ICEHOTEL (19 page)

‘Is this the only tune in your repertoire?’ I said sadly.

He gestured to the Icehotel, its blue colour bleached white
in the sunlight. ‘No-one can get in. It’s like Fort bloody Knox.’

‘I bet you could if you wanted to,’ I said carelessly.
‘There are no locks to pick. The handles are taped, but it wouldn’t take much
to cut through them.’

He snorted, lighting his cigarette. ‘You think I’d try a
caper like that? Have you seen the A-list detective running this case? He’s
marked my cards and no mistake.’

‘Don’t tell me you tried to interview him.’

He drew his head back and blew smoke into the air. ‘We all
did. We won’t get much change out of him. He’s issuing press statements but
nothing else. And there’s not much there. Nothing I can go back to my boss
with.’ He chewed his lip. ‘Please, Maggie, you’re my only hope. Give me
something. I need a break. My boss has got me by the short and curlies.’

The man was a walking cliché. ‘You’re wasting your time,’ I said.
‘I don’t know what Wilson’s room looks like.’

‘But you were in the one next to his.’

‘That doesn’t mean I went in.’

‘What about the morning his body was discovered? Was it you
who found him dead?’

‘It was the girls who bring the drinks.’ I felt a twinge of
guilt; he’d be pestering Karin and Marita now.

He dropped his cigarette and began to scribble furiously.
‘Go on.’

‘There’s nothing more to tell. Harry and I saw a little way
into the room, that’s all.’

‘That’s Harry Auchinleck?’

I was no longer surprised at the extent of his knowledge. ‘I
suppose you’ve already pumped him for information.’

‘Fat chance, love. We’ve locked horns in the past. He can
clam up tighter than a virgin’s thighs.’

‘Locked horns?’

‘I’ve seen him in court.’

‘Ah, yes. Harry’s been an expert witness many times.’

‘That’s as may be, darling, but me and the boys never get
anything from him. Zippo. Zippo. Zippo.’

I grinned. ‘Why am I not surprised?’

‘These professors are all the same. They think they’re
anointed rather than appointed. I’m sure he’s got a funny handshake, if you
catch my drift. And I bet he eats muesli for breakfast. My paper offered him
top whack for a story. Cash on the nail. And he turned us down.’ He jeered.
‘You’d think, from the way he dresses, he could use the dough.’

‘You may find this hard to believe, but it’s not money that
floats Harry’s boat.’

‘He can’t be a carbon-based life form, then.’ He paused.
‘So, what about it, love? I’ll give you an exclusive.’

‘Look, Mr Hinckley – ’

‘Denny.’

‘Denny, there were loads of people around when Wilson’s body
was discovered. Why don’t you go and harangue someone else? And here’s some
friendly advice – it might be helpful not to rush in with both ones blazing.’

‘I’ve tried everyone. No-one can remember a thing,’ he said
in disgust. ‘As soon as I appear, it’s a case of galloping amnesia. And my
editor won’t let me offer money.’ He added quickly, ‘You were going to be the
exception, of course.’

I laughed. ‘Well, without money, you’re going to have to
rely on that winning personality.’

He stared at the Icehotel. ‘If this godforsaken place
weren’t on the edge of the known world, I might have got here before they’d
taped it off.’ He scratched his nose. ‘I suppose I could ask Mr Hoity Toity
Detective to send an officer in with me.’

‘Forget it, Denny. You’ll spend all your time filling out
forms in triplicate.’

‘Why? The place isn’t a crime scene.’ A gleam came into his
eye. ‘In my line of work it’s easier to be granted forgiveness than permission.
Maybe I should break in after all.’

‘Do that, and stuff’s going to happen.’ I paused. ‘You know,
I don’t make you as the type to go looking for trouble.’

He spoke with feeling. ‘Oh, I don’t need to. I know where it
is.’ His face sagged. ‘Listen, Maggie, I have to find a big story. I can’t
afford to let the grass grow under my feet. There are young guys coming up
behind me, if you catch my drift.’

I was starting to feel sorry for him. Something about his
look of desolation made me ask, ‘Do you have family, Denny?’

He seemed surprised at the sudden shift in the conversation.
‘My ex remarried so we don’t see each other no more. Maybe just as well. I
don’t have to continue with the payments. She likes the high life.’

‘Any children?’

His eyes filmed over with sadness. ‘I thought we were trying
for kids, till I discovered she’d been taking the pill. Secretly like, behind
my back. So, no. No kids.’

