ICEHOTEL (24 page)

‘I take it he wasn’t asking you out on a date, lovely girl.’

‘What do
you
think he was looking for, Denny?’

‘Must be something to do with Wilson Bibby. Question is,
what?’

‘I’m sure the Inspector will be giving the press a statement
in the morning.’ I glanced across at the bar. Mike had our drinks in his hands.
Remembering his earlier treatment of Denny, I thought I should warn him. I kept
my tone friendly. ‘I’d scarper if I were you, Denny, before my weight-lifting
friend returns and finds you here.’

‘Point taken. By the way, I need to thank you for that hot
tip. The hotel murders.’ He smiled, his eyes lazy. ‘I’ve made some enquiries of
my pals in Stockholm.’

‘And what did you discover?’

‘That death you spoke about? The American? It wasn’t natural
causes.’ He paused for effect. ‘Very unnatural, if you catch my drift.’

I felt a cold hand touch my heart. ‘What do you mean?’

He leant forward, and his breath came to me, stinking of
beer.
‘His neck was broken. Whoever did it, didn’t need much
force. From the marks on the victim’s neck, the killer used only one hand to
snap the spinal column.’

I stared at him, unable to speak.

He was on his feet. ‘Must have been strong, eh? With big
hands.’ He dropped his parting words onto the table. ‘Maybe even a
weight-lifter.’

After breakfast on Friday, I decided
to join the walking tour. I needed exercise to clear my head. I hadn’t slept
after Denny’s bombshell, specifically his comment about the weight-lifter. I
was doing my best to be civil to him, and couldn’t understand whether it had
been his intention to rattle me. What had he been implying with that comment?
Every male in the Excelsior seemed to be into weight-lifting.

Aaron Vandenberg was pacing the foyer, smoking furiously.

‘I don’t think you’re allowed to do that in here,’ I said.

‘Can you tell me what the hell’s going on?’ He was boiling
with anger. ‘Is it true the cops have turned this place over?’

‘They searched our rooms at dinner time.’

‘They should have checked with us first, let us oversee what
they were doing.’

I was tempted to say that Hallengren had picked that time
precisely to avoid any overseeing of what they were doing. ‘They were very
considerate, Mr Vandenberg. They did me a favour, in fact. After they’d
searched it, my room was tidier than it had ever been before. And, in fairness
to the Inspector, he did tell us what he was going to do.’

‘I don’t give a rat’s ass about that. Marcellus and I
weren’t at dinner.’ He spoke with more control. ‘He should have waited till we
were there.’

‘The police work to their own timetable, Mr Vandenberg.’ I
couldn’t resist adding, ‘As a lawyer, you’ll know that.’

His expression was glacial. ‘I’m not an attorney. My
dealings with the police are non-existent.’

I bet they’re not, I thought. He’d have had to deal with the
police over his sister’s death. And Aaron Vandenberg looked like a man who’d
had more than one brush with the law. For the first time, I wondered how many
of Wilson’s dealings had been above board. Whatever scam Aaron and Marcellus
were involved in, may have included him.

I looked around the foyer. ‘Is Marcellus here, Mr
Vandenberg?’

‘Why do you want to know?’ he said, suspicion in his voice.

I was getting used to his sudden changes of mood. ‘I’m
concerned, that’s all. I haven’t spoken to him since his father’s death.’

‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ he said, waving a placatory hand. ‘That
was impolite of me. He’s keeping to his room. He doesn’t want to be disturbed.’

‘Perhaps you could pass on my best wishes?’

He threw me a veiled glance, nodding, but saying nothing.

The front door opened and Engqvist entered with another
policeman. He spoke hurriedly with the receptionist. Alarm registered on the
man’s face, and he stared in our direction.

Engqvist swung round. ‘Are you Mr Aaron Vandenberg?’ he said
politely.

Aaron dropped his cigarette butt and ground it into the
carpet. ‘I am. What of it?’

‘I must ask you to come with me.’

‘May I know why?’

‘Inspector Hallengren wishes to speak with you. That’s all I
can tell you.’ He smiled. ‘We have a car outside.’

Aaron’s voice was hard. ‘Very well.’ He let the officers
escort him out of the building.

‘What do you think’s going on?’ I said to the receptionist.

He polished his glasses. ‘I have no idea. The other American
went to Kiruna this morning.’

‘Marcellus?’

