ICEHOTEL (28 page)

‘Would it kill you to listen to me for one moment?’ I said
angrily. ‘Of course I don’t have the proof. Or the motive.’ I hesitated. ‘I’m
not even sure it was Jonas.’

‘Then, under the circs, I’d keep quiet, if I were you.
Hallengren isn’t going to take kindly to wild, unsubstantiated accusations. And
neither is Jonas,’ she added meaningfully.

I paused, struck by the force of her argument.

‘Look, Mags, I’m sorry if I sounded harsh.’

‘Are you?’ I said, turning away.

‘You’re not yourself. It’s understandable after what you’ve
been through. You’re tired. We’re all tired.’

‘You think I’m imagining it, don’t you?’ I blurted.

She sighed theatrically. ‘All right then, if it’ll make you
feel better, go and tell Hallengren. I’ll come with you, if you like. But I
would just give him the facts. Don’t jump to conclusions in front of him. Men,
specially detectives, hate it when you try to outsmart them.’

‘So what’s the quickest way?’

‘Gosh, right now?’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I think it’ll
be the courtesy bus. It’s a pity you didn’t tell me this earlier. We could have
shared with Mike. He’s just gone in by cab.’

‘Mike’s gone to Kiruna?’ I said in dismay. Despite my
misgivings about him, I thought Mike at least would have had more faith in me.

‘He said he’s maxed out on these winter sports, and wants a
change of scene. He heard there’s a small casino in Kiruna.’ She looked at me
anxiously. ‘Mags, when we get there, do you think you could persuade Hallengren
to return my passport? He’d listen to you if you told him, that, well, you know
. . .’

She was desperate to get back to the twins. I felt suddenly
exhausted. Why raise her hopes? It would be futile to speak to Hallengren. He
wouldn’t let her or anyone else leave until he’d solved his case. And he’d be
furious if I wasted his time with some nonsense about Jonas.

‘I’ve changed my mind, Liz,’ I said without preamble.

She smiled faintly. ‘Well, that was quick.’

‘I think you may be right about Jonas.’

‘Fine, Mags, whatever. It’s really up to you.’ She sounded
deeply disappointed.

‘I need to warm up. Tell you what, come to the lounge and we
can play scrabble or something.’

‘Later maybe.’ The sadness returned to her face. ‘I might go
to the computer room. Perhaps I’ll catch the twins.’

I watched her go, hoping for
her sake that, whatever Hallengren was doing to solve the case, he’d do it
quickly.

The lounge was empty except for the
Danes. Jonas was at the bar, waving a full beer glass around, and spattering
his companions with flecks of foam.

All conversation stopped as I entered.

I took my hot chocolate to the seat nearest the door,
avoiding their eyes.

A minute later, a shadow fell across the table. ‘May we join
you?’

I glanced up. Erik was pulling out a chair. He sat down
without waiting for an answer. Jonas took the chair on my other side. He was
looking at me with a serious expression. The door seemed suddenly far away.

‘We are sorry about your friend,’ Erik said. ‘Finding him
like that must have been terrible for you.’

They unbuttoned their black snowsuits and opened them out,
revealing jeans and fishermen’s sweaters.

‘If there is anything we can do, then please just say,’ said
Jonas. ‘Perhaps you would like a trip into Kiruna. We don’t have to wait for
the bus. We could go by taxi.’

Erik said something in Danish. Jonas nodded and pulled a mobile
from his jeans.

‘I don’t want to go to Kiruna,’ I said, unable to tear my
eyes from Jonas’s snowsuit.

He put the phone down slowly. His face brightened. ‘Have you
been on a husky-ride yet? I have a friend who runs a kennel. He can take us.’
He hesitated. ‘Would you like that?’

The Danes at the bar were watching silently.

I was shaking so badly, I was spilling the hot chocolate. I
couldn’t stay here. I glanced at the door, wondering what would happen if I
made a run for it.

‘Are you cold?’ Jonas said, concern in his voice. ‘You’re
trembling.’

He placed a gentle paw over my hand, hunching his shoulders
the way he’d done in the Ice Theatre.

Fear hit me like bolts of lightning. I jerked my arm away
and jumped to my feet. ‘Don’t touch me,’ I breathed.

His face wore a startled expression. ‘But I was just . . .’
He made to rise but Erik put a restraining hand on his arm.

