Icehotel: Episode 31

He glanced up as I approached. “You couldn’t sleep either, then, Maggie?” He sounded absolutely miserable

We took the window seat near the piano. Liz sat half hidden behind the curtain, her head turned towards the window. Her anxiety had deepened. But then, if I had children, I’d be worrying about what they’d be hearing at school. I squeezed her hand, but there was no response.

Harry was sitting at the baby grand, looking thoughtfully at the keys.

I imagined him in a sparkling gown, like Liberace, raising his hands high before launching into Schubert’s Serenade.

“Will you play for us, Harry?” said Mike. “Alas, dear boy, I can’t. I’ve never learnt.”

“But you’ve one at home,” I said, remembering the piano with its lacquered shine.

“I bought it for one of my boyfriends. He was very good, actually, although he only ever played Scott Joplin. But it didn’t last.

“He left Edinburgh with a rich man, who kept him.” He added, as an afterthought, “I kept the piano.” He closed the lid and took a seat beside Liz.

As Mike fetched the drinks, my thoughts drifted to the interview with Hallengren.

I couldn’t put out of my mind the one thing that bothered me: Harry, a scrupulously honest man, had lied to the police.

Interest

“How did you sleep in the Icehotel, Harry?” I said casually, trying to keep the interest out of my voice.

“Did you hear anything? People moving in the corridor?”

“That’s precisely what the Detective Inspector asked me, dear girl, apart from my name, rank and serial number,” said Harry laughing. “But I didn’t hear a thing.

“Never do in the watches of the night. I was oblivious to everyone and everything, probably because I drank too much in that Ice Bar.”

He winked. “I must find out what they put in Purple Kiss. Do you think it would go down well at my parties?”

Liz’s head jerked round. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Harry, this is hardly the time to think about parties. In case it’s escaped your notice, a man has died.”

His smiled faded. “I’m aware of that, my dear. Yet life goes on.” He put a hand on her arm but she snatched it away. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she said, her voice quivering. “It’s just a bit of a migraine.”

“I’ve got a bottle of tablets upstairs,” I said. “Please don’t bother, Mags. It’s an early night that I need. Will you all excuse me?”

At the door, she collided with Denny Hinckley who was coming into the lounge. He stopped and stared after her, his mouth open.

Harry sighed. “Another who’s smitten. Wherever Liz goes, heads turn like sunflowers.”

But I wasn’t sure it was Liz’s beauty that had stopped Denny in his tracks.

It wasn’t desire I saw in his eyes. It was more like calculation.

I woke earlier than usual on Thursday. I dragged myself out of bed and drew open the curtains. Light lay in strips on the horizon under a slate-coloured sky.

Yesterday’s snow covered the ground in soft dunes, faintly grey in the clouds’ reflection.

I shivered as I watched the men arrive on the river for the ice cutting.

It wasn’t yet 6am. Although the restaurant was open, Liz and Harry would still be asleep.

I considered snuggling back into bed, but taking breakfast now would mean avoiding the reporters.

In the dining room, I nodded to the Ellises who were sitting at the window, eating quietly.

The only other person in the room was Leo Tullis.

Cheerful

He was at the buffet, helping himself to scrambled eggs as though he didn’t want them.

He was wearing chinos and a coffee-coloured shirt, his thatch of fair hair uncombed. Beneath his eyes were large, purple smudges.

He glanced up as I approached. “You couldn’t sleep either, then, Maggie?” He sounded absolutely miserable.

I piled my plate high with reindeer sausages. “I usually wake early. Something to do with long commuting times.”

I tried to inject a cheerful note into my voice. “Are the excursions back on?”

“For God’s sake, don’t talk to me about excursions.” I laid a hand on his arm. “Come and sit with me, Leo,” I said quietly. We took seats out of earshot of the Ellises.

I waited for Leo to speak, but he bent his head over his plate. “So was the bill for the snowmobiles large?” I ventured.

“It’s not the bill. Sven’s insurance is huge. It has to be.” He glanced towards the Ellises and lowered his voice.

“Something’s happened.”

“What?”

He hesitated.

“Tell me, Leo.”

He laid his fork aside. “Sven doesn’t believe it was an accident. He examined the snowmobiles.”

There was an edge of panic to Leo’s voice. “The brakes weren’t on. None of them.”

Harry’s words flew into my head again: What I find strange is that the snowmobiles, which had been checked by an expert, slipped their brakes.

I felt a sudden shiver through my body. “Someone loosened them, Maggie,” said Leo earnestly. “It must have happened after Sven went up to the chalet.”

“How can he be sure? Look, you’ve ridden those machines many times. It would take only a flick of the finger to loosen the brakes.

“If a machine started to slip, that would jolt the brake loose, wouldn’t it? You saw the angle on that slope. It’s the most likely explanation.”

Trembling

“That’s the whole point, though, with that model. If the brakes are on, then the slightest movement causes them to lock firm. Something to do with an extra ratchet.

“Sven explained it, although I can’t say I took it in.” He passed a trembling hand over his face.

“He says there’s no way the brakes could have come loose on their own. No way.”

My mind was reeling. “Then the only explanation – “Someone loosened them deliberately.” He leant forward. “Maggie, I’ll be honest with you.

“This thing is way over my head. And now someone’s died. I don’t know what to do.

“I’m tempted to contact head office, but they’re bound to think I’m not competent to deal with the situation and reassign me.”

An earnest expression came into his eyes. “What would you do in my place?”

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.