ICEHOTEL (31 page)

‘Ah, political intrigue. Mine is Romeo and Juliet.’ His eyes
rose to meet mine. ‘You may find it hard to believe, but I am a great romantic.
So remind me, please, what time does the performance start?’

‘Nine. We’re leaving early to get seats.’

‘And this afternoon? What do you intend to do?’

‘I’m going to stay here.’

But I didn’t want to talk about Shakespeare, or this
afternoon. ‘Inspector, you just said Harry’s killer was nearby. I think I saw
him.’

He drew his brows together. ‘Where?’

‘In the Chapel. Didn’t I tell you? As I came in, I thought I
saw someone behind a pillar.’

‘Could you describe this person?’ he said softly.

‘It was a movement, nothing more, out of the corner of my
eye. When I heard Harry groaning, I forgot everything else.’

‘If the murderer was behind a pillar and saw that Harry was
still alive, he might think Harry would tell you who he was. Or give you some
hint.’

Fear caught at my throat. Here, then, was a possible motive for
the attempt on my life.

Hallengren must have seen the shock on my face, but he
continued. ‘He might assume you would uncover his identity eventually, so he
would be seeking the next opportunity to kill you.’

My stomach clenched. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘Because, Miss Stewart,’ he said, emphasising the words, ‘he
may still be looking for an opportunity to kill you. You need to be aware of
that.’

‘Maybe it wasn’t like that,’ I groaned. ‘Maybe the killer
followed me to the Icehotel, thinking I was someone else. You can’t tell who
people are in these snowsuits.’

He said nothing.

‘Wasn’t there any evidence in the Chapel? He left his
snowsuit behind. Was anyone nearby not wearing one?’

‘There were dozens of guests in the Excelsior without
snowsuits,’ he said gently. ‘And many people, Swedes in particular, go outside
for short periods without one. I am not wearing a snowsuit today, as you can
see.’

‘Perhaps the killer didn’t follow me to the Icehotel.
Perhaps he was already there.’

Hallengren smiled apologetically. ‘And what would the killer
be doing in the Icehotel?’

‘Covering his tracks?’ But I knew I was clutching at straws.

‘There were no tracks to cover, Miss Stewart. Fingerprints
cannot be lifted from compressed snow, footprints from snowboots are all the
same and, anyway, the ground in the Icehotel and Chapel is always well
trampled. Our forensic team found nothing we could use for DNA testing at
either crime scene.’

‘Maybe Denny saw him too,’ I said eagerly.

‘Mr Hinckley?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘The reporter?’

‘I’m sure he was the man I followed to the Icehotel.’

‘I had worked that out for myself, Miss Stewart,’ he said
wryly. ‘Unfortunately, Mr Hinckley seems to have left.’

‘Already?’

‘Early this morning, we think. The maid found his room
empty, and all his personal effects gone. The manager is concerned.’ He
inclined his head. ‘Mr Hinckley left without paying his bill.’

‘Typical,’ I said, smiling. ‘Now that he’s got his precious
photographs, he’s high-tailed it back to Stockholm.’

Hallengren didn’t seem to find the situation amusing. ‘He
will not get far. There are only a limited number of ways he can travel.’

‘You’re not going to arrest him?’

‘Because he deliberately disturbed a crime scene?’ His lips
twitched. ‘That is indeed an arrestable offence.’ He paused, letting the
message sink in. ‘But, no, we won’t arrest him. However, I would like to speak
with him about his escapade in the Icehotel. As you say, he may have seen your
assailant.’

I hesitated. ‘And Wilson’s diary, Inspector? Any leads
there?’

‘The police in Stockholm were most helpful in supplying the
carbons from the missing pages. There was nothing unusual or unexpected. A list
of business appointments with Swedish officials.’

‘I don’t understand.’ I set down my mug. ‘Why would anyone
want a list of business appointments destroyed?’

‘I have no idea, Miss Stewart.’

‘And the final page?’

‘We were not able to get a copy. I am now convinced that
that is the only page the thief wanted to destroy.’

Yes, a thief in a hurry would have grabbed the last few pages
without bothering to read them.

‘And the incident with the snowmobiles?’ I said. ‘Is that
connected to the murders?’

