Harry was killed with an ice axe, during the day, in the chapel where anyone could have walked in

Are you going?” I said, watching him clamber into his snowsuit. It was a stupid question, but I asked it anyway. “Would you feel safer if I posted an officer outside?” I nodded, disappointed he wasn’t going to stay himself. “Very well.” He drew on his gloves. “Now try to get some sleep.”

He stared at me. Then he left.

I woke with a start. Someone had drawn back the curtains and light was flooding the room, daubing a wash of brightness on the floor. Dust particles floated in the thin shafts, disappearing whenever a cloud hid the sun, only to reappear and drift aimlessly.

I peered at the television: it was 11.05am. I showered quickly, running the water hot. I was towelling my hair when my glance fell on the white snowsuit lying over the back of the chair.

I left my room, nearly falling over the young man sitting dozing behind the door. He jumped up in surprise. Another giant. I took in his blue uniform, and the array of coffee cups on the floor.

“I’m going to the lounge,” I said.

He nodded, rubbing his eyes.

I smiled. “Does this mean you can go?”

“My orders were to stay until you left.”

“You drew the short straw, then.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just an expression. Thanks for looking after me.” He smiled shyly. “It is my job.”

Connection

The lounge was empty except for the barman. He was standing behind the counter, whistling and polishing glasses. I ordered coffee and a croissant and took them to the sofa by the window.

I thought through the events of the previous week, trying to make sense of them. Someone had killed Wilson Bibby. Someone had killed Harry. And someone had tried to kill me. Were Wilson’s and Harry’s deaths related? And was the person who’d killed Harry the same person who’d tried to kill me? There was the ice axe connection, but anyone could take an ice axe from the Activities Room. Two different people could have done it.

No one had followed me to the Icehotel, so the black-suited figure must already have been there. I’d surprised him and he felt he had to kill me in case I could identify him. Yet what was he doing there? Was he Wilson’s murderer come back to the scene of the crime? But why? To wipe out clues? Then why would he be carrying an ice axe? And he hadn’t run after Denny. He’d run after me, as though he knew who I was under my hood.

I swirled the croissant in the coffee, watching the flakes crumble off. If I hadn’t been so lost in my thoughts, I’d have seen him come in. I jumped when I heard the voice.

“Miss Stewart.” Hallengren had shaved and was in his uniform. “How are you feeling this morning?” “Medium rare,” I said, smiling.

He smiled back. “May I join you?”

I motioned to the chair opposite.

He turned his head and looked at the barman. A second later, the barman hurried over with a double espresso.

Hallengren studied my face. “Did you get any sleep after I left?”

“A little.”

He nodded sympathetically.

“Inspector, what’s happening here? Two people have been murdered, and last night someone tried to kill me. Do you think it’s the same person?”

He lifted the cup to his lips. “It is possible that there is more than one killer.”

“Okay, but how do you make that out?”

He looked at me speculatively. “Have you considered the different ways in which Wilson Bibby and Professor Auchinleck were killed? Wilson’s murder was meticulously planned.

“Someone drugged him and waited until the middle of the night to push him out of his sleeping bag. Harry was killed with an ice axe, during the day, in the chapel where anyone could have walked in. It could not have been less planned.”

Expression

He set down the cup. “In your testimony you stated that Harry was alive when you found him. Given the nature of his wounds, it means that the killer would have been close by, so ” He looked hard at me, and his expression changed.

The killer would have been close by.

A shiver ran through my body. The killer had still been in the chapel. He could have butchered me too. And Liz. I watched helplessly as my mug shook and coffee spilt on to the table.

Hallengren reached across and took the mug from my hands. Then everything went black round the edges. I heard the table being pushed away and a chair overturn with a clatter. A second later, he was on the sofa, forcing my head between my knees. I swallowed repeatedly, willing myself not to faint, staring at a spot on the carpet until my head cleared.

He pulled me up gently, leaving his arm round my shoulders. His face was so close I could smell the coffee on his breath.

“Are you all right?” There was concern in his eyes. “I think so,” I stammered.

The barman was fussing, pulling the chair upright, mopping the spilt liquid. Hallengren looked at him and he slunk off.

“Breathe deeply,” he said, squeezing my shoulders encouragingly.

The desire to lean against him was overwhelming. “You need more rest, Miss Stewart.” He released me. “What are you doing today?”

“We’ve no plans, except for tonight. It’s Macbeth, in the Ice Theatre. I saw the rehearsal but my mind wasn’t really on it, so I’d like to see it again.”

The barman had brought more coffee.

Wincing

“I had forgotten,” Hallengren said, spooning sugar into my mug. “Shakespeare is always on a Sunday. Are you a fan of Shakespeare?”

I took the mug and sipped, wincing at the sweetness. “Isn’t everyone?”

“So which is your favourite?” he said lightly. “Probably Hamlet. Or Julius Caesar.”

“Ah, political intrigue. Mine is Romeo and Juliet.” He looked at me for a long moment. “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 out of the corner of my eye. Nothing more. 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 have concluded that Harry told you who he was. Or given you some hint.”

More tomorrow.