‘Keep away from me,’ I said, stumbling over the words.

I turned and ran from the room.

I grabbed a snowsuit and boots and rushed out of the Excelsior,
skating past the ice penguins who stared up in surprise. When I reached the
clown, I stopped for breath, and leant against him, shivering with cold.
Shaking out the snowsuit, I clambered awkwardly into it.

Dusk had softened the edges of the buildings. I sat at the
clown’s feet and watched the shadows deepen. The falling snow made the distance
to the Icehotel seem greater than it was.

‘Who’s the killer, Charlie?’ I glanced up. ‘You know who it
is, don’t you?’

The clown watched the ballerina, his arms high above the
drum, ice tears glistening on his cheeks. I dragged myself to my feet and
wrapped my arms around him. ‘Tell me,’ I whispered. ‘Tell me who it is.’

For an instant, I thought I saw his head move, but it was a
trick of the light.

I held my hand against his cheek, and felt a sudden rush of
warmth. The tears had dissolved under my fingers. I lifted them to my lips,
startled by the unexpected taste of salt.

The snow was falling heavily now. I thrust my hands deep
into my pockets and gazed into the clown’s eyes.

And I asked myself again: Why had Jonas been watching me?

After dinner, I sat in the lounge
with Liz, although neither of us felt like socialising. She was tearful,
talking first about Harry, then about the twins. After a while, Mike joined us,
but his banter appealed less to me than it did to her. I listened to his
attempts at flirting, grateful his attention was directed elsewhere.

My thoughts turned once again to Harry. They would have
finished the post-mortem. God knows, it wasn’t necessary, the cause of death
was obvious. What more was Hallengren expecting to find? I tried to imagine
Harry dissected, his brains packing the scales, but all I saw was his ruined
body
spreadeagled
on the Chapel floor.

Leo came and sat with us. His face was gaunt and he looked
as though he hadn’t slept for days. ‘How are you doing, Maggie?’ he said.

I forced a smile. ‘Right at this moment, better than you
are.’

‘I doubt that. I wasn’t the one who found Harry.’ He
stiffened. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean – ’

‘It’s all right, Leo.’ I squeezed his arm. ‘Hang on in
there. Come on, have a drink with me.’

He sipped his beer, unable to keep up his end of the
conversation. I was glad when he excused himself and left.

The atmosphere remained restrained; the Danes were nowhere
to be seen. The reporters were huddled at the bar, Denny Hinckley amongst them.
I was relieved he made no attempt to come over. Some guests smiled
sympathetically at me, but turned away when I met their gaze; others spoke in
hushed tones, throwing veiled glances in my direction. After an hour of this,
I’d had enough. I finished my coffee, said my goodnights, and left.

I ran into Jonas and Erik. They were still in their black
snowsuits, and were heading for the Activities Room. Jonas’s lips tightened
when he saw me, but he said nothing, just nodded courteously and stepped back
to let me pass. I put my head down and hurried to my room.

I lay on the bed, fully clothed, picking through the events
of the afternoon, specifically Jonas’s behaviour. Strange how attentive he’d
been to my welfare, suggesting a trip into Kiruna, or husky riding. Could I
have been wrong, and the figure at the Ice Theatre was someone else? But who?

The phone rang, grating my nerves.

‘Maggie, it’s Jane.’ Her voice sounded tinny and far away.
‘We’re going on the river to see the aurora. Everyone’s here, Jim and Robyn
too. We thought you might fancy coming along. I’ve had a quick peek and it’s
stopped snowing. The sky’s clear, but it might not stay like that for long.’

The aurora was the last thing on my mind. But their kindness
touched me. ‘I’m not sure, Jane . . .’

‘Well, have a think about it. If you do decide to join us,
we’ll be taking the path between the Icehotel and the Chapel. There are ten in
the group. You won’t miss us.’

‘Are you going now?’

‘Everyone’s in the foyer.’ A pause. ‘I hope you can make it,
but I’ll understand if you don’t want to.’ She rang off.

I continued to lie on the bed, cradling the phone. The
television clock told me it was only 11.00pm. I was wide awake and unlikely to
get to sleep. Fresh air would help. I replaced the receiver, and left the room.

A faint murmuring, punctuated by laughter, came from the
lounge. So not everyone was out. I wondered whether Jonas and Erik would be on
the aurora watch or, as I suspected, they’d bedded themselves in for another
night in the bar. I crept away, anxious not to be seen, the laughter swelling
and fading as I passed the room.