‘Mr Tullis was not able to tell us anything other than the
identity of the people on the path. Given that two of them are dead, it is possible
that was the killer’s first attempt.’

If it was, then he botched it. But he surely wouldn’t expect
to kill two birds with one stone. So which was the intended victim? Harry? Or
Wilson?

‘Miss Stewart, if it was indeed a murder attempt, then
whoever loosened those brakes must have known he might kill the wrong person.
It tells us something about him that he went ahead.’ A note of impatience crept
into his voice. ‘But I have my doubts that it was intentional. The brakes can
easily come loose on that model of snowmobile if it is not serviced regularly.
I have one like it myself.’

I gazed at him. ‘Inspector, do you have any clue at all as
to what’s going on?’

‘There is one possibility we are seriously considering.’ He
looked at me curiously. ‘How much do you know about the Stockholm hotel
killings?’

‘Next to nothing.’

‘It was in spring last year. I was brought in on the case,
as were half the police in Sweden.’ He played with the sugar, sifting it
slowly. ‘The guests were murdered in one of Stockholm’s top hotels, in what
appeared to be random killings. Later that year the same happened in another
hotel. Both were forced to close down because business became so bad. The
profile of the killer was that of a psychopath. He was never caught.’

‘How does one recognise a psychopath?’ I said uneasily.

‘If it were only that simple. Psychopaths are surprisingly
difficult to recognise. They can be charming, manipulative, experienced liars
with a greatly-inflated opinion of themselves. You may not be able to
distinguish them from people you meet every day. I certainly cannot.’

‘Half the people I know are like that.’

‘And, of course, they are highly dangerous. They have no
conscience.’

I took the sugar spoon from his hand. ‘So, what happened in
these hotels?’

‘At first, we thought there were two killers. The killings
in the second hotel were a – how do you say it? – a cat copy of the first.’

‘Copycat.’

‘Copycat. But we concluded it was the same person.’

I felt the fear welling. ‘And you think he’s come here?’ I
said slowly.

‘I can see similarities. In the Maximilian, the first murder
was a drowning in a bath. Then two people were poisoned. The fourth was a woman
who was hacked to death with a meat cleaver. But the last murder was something
I have never – ’

His expression changed and, for the barest instant, I saw
reflected in his eyes, the same fear he must have seen in mine.

I sank back into the sofa, my heart clenching.

‘As I said, Miss Stewart, the killer was never caught. The
trail went cold. The case remains open.’

The Maximilian.

‘Inspector,’ I said, sitting up, ‘one of the Danish guests
here, Jonas Madsen, told me he used to stay regularly at the Maximilian on
business. So – ’ I tailed off, not knowing how to finish.

‘We are of course conducting investigations.’ He smiled
patiently. ‘You will understand why I cannot discuss the details with you.’

I examined my hands, feeling foolish. I was glad now that I
hadn’t told him about seeing Jonas at the Ice Theatre. Liz was right, it wasn’t
proof of anything. And I was coming to the conclusion I might have been wrong,
and the figure watching me, whoever he was, had had no malicious intentions.

‘Who were these people who were murdered in Stockholm?’ I
said.

‘We looked for a link, but there was little to go on. The
only thing they had in common is that they were businessmen or financiers. The
hotels catered for businessmen, so it may not be significant. We established
that two of them knew each other but, again, that is unsurprising given the
nature of their business.’ The furrows on his forehead deepened. ‘When Wilson
Bibby was murdered, we thought the killer had struck again. Bibby’s programme
with schools has been widely publicised. There cannot be many people who do not
know he was in Sweden last week.’

‘Why would anyone want to kill a bunch of businessmen? And
in such terrible ways?’

‘We asked ourselves the same question,’ he said dryly.

‘And what about Harry? He wasn’t a businessman.’

‘Which is why I am less inclined to believe that the hotel
killer has come to the Icehotel.’

‘But he is still killing again,’ I said softly. ‘In
Stockholm.’

‘The American whose neck was broken?’ He nodded. ‘We think
so.’

He turned his body round and looked directly at me. ‘Miss
Stewart, there is something you need to understand.’ His voice was hard.
‘Whether the Stockholm hotel killer has come to the Icehotel is not the point.
There is a murderer on the loose here. I will be issuing guidelines to Mr
Tullis today. You should all be careful about what you say, and to whom you say
it. And you, Miss Stewart, should not be alone at any time. Will you promise me
that?’