‘He is still there.’

‘At the coroner’s office?’

He lowered his voice. ‘He was taken also to the police
station, personally by Inspector Hallengren. The Inspector arrived at seven
o’clock. It’s a bad business. First a death, then the hotel is searched.’

He seemed willing to talk, so I seized the opportunity. ‘Do
you know what they were looking for?’ I played with the desk bell, not looking
at him. ‘Did the Inspector tell you?’

‘He said nothing. But they searched everywhere. Even the
kitchens. I should say, specially the kitchens. They spent more time there than
anywhere else. And they took things away.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘Food, drink.’ He straightened, seeing the hotel manager.

They spoke in Swedish, not bothering to keep their voices
down, and I had the impression the receptionist was being reprimanded. The
manager glanced briefly in my direction. I stole away before he turned his
attention to me.

I sat in the Activities Room, my chin cupped in my hands. So
Hallengren had finally hauled in Marcellus and Aaron. It could only be about
the diary. I wondered how much he was prepared to reveal to them. If he told
them about the missing last page he’d be showing his hand, which would signal
to them he had no other cards to play.

What was more intriguing was
what the receptionist had just told me about the search. Hallengren hadn’t been
looking for the diary last night, that much was obvious. But what could
possibly interest him in the Excelsior’s kitchens?

After lunch, I found Harry outside,
examining the circus statues.

‘Where is everyone?’ I said.

‘Mike’s on the trip. He thought you’d like to come but he
couldn’t find you. Liz cried off.’ He scrutinised the ballerina’s flowers. ‘You
know, Maggie, these are extraordinary.’

‘The tears have gone,’ I said softly, staring at the clown.

‘What tears?’

‘When we first came here, the clown was crying.’

He straightened. ‘Are you sure, my dear? I don’t recall the
tears.’

‘Don’t you think these statues are different now?’

‘That’s not possible. Statues can’t change. That’s why
they’re statues.’

After a pause, I said, ‘So what trip did Mike go on?’

‘Reindeer racing. Oh, and the huskies.’

I pulled a face. ‘He can keep them.’

‘Not keen?’

‘I can’t stand yapping dogs. You weren’t tempted yourself?’

‘The reindeer racing is down as a fairly strenuous activity,
so not something I’d do straight after eating. Exercise is bad for the
digestion, my dear. Anyway,
I couldn’t look a
reindeer in the eye, having just eaten one for lunch.’

‘What about the huskies?’ I had a sudden vision of Harry,
arms full of wriggling puppies trying to lick his face.

‘Dogs? I don’t get on with them. They’re always trying to
mate with my leg.’ He brushed snow from the clown’s drum. ‘You know the trouble
with this climate? It’s impossible to play any proper sports.’ He made a motion
with his arms, as though wielding a cricket bat. ‘The thwack of leather against
willow is a sound they’ve never heard here.’

‘And you said Liz cried off the trip?’

His voice grew serious. ‘She didn’t sleep, Maggie. The
cross-country jolly this morning finished her off. She’s lying down. She seems
in better humour today, though.’

I hesitated. ‘Is it me, Harry, or are Liz and Mike joined at
the hip?’

‘I wonder if he’s bedded her, yet?’ He squinted into the
distance. ‘If he has, it’ll be the best thing for her.’

‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘Do I see the green-eyed monster rearing his head? I can
understand it. I feel envious, too, when I see a new-minted relationship.’

‘I’m not jealous, Harry,’ I said firmly. ‘Mike isn’t my
type.’

‘My dear, Mike is everyone’s type. Including mine. But I rather
think you’ve set your cap at the Detective Inspector.’ He held my eyes till I
looked away. He’d always been able to see through me.

‘You couldn’t be more wrong,’ I said too quickly.

I could tell he was trying not to laugh. ‘Well, if you do
get your leg over, that would also be the best thing for you, my dear. A bit of
uncomplicated sex would be just the ticket.’ He cocked his head. ‘Maybe not,
though. You try to kid us on that you chew men up and spit them out, but I’ve
known since the day I met you that you’re an incurable romantic. It’s one of
your most admirable qualities.’

‘Yours too, Harry.’

He smiled wistfully. ‘It’s taken me many years to discover
that you only ever love, I mean really love, once in your lifetime.’ He stopped
suddenly, as though he’d said too much. ‘Have you ever thought of having
children, Maggie?’ There was a softness in his voice.