I had a sudden desire to help him. ‘Listen, Denny, if you’re
after a story, forget Wilson Bibby and the Icehotel. There’s another you could
pursue.’

‘Another?’ He’d put his notebook away and was holding his
mobile above his head, turning in a tight circle.

‘Have you heard of the Stockholm hotel murders?’

He stopped dead. ‘Hotel murders?’ His eyes glittered. ‘Tell
me more, lovely girl.’

‘I don’t know the details, but the barman does. And so do
the staff. There was nothing in the British papers, as far as I can remember,
so maybe you can scoop it.’

‘Stockholm, eh? But what’s this got to do with Wilson
Bibby?’ A slow grin spread across his face. ‘You think he was murdered, then?’

‘Of course not. It’s got nothing to do with him, he died of
a heart attack. All I’m saying is, if you’re looking for a story, you might get
more mileage from the Stockholm hotel murders. There was a death in Stockholm
last week. May be coincidence. May be not.’ I was about to add that Harry could
tell him things, when I remembered that Denny was likely to get short shrift in
that department.

He seemed undecided. He was gazing at the Icehotel. I could
see he couldn’t let it go. It had taken hold of him the way it took hold of
everyone, reaching with its icy hands, caressing softly.

‘Breathtaking, isn’t it?’ I said, watching him.

He didn’t reply. His eyes were glazed, the expression,
vacant.

I left him standing by the
brazier.

‘Maggie! Wait for me!’

It was Jane. She was wearing a red snowsuit and fur hat,
Russian-style, with flaps over the ears. Corkscrews of hair were stuck to her
forehead. She was stomping over the ice, breathing hard.

I looked at her feet. ‘Why are you wearing plastic tennis rackets?’

‘These were all that was left. The wooden snowshoes have
gone.’ She stooped, supporting herself by gripping my shoulder, and eased them
off.

I tapped the hard mesh. ‘It looks painful.’

‘At least I can say I’ve given them a go.’ She glanced at
the forest. ‘You going for a walk?’

I hesitated, seeing my chance for solitude spinning out of
sight. I could have put her off, but the last time I’d seen her, she was
rocking in terror listening to the barman tell his tales of murder. I took her
arm. ‘Let’s find the trail,’ I said.

We walked into the forest. The path was narrow but
well-trodden, and lined with pine trees. They were heavy with snow, their
branches bending inwards and meeting those of the trees opposite. The slanting
light filtering through the leaves threw splashes of brilliance onto the
ground. Amongst such whiteness, the tree trunks looked black, the ribbed bark
with its dusting of snow, like filigree lace.

‘Have you seen who’s here?’ Jane said, after we’d walked a
little way. When I didn’t reply, she added in a voice beating with excitement,
‘Aaron Vandenberg.’

‘Yes, I met him earlier. I suppose it’s hardly surprising,
the family lawyer descending.’

‘He’s not just the family lawyer. Doesn’t the name
Vandenberg ring a bell?’

I shook my head.

‘Have you heard of Marcia Vandenberg?’

‘Of course,’ I said, remembering suddenly, ‘the heiress who
died from the overdose. Was she his wife?’

‘Aaron and Marcia were brother and sister.’

‘And she was Marcellus Bibby’s girlfriend?’ I said,
astonished.

‘Not only that.’ She lowered her voice, hardly necessary
considering where we were. ‘The police suspected him of involvement in her
death.’

I threw her a sidelong glance. ‘So what do you think? Was
Marcellus involved?’

‘I know next to nothing about their relationship.’ She
tugged her ear flaps down. ‘Only what was in the tabloids.’

Yes, the Bibbys seemed always to be in the papers. And there
was going to be a damn sight more about them after this week was out.

I stole a look at her. ‘How are you coping with what’s going
on here, Jane? Wilson Bibby’s accident, I mean.’

She didn’t reply immediately. I watched the passage of
emotions on her face. ‘Well enough,’ she said.

‘You’re not just being brave?’ I said gently. ‘You don’t
think Wilson was the victim of the Stockholm hotel killer?’

‘Leo said it was a heart attack. And, anyway, all that
murder business took place over a year ago.’

‘Tell me about yourself, Jane,’ I said, wanting to change
the subject. ‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a dentist’s receptionist.’ She flashed her one-thousand-watt
smile. ‘It’s not as grand as it sounds. You know what it’s like. You start out
with these dreams and you end up doing something totally different.’