‘You think the killer is coming after me,’ I said, my voice
wavering.

‘Or he may have another victim in mind and see your – how
shall I put it? – amateur investigations as an impediment.’

‘But this has nothing to do with me. I never met Wilson
before this week. How could he be after me?’ I caught my breath. ‘I refuse to
believe this.’

He gripped my shoulders. ‘Believe it, or do not believe it,
but promise me you will be careful.’ His face was so close I could see the
purple flecks in his irises.

‘Very well,’ I said faintly. ‘I promise.’

He released me, and got to his feet. He dropped coins onto
the counter, nodding to the barman who’d been watching with curiosity. Then,
without a backward glance, he left the room.

I curled into the sofa, and clutched at the cushions, burying
my face in their softness.

I threw the cushions aside and set
up the chess board, reconstructing one of my favourite games, the 1918 match
between Capablanca and Frank Marshall. I drank my s
weet
coffee,
moving the pieces automatically
.

Hall
engren’s words played
in my mind like a broken record:
The killer would have been close by.

A sound made me look up.

He was in the doorway, watching me. I took in every detail:
the huge bulk, the black hooded snowsuit. And the ice-axe in his hand. An
ice-axe, which he was holding firmly by the shaft.

He took a step towards me. I scanned the room, searching
helplessly for the barman. Snatches of laughter drifted in from the kitchen. He
came closer. I tried to lever myself up, thinking I might make a run for it,
but my limbs refused to move. He reached the table. Another second, and the axe
would smash through my skull. In that moment, the spectre of Harry’s mutilated
body rose before me, the wounds on display like dishes at his Sunday buffets,
and I nearly passed out with fear.

‘Maggie?’ The Irish accent was unmistakable. In a single
flowing movement, he raised his hand and pulled off the mask. ‘You should see
yourself, you’ve gone a whiter shade of pale.’

The barman breezed in and busied himself washing glasses.

Liz arrived. ‘So this is where you are, Mags,’ she said,
smiling. ‘You’ve no idea how relieved I am. Leo told us at breakfast what had
happened to you. It must have been absolutely dreadful.’ She reached across and
squeezed my fingers. ‘Golly, your hands are like ice.’

I let her blow on my fingers, pressing myself into the sofa,
unable to take my eyes off Mike.

‘We wanted to come straightaway,’ she was saying, ‘but Hallengren
had given strict instructions not to let you be disturbed. I saw the policeman
outside your room.’ She glanced at the table, and a frown of annoyance crossed
her face. ‘And here you are, playing chess as though nothing’s happened.’

Mike stepped smartly out of his suit. ‘For the love o’ God,
Maggie, what were you doing out there? We thought you’d gone to bed.’

I nearly told them about Denny, the figure with the ice-axe,
the whole bloody lot. But something stopped me.

They were waiting for an answer.

‘I went to watch the aurora.’ I tried to sound convincing
. ‘
I got too close to the edge and stepped into the
water. Stupid of me. Fortunately, there were people there.’

They exchanged glances but didn’t press me, and I wondered
what else they’d heard.

‘Have you seen Hallengren?’ said Liz.

‘Just now.’

‘And what did he say about going for little walks on the ice
at night?’ she said sternly.

I chewed my thumb. ‘He let me have it. Both barrels.’

‘You and your auroras, Mags. You were damned lucky, you
know. If you’d been alone – ’

I glanced at Mike. He was
twirling the ski mask on the end of his finger.

We were in the restaurant, finishing
lunch.

‘Would you girls like to do something this afternoon?’ said
Mike. ‘The excursions have been cancelled again.’

Before I could reply, Leo Tullis arrived with Jane.

‘How are you doing, Maggie?’ he said anxiously.

I smiled, wanting to reassure him. ‘Nothing a good night’s
sleep couldn’t cure.’

There was a slight flush on Jane’s cheeks. ‘I’ve been
feeling bad all morning. If I hadn’t rung you and told you about the aurora,
you’d never have fallen into the water.’

‘For heaven’s sake,’ I said playfully, ‘it’s not your fault.
I’m a big girl, now. I make my own decisions.’ I felt like adding:
And my
own mistakes.