‘You know how it is,’ I said, running my fingers over the
clown’s face. ‘My career’s going so well. There’s plenty of time.’

‘I used to think like that,’ he said sadly. ‘Now, I have no
choice in the matter.’ He drew back his shoulders. ‘But I’ve no cause to feel
envious. Annie and Lucy are all the children I need. And Liz is very good about
letting me spend time with them.’

My heart went out to him, the gay bachelor, with a
generosity matched only by his intellect. What a fine father he would have
made.

‘
Tell me,’ he said, ‘what
was your first boyfriend like? Do you remember?’

‘Who doesn’t remember their first? He was impulsive, always
writing poetry. He’d waylay me in the street, then, on one knee, he’d start
spouting it in front of everyone.’ I smiled at the memory. ‘We slept outdoors
once or twice, watching shooting stars.’

‘It would have to be a damned sight warmer than it is in
Scotland before I’d do that. But, at a May Ball once, I did have sex in a
meadow.’

‘I’ve done that too. It’s exhilarating.’ I slipped an arm
through his. ‘I don’t know whether it’s the fresh air, or the feeling that you
might be discovered. The only downside is picking grass seed out of your
knickers afterwards.’

‘Ha! Indeed. Well, whatever your preference in bed, the
Detective Inspector looks like your ideal man.’

‘You don’t know what my ideal man is, Harry.’

He smiled impishly. ‘Do tell.’

‘A man who knows how to take his time,’ I said without
hesitation.

He howled with laughter. ‘That’s my definition too. But you
never met my soul-mate, he was before your time. Mad as a box of frogs, but he
was my greatest love, probably my only true love.’ He brought his head close to
mine. ‘It was sex at first sight. He was absolutely brilliant in bed. He was
from my Cambridge days. We still keep in touch.’ He pulled his bobble hat down
over his forehead, and looked intently into my eyes. ‘Maggie, my dear, don’t
take this as a criticism, but I have the impression you know more than you’re
letting on.’

‘Everyone knows more than they’re letting on, Harry,’ I
said, astonished by the sudden statement. ‘Are you talking about anything in
particular?’

‘This business with Wilson’s diary. Why did the Detective
Inspector tell you it had been stolen? Police aren’t usually so free with their
intelligence.’ His eyes were cold. ‘Unless it was you who supplied the
intelligence in the first place.’

‘Hallengren mentioned it because someone told him I’d seen
it,’ I said helplessly. ‘Wilson showed me the diary on the plane.’

‘Showed you?’ He gazed into the distance. ‘And did you see
anything of interest?’

‘Nothing about the Bibby Foundation. Anyway, I presume that
won’t now go ahead.’

‘The decision to stop funding research? It can’t. Not unless
Wilson had signed off on it.’ He ran his fingers over the rim of the clown’s
bowler. ‘And with the diary gone now, we’ll never know, will we? Well, work
calls, my dear. Time’s wingèd chariot, and all that.’

‘More writing?’

‘Dragon Control has been sending text messages, requesting
sample chapters. She’s absolutely no idea what’s involved in writing. So what
are your plans for the afternoon?’

‘A sauna and a deep muscle massage. Then I’m off to buy
presents for Annie and Lucy.’

‘Kiruna?’ he said vaguely.

‘There’s a gift shop near here that sells wooden toys. On
the road to the church.’

‘Yes, well, don’t spend it all
at once, my dear. See you for cocktails.’ He strolled up the path, patting the
penguins as he went inside.

I lay on the table, half asleep. The
Swedish masseur, a thickset dark-haired man with hands like hams, worked my
back, smoothing away the knots in my muscles.

So Harry thought the entire diary was missing. He couldn’t
have been the one to have torn out the pages then. Unless, of course, he was
bluffing. If he thought I was having little chats with Hallengren, he might
want me to pass on this snippet of information. Was Harry that devious? How
well did I know him? With all that was happening here, how well did I know
anyone?

I closed my eyes and abandoned
myself to the masseur.

The gift shop was the last of a
small cluster of buildings before the bend in the road. It sold clocks, wooden
toys and glassware.

The assistant was wearing the same style of clothes as Marita,
and a knitted wimple hat. ‘Are you staying in Kiruna?’ she said pleasantly,
wrapping my gifts in coloured paper.