I pushed against the door to the Activities Room, and
stepped into darkness. That was odd, the light was always on. I ran a hand over
the wall, groping for the switch, but couldn’t find it. No matter. A little
faint light was coming in through the windows.

The racks of clothes fell away, disappearing into the
shadows. I fumbled around in the gloom for the extra-thick snowsuits and chose
one at random. A
minute later, I’d fetched boots and
gloves.

I was sitting on a bench, pulling on a ski mask, when I
heard the door open. I froze. Another aurora watcher? Without knowing why, I
crept to the nearest rack and climbed into it.

Whoever had entered was in a hurry. He didn’t bother with
the light switch. He paused for a second, then walked purposefully towards the
racks. I dropped to my knees, feeling the blood pulsing through my temples. I
parted the snowsuits carefully and peered out. A pair of boots marched past.

I sank back, my heart thumping wildly. I was being
ridiculous. This was someone getting dressed for the aurora.

But the ice-axe that had butchered Harry – this was where
the killer had come to fetch it.

Suddenly, the rack began to shake. There was a rustling,
followed a moment later by the heavy creak of a bench. He’d taken a snowsuit
and had sat down to remove his boots.

I slipped out of the rack on the
side away from him and edged
towards the exit, ready to make a dash for
it if I had to. I pulled open the door as quietly as I could, and nearly fell
into the corridor.

I padded quickly towards the foyer. Halfway there, something
made me look back. The door to the Activities Room was swinging. Had I done
that? Or had he followed me out? I glanced around. The corridor was deserted.

I stole past the reception, instinctively turning away from
the man on the desk.

‘Are you going to watch the northern lights, Miss Stewart?’
he said, smiling happily. ‘The party has just left. You should see them from
the door.’

I nodded, fastening the hood securely. I wondered whether I
should ask for a torch. But I wouldn’t need one; there should be enough ambient
light. I drew on my gloves, pushed open the front door, and stepped out.

The freezing air filled my lungs, settling
like fog. It would be minus fifteen tonight. I was getting good at estimating
the air temperature. I scanned the sky. It had snowed earlier, but there were
no clouds now and, despite the light from the Excelsior, the aurora was faintly
visible.

In my hurry, I collided with the penguins.
I lost my footing and slithered down the path, bringing myself to a stop by
grabbing the ballerina’s outstretched arm. I peered at the circus statues. The
snow lay at bizarre angles on their heads and arms, sparkling in the reflected
light, ready to fall at the merest touch. I had the strangest sensation that
they were coming to life, and the whole ghostly company would follow me to the
river.

I took the path through the trees, my steps
creaking in the new snow. The ground was strewn with tiny crystals, winking in
the feeble light, and the temptation to kick them into a glittering arc was
almost irresistible.

Ahead of me was the crowd of watchers. The
night air was so still that their voices carried clearly.

They had just reached the path beside the
Chapel, when a dark figure detached itself from the group. He hung back,
waiting until the others had disappeared, then turned and moved stealthily
towards the Icehotel. He was in a crouch, but it was impossible not to
recognise
the bandy legs and jockey’s build. I watched from behind a tree. He
dropped under the cordon and, on reaching the main doors, bent to examine the
taped-up handles. So that was it: Denny
Hinckley
was
going to get his photographs if it killed him.

He straightened, then wheeled round and
stared in my direction. I felt a pricking on the backs of my hands. He must
have heard me, or perhaps he sensed my presence. A shutter closed with a bang
in one of the upstairs windows. He turned away, apparently satisfied.

He moved silently past the Icehotel, then,
all
pretence
at stealth gone, walked confidently to the
Locker Room. Something about his swagger made me suspect he wouldn’t be letting
a little thing like taped handles stand in his way. The sensible thing would
have been to leave quietly. Instead, I decided to follow him.

I stole through the trees and, with a final
furtive glance around, crept into the Locker Room. A faint square of light from
the window lay like an open mouth on the giant molehill of sleeping bags. I
hurried through the washroom, and crossed the passageway to the Icehotel.
Strangely, the handles at the side hadn’t been taped, surely an oversight on
Hallengren’s part. So much for Swedish efficiency, I thought, smiling to
myself. I pulled at the antlers and stepped inside.