I smiled. ‘Real life gets in the way. So, what were your
dreams?’

‘I’ve always wanted to be a journalist.’ She gave a nervous
laugh. ‘I thought that coming here would give me inspiration for a travel
article. How many people come to the Icehotel?’

A whole lot more would be coming now, I thought cynically.
‘And have you started writing it yet?’

‘I don’t know where to begin.’

‘Maybe you need an angle. What about Wilson? He’s attracting
as much attention now he’s dead as he did when he was alive, if those reporters
are anything to go by.’

‘That’s the problem. They’re the ones making the splash. They’ll
be describing this place, as well as what happened here. By the time we go
home, it’ll be too late.’

‘But you’ve an advantage they don’t have. You’ve been
holidaying with Wilson. You’ve had insight into the person, not the millionaire
businessman. People will be more interested in that than anything Denny
Hinckley writes.’ I smiled. ‘His articles will be tomorrow’s chip paper.’

There was bitterness in her voice. ‘Denny has a good
reputation.’

‘He wasn’t the one on that snowmobile trip. It was you and Wilson.
Now, that would make a great article. You could write about – ’

I stopped, remembering my conversation with Leo. The
revelation about the loosened brakes wasn’t something I intended to share with
Jane; I’d been stupid even to mention it. I wondered whether Leo had seen
Hallengren yet, and what Hallengren intended to do with the information.

She was watching me. ‘Is something worrying you, Maggie?’

‘It’s just that I find this place a bit, well, spooky is the
wrong word. But you know what I mean.’

‘The forest?’

I hesitated. ‘The Icehotel.’

She swallowed rapidly. ‘It’s as if it’s watching you. When I
can see the Icehotel, I can’t bring myself to talk about it.’

‘It’s as though it’s listening.’ I glanced around. ‘This
forest is the only place where you can’t see it.’

‘There’s one other. You know that road leading to the
church? It bends into a small clearing enclosed by trees. The church is in that
clearing. You can’t see the Icehotel from there.’ The muscles of her face
tightened. ‘You can see it from the top of the tower, though.’

‘Wow, you’ve been up?’ I said, making a show of being
impressed. ‘I’ve still to go.’

‘If you do, then don’t take the road. There’s a path inside
the forest. You can just see it from the road if you peer through the trees.
It’s easier walking, and won’t take nearly as long.’

‘So when did you climb the tower?’

‘After the tour of the church.’ Her expression brightened.
‘The church is lovely. I felt a great sense of peace. Apart from the tours,
no-one seems to go there. The pews are all dusty. Strange that the candles were
lit, though.’

‘And the view from the top?’

‘Magnificent.’ The light faded from her eyes. ‘But you can
see the ice buildings in the distance. Including the Icehotel. And the Chapel.’

‘Have you been inside the Chapel?’ I said slowly, my mind
immediately back with the image of the snow-covered corpse.

‘I wanted to, but something prevented me.’ Her voice sounded
strange. ‘I couldn’t get through the door. I pulled at the handles, but it was
as if something was pulling from the other side. I pushed hard, and it pushed
back. I let go, and the door swung back and forth. When I pulled again, the
same thing happened.’

‘Someone must have been inside, larking around,’ I said
nervously.

‘There was no-one inside, Maggie.’

I wondered how she could know that. But I said nothing. The
most likely explanation was Mike, or Jonas, having a laugh.

She gripped my sleeve, her eyes wide. ‘Don’t go in there,
Maggie. The place is evil.’

‘Nonsense,’ I said, with a bravado I didn’t feel. ‘It’s a
consecrated Chapel. There’s no evil there.’

‘Then what about those statues?’ she said in measured tones.

‘The circus statues?’ I said faintly.

‘Have you noticed they’re different every time you look?’

‘That’s impossible.’

‘Look closely, Maggie.’

‘
Okay
, I will, but I doubt I can
remember what they were like before.’ I suddenly found myself shivering. ‘Let’s
go back, Jane. I’m getting cold.’

We walked in silence through the forest and onto the ice.
Aaron Vandenberg had gone, but Denny Hinckley was loitering at the river’s
edge, kicking his feet into the snow. He waved as we passed, but made no
attempt to detain us.

Jane stopped at the roadside. ‘I’m taking the bus into
Kiruna. Jim and Robyn are meeting me for shopping and then lunch.’ Her face
brightened. ‘Would you like to join us?’