Icehotel: Episode 44

Aaron Vandenberg looked like a man who’d had more than one brush with the law

In the lounge, Mike left me to fetch our drinks. Denny Hinckley peeled away from his friends and ambled over. He lowered himself into a chair. “What’s this about, Maggie?” He licked his lips. “What was Sherlock looking for?” “I don’t know,” I said quietly. “I saw you talking to him,” he said in a provocative tone. I wondered where he’d been when I was with Hallengren and what he’d overheard. Nothing, I decided, or he wouldn’t be needling me now. “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 warned 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 threw his parting words into the air. “Maybe even a weight lifter.”

Bombshell

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 final comment about the weight lifter.

What had he been implying? Every male in the Excelsior seemed to be into weight lifting. Perhaps he’d simply wanted to rattle me.

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 toss about that. Marcellus and I weren’t at dinner.” He spoke with more control. “He should have waited until we were there.”

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

Above board

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 round the foyer. “Is Marcellus here?” “Why do you want to know?” Aaron 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?”

Missing page

“He said nothing. But they searched everywhere. Even the kitchens. I should say, especially 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.

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

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.