The pieces were falling into place. I glanced at Hallengren but his attention was on Karlsson

Hallengren grabbed the phone. A minute later, the duty policeman entered. Hallengren spoke briefly, showing him the sheet, and the man left running. “I have sent for the receptionist who was on duty on Monday. Perhaps now we will get to the bottom of this mystery.” He poured, watching me. “I would drink this, Miss Stewart. You may be glad of it by the time we have finished.”

Hallengren’s expression was composed, almost sympathetic. He marched over to the whiteboard, and stood thoughtfully for a minute.

Then his pen moved quickly over the surface. My mind was in a whirl but, after the quantity of brandy I’d drunk, I was in no condition to work anything out. I sat down and settled back to wait.

A while later, there was a knock at the door and the duty policeman entered with the receptionist. I recognised the man with the round glasses who’d been on the Excelsior desk all week.

He was agitated and licked his lips repeatedly. I felt sorry for him; Hallengren had a talent for making even innocent people nervous.

“Please sit down, Mr Karlsson,” Hallengren said, motioning to a chair.

Friendly

The man placed a folder on the table, straightening it with little taps of the hand.

“Mr Karlsson,” Hallengren said, keeping his tone friendly, “I need you to explain something that is puzzling me. How are rooms allocated in the Excelsior and the Icehotel?”

The man looked bewildered, glancing from Hallengren to me and back again.

“There is no secret to it. Guests are allocated the same number in both hotels. It makes it easy for them to remember.”

Hallengren smiled encouragingly. “And how are guests notified of their number?”

“When they check in, we give them their key.” Karlsson lifted a finger, as though to command our attention. “For tours we vary the procedure. Rather than have them queue at reception, we leave the key in their door and post a list on the noticeboard.” “In the foyer?”

“Yes.”

“What happens to that list?”

“It’s taken down the following day and kept until the end of the week. Then I give it to the tour guide as a record of who stayed in which room. “Some tours issue commemorative certificates.” “You still have the list?”

“I was asked to bring it,” the man said. He drew a sheet from his folder and handed it to Hallengren.

Hallengren scanned it, his face expressionless. “Mr Karlsson, when we were called to the Excelsior after the discovery of Wilson Bibby’s body, the manager gave me a list of names and room numbers of the Icehotel’s occupants.”

He held out the computer printout from his own file. “As you can see, it does not quite match the list you posted in the foyer.”

Karlsson took the sheet and stared at it, his hands trembling. There was a faint sheen on his forehead. “I can’t see –”

“Rooms 15 and 17, Mr Karlsson,” Hallengren said patiently.

Objected

There was a stir of recognition in the man’s eyes. “I remember now,” he said, relief in his voice. “Originally, we assigned Room 17 to Mr Bibby – Mr Wilson Bibby – and Room 15 to Professor Auchinleck. But later that day –”

“Which day?” Hallengren interrupted. “Monday, Inspector, the day the tour party arrived.”

Hallengren nodded to him to proceed.

“On Monday afternoon, Mr Wilson Bibby asked to have his room changed. He explained he was a light sleeper. His room at the Excelsior was above the lounge and he was afraid the noise would keep him awake.

“So I put him in Room 15, which is the quietest.” He paused, blinking rapidly. “Room 15 was Professor Auchinleck’s. I saw the Professor later that afternoon and asked if he objected to a room change.

“He seemed willing to oblige, he didn’t even ask who the guest was. He said he was a sound sleeper, and didn’t mind which room he had.

“I explained then, as I’d explained to Mr Bibby, that this meant the rooms in the Icehotel would also be swapped. So Professor Auchinleck would be in Room 17 in both hotels and Mr Bibby, in Room 15.”

The pieces were falling into place. I glanced at Hallengren but his attention was on Karlsson. The man took our silence as a signal to continue.

“I instructed my staff to move the luggage. And then I logged the change on the computer.”

“Which is why it showed on the printout,” said Hallengren.

“Exactly.” Karlsson removed his glasses and polished them with a handkerchief.

“So how do you explain the discrepancy between the printout and the list in the foyer, Mr Karlsson?”

The smile vanished. He stared at Hallengren. “The list?” he stammered. “It seems that you did not make the same change on the noticeboard.”

He looked from Hallengren to me, then back to Hallengren, a stricken expression on his face. “I must confess that I did not. But there was no need, because both Professor Auchinleck and Mr Bibby knew where they would be sleeping.”

He smiled apologetically. “They will get the wrong certificates from Mr Tullis, of course.”

I looked away. The only certificates they were getting now were from the coroner. Hallengren took the sheets. “I will have to retain these for my records.”

“Of course. I understand.” Sweat was trickling into the man’s eyes. “May I go now?”

Helpful

“Thank you, Mr Karlsson. You have been most helpful.” He picked up the folder and almost ran from the room. Hallengren looked amused. “So we have been at cross purposes, Miss Stewart. Is that the correct phrase – cross purposes?”

“It’s the correct phrase,” I replied automatically. My mind was in turmoil. The rooms had been swapped. So what did it mean?

He picked up the bottle. “Let us examine the facts. Shortly after you saw Marcellus Bibby outside the Locker Room, you saw a man come out of Room 15. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“You are certain it was Room 15? Yes?”

“Yes.”

“And you assumed the man was Harry, thinking it was his room.”

“Yes.”

“You called out to him, but he did not reply.” “But I know he heard,” I said emphatically. “He paused, then carried on walking. And he didn’t turn round.”

“Why did you think it was Harry, apart from believing that he came out of Harry’s room?”

“He was a big man, Harry’s build, and he wore a blue snowsuit. Harry always wore blue. And he had on the same woollen hat.”

More tomorrow.

Icehotel, available on Amazon Kindle, is Hania Allen’s debut novel. Her second book, The Polish Detective (Constable, £8.99), is the first in her new series featuring DS Dania Gorska and is set in Dundee.