’

‘Your children?’ I said, smiling.

‘My pupils. Robyn and I are teachers.’ He glanced at his
wife. When she didn’t respond, he added, ‘We both teach English literature.’

‘That was some trip today, Maggie,’ said Jane.

‘The accident with the snowmobiles?’

‘We were at that viewing place and saw nothing. What in
heaven’s name happened?’

It wasn’t a topic I wanted to dwell on, but I could see they
expected me to tell them what I knew. ‘One minute the machines were on the
slope,’ I said. ‘The next, they were in a heap. It was a bizarre accident.’

‘If bizarre accidents are going to happen
– ’
said Jim.

‘Oh, stop being neurotic,’ said Robyn. ‘Nothing is going to
happen, bizarre or otherwise.’

‘I’m sure Sven has insurance,’ Jane said, smiling ruefully.
‘According to Mr Bibby, those machines cost a packet.’

At the mention of Sven, Harry’s words came back:
What I
find strange is that the snowmobiles, which had been checked by an expert,
slipped their brakes.
Sven
was
an expert, so how could those
machines have fallen? I kept coming back to it: Mike and Jonas had been standing
beside them.

The others were watching me as though I held the key to the
puzzle. There was nothing more I could tell them.

‘I’m forgetting my manners,’ Jim said kindly. ‘Can I get you
something to drink?’

‘Thanks, but no.’ I cleared my throat. ‘I came for a game of
chess. Any takers?’

‘Sorry, I don’t play,’ said Jane.

‘Nor do we,’ said Robyn with finality.

Jim was opening his mouth to speak, when a deep voice said,
‘I’ll give you a game, ma’am.’

I turned slowly. ‘Excellent,’ I said, hoping the tone of my
voice was consistent with its message.

Wilson fetched the flat wooden box from the bookcase. At the
table beside the window, he set up the board and pieces. ‘How long have you
been playing chess, Maggie?’ He was studying me through narrowed eyes.

Of course, I thought, a shrewd businessman would evaluate
the opposition first. I smiled disarmingly. ‘Since I was a child.’

‘Not too long then.’ He held out his arms, hands clenched
into fists.

I pointed to his left. He uncurled the fist to reveal a
black pawn.

A soft smile touched his lips. Something about his
expression made me suspect he’d played chess all his life. Perhaps not with a
board and wooden pieces.

He began with the traditional opening: pawn to king four.

‘Are you enjoying your stay here, Wilson?’ I said, making a
show of concentration.

‘This place is something else, isn’t it? The snow conditions
are just right.’

I lifted the pawn in front of the queen’s knight and moved
it two squares forward.

‘Ah, the Sicilian defence. A good response. I see you’ll be
keeping me on my toes.’ His hand hovered over the board. ‘Yes, I was saying
that the snow conditions are right for just about everything. I’m hoping to go
on the snow-shoeing walk tomorrow.’ He made his play, moving another pawn.

‘Today’s accident hasn’t put you off?’

‘Nah. I’ve seen accidents with snowmobiles before.’

We played silently for a while. He moved his pieces quickly
and confidently, seeming impatient at my hesitation.

‘Are you going back to the States at the end of the week?’ I
said.

‘I have unfinished business in Stockholm.’

‘To do with your schools’ programme?’ I glanced up.
‘Marcellus told me about it.’

‘I’ve a few things to conclude there. Then there’s the
obligatory reception at the palace.’

‘It sounds like a great thing you’re doing,’ I said quietly.

‘I’m proud of it.’ A strange look came into his eyes.
‘Possibly more so than of my other initiatives.’

‘Including the
Bibby
Foundation?’

‘The Foundation is my son’s pigeon now, I have little to do
with it.’

‘Including the decision on what to fund?’ I said, hoping I
wasn’t being too blunt.

He didn’t look up. ‘I will always retain control over that.’

‘And does Marcellus agree with your funding decisions?’ I
said, knowing that now I was being too blunt.

‘Not always.’ His voice was hard. ‘He has this romantic view
of academics, because he has no idea of what it is to be one. If I left it to
him, he’d bankrupt the Foundation before discontinuing your friend’s research
grants.’

That was one I hadn’t seen coming. I felt my cheeks flush. ‘And
after you’ve set up your schools’ programme, have you any plans for other
similar initiatives?’ I doubted he’d tell me, but I was smarting from his
remark and had to say something. I moved my knight into the centre of the
board, exposing my queen.

He didn’t hesitate. He advanced his bishop and took my
queen. ‘Check.’

I moved my king out of danger.

‘After my schools’ programme is off the ground?’ he said.
‘I’ve no particular plans,’ he added in a non-committal way. He repositioned
his knight. ‘Check.’

I took the knight. ‘Checkmate,’ I said softly.

He stared at the board, then lifted a hand and slowly pushed
the white king over. ‘I shouldn’t have underestimated you, Maggie.’

‘I wasn’t aware you had. Your play didn’t show it.’

‘Don’t patronise me, young lady.’ He leant back, studying
me. ‘I’m not used to losing.’

I smiled hesitantly. ‘Another game?’

Before he could reply, Marcellus entered. He caught his
father’s eye and brandished his mobile. Wilson rose, excusing himself, and they
slipped into an alcove where Marcellus made a call.

‘Hello now, Maggie,’ said a familiar voice. ‘We’ll have to
stop meeting like this.’

Mike took the seat vacated by Wilson. He surveyed the board.
‘Ah yes, the chess grandmaster.’ He lifted the white king and rubbed it with
his thumb. ‘Who were you playing?’

‘Wilson Bibby.’

‘Did he win?’

‘No.’

A slow smirk spread across Mike’s face. ‘And did he take it
well?’

‘No.’

‘You know what they say: Good losers don’t make good
winners.’

‘That’s crap, Mike.’

He glanced towards the alcove where the Bibbys were deep in
conversation. ‘Would you look at Bibby sitting there, like the grand lord? I
can’t imagine why he’s prepared to mix with the plebs. He could buy the
Icehotel several times over, like his fat-cat friends.’ He sneered. ‘But then
the rich have a reputation for salting their money away.’

‘I’ve never seen the point of that,’ I said, smiling. ‘I
intend to run out of money and breath at the same time.’

His lips twisted. ‘It must be lovely to have so much that
you don’t know what to do with it.’ He set the piece upright on the board but
kept his hand around it.