ICEHOTEL (32 page)

She seemed grateful for my answer. ‘So, are you going to the
play?’

‘Macbeth?’

Her expression changed to one of shock. ‘The Scottish play,
Maggie. You should never call it by its name.’

‘I rather think I’ve had all the bad luck I’m going to get,
Jane,’ I said, forcing a laugh.

She looked rattled, and unconvinced by my answer. I could
see she wanted to leave. She glanced questioningly at Leo, who nodded.

They were moving away when Leo said, ‘I meant to ask, have
any of you seen Denny Hinckley?’

‘The reporter?’ said Mike, not looking up.

‘I lent him my brochure on the Icehotel, and I’d like it
back.’

‘You’re out of luck,’ I said. ‘I understand he’s left.’

‘What do you mean?’ Leo said sharply.

‘He’s gone AWOL. And he didn’t settle his bill.’

Liz glared at Leo. ‘How is it that he’s got his passport
back, and we’re still here? That’s not very fair.’

‘I don’t know anything about his passport,’ he said, tugging
at his hair. ‘Maybe the press didn’t have to surrender theirs.’

But the police hadn’t let the press leave, as they were around
when Harry was murdered. They were marooned like the rest of us.

Liz’s glare had intensified. ‘Look, Leo, Denny can’t
possibly have left the hotel without his passport, so he must have had it
returned. Either that or he’s still here somewhere.’

‘He had more than one,’ Jane said timidly.

We stared at her.

‘From the way he said it, I think at least one of them was a
forgery.’ She smiled nervously, as though this were somehow her fault. ‘He
bragged about being able to get out of trouble faster than he got into it.’

Mike grinned. ‘The sly dog. But in this case I don’t think
it’s trouble that’s made him do a runner. He’s legged it to avoid paying his
bar bill. I saw how much he put away.’ He shook his head. ‘That man’s got Irish
blood in him somewhere.’

‘About our passports, Leo,’ Liz said wearily, ‘is there
really nothing you can do to persuade the Inspector to let us go home? He can’t
keep us here much longer. Murder investigations can go on for months, can’t
they? What about all that awful paperwork he’ll have to keep filling out if we
stay?’

‘Everyone keeps asking me that. When I next see the
Inspector, I’ll put the question to him.’

‘Do you know how far they’ve got with catching Harry’s
killer?’ said Mike.

‘We may learn something at the next press release.’

‘Which will be when?’ said Liz, running a hand over her
hair.

‘Can’t tell you, I’m afraid.’ He glanced at his watch.
‘Sorry, but I’ve got to run.’

After they’d gone, Mike said, ‘So, ladies? This afternoon?’

‘I need to go into Kiruna, to the coroner’s office,’ Liz
said. ‘There are some final things that need doing.’ It was Liz who’d been
dealing with the paperwork over Harry’s body.

‘But they must be closed on a Sunday,’ Mike said.

‘They told me they’d open the office. I rather think they
want to get it over with as quickly as I do. They gave me a time, half past
four. I thought of going now and doing a spot of shopping. What about you,
Mags? How are you feeling?’

They were watching me.

‘Look, you don’t need to keep tiptoeing around me,’ I said.
‘We should make an effort. It’s what Harry would have wanted. So tonight we’re
going to see the play. The Scottish play.’

There was an awkward pause. ‘And Kiruna, Mags? Is that
something you’d like to do?’

I was tired, and about to decline, when I remembered
Hallengren’s warning about not being alone. What safer place than in the centre
of town, surrounded by people?

‘Let’s go,’ I said firmly. ‘Now.’

She looked surprised at this show of assertiveness. ‘Fine,
then, we can take the courtesy bus. Are you coming, Mike?’

He was peeling an orange. ‘I’ll give it a miss, I think.’ A
slow smile spread across his face. ‘I know what it’s like when girls go
shopping.’

‘What are you going to do instead?’ I asked lightly

He was arranging the orange segments into a star pattern. ‘I
haven’t decided. I went ice-climbing this morning. I may try snow-shoeing, then
I can cross it off my list of winter sports.’

‘Let’s go then, Mags,’ Liz said sulkily. She drained her
espresso. ‘Oh, and we’ll need snowsuits.’

At the mention of snowsuits, I
glanced at the black suit draped across Mike’s chair. He saw me looking and
stared back silently, eating the orange segments, one by one.

We were leaving the Excelsior when I
saw the notice.

‘Liz, there’s another aurora tonight.’ I scanned the text.
‘It’s supposed to be magnificent. The best yet.’

‘You really can’t be serious, Mags. After your escapade last
night, do you think anyone will let you back onto that river?’

‘Pity there’s nowhere else.’

‘Can’t you watch it from your window?’

‘The trees get in the way.’ I gazed at the photograph of the
ice-cream colours swirling into the velvet sky.

‘There’s the church tower,’ she said hesitantly. ‘It’s
awfully high. Gosh, but think of the view.’ She shook her head firmly. ‘It’s
out of the question, though.’

‘Too right. Only a lunatic would go up there when there’s an
axe murderer running loose.’ I took her arm. ‘Come on. Let’s get to Kiruna.’

A queue had formed at the bus stop; the cancelled
excursions, and the realisation this might be the last opportunity for
shopping, must have accounted for Kiruna’s sudden popularity. Jonas and his
friends were there, dressed in black, larking about and shoving each other.
They wore ski masks, but there was no mistaking their voices. I pulled my hood
up and turned away, not wanting them to see me.

The bus dropped us at the park on the outskirts of town. I
studied the map; the quickest way to the centre was through the park itself.

Kiruna had been built on several hills, a strange decision
for a town snowbound for most of the year. The trees had been brushed clean,
and strings of fat lanterns, like miniature Cinderella carriages, hung from the
branches. We made for the exit, clinging to each other, losing our footing despite
the tread in our snowboots.

After a while, we came to a residential a
rea.

‘We’ve gone wrong somewhere,’ I said, scrutinising the map.
‘We should be in town by now.’

I swung round to get my bearings, and saw a figure in a
black
snowsuit
step smartly out of sight.

Liz took the map from me. ‘We turned too soon,
Mags
,’ she said. ‘It should have been the third left, not the
second.’

I decided to say nothing. As we retraced our steps, I
glanced down the side road. It was empty.

We reached the town centre, and strolled down the high
street, taking in the shops. But the black figure had given me a shock, and I
couldn’t rid myself of the feeling we were being stalked. Every so often, I
glanced over my shoulder. After a while, I saw him again, sauntering a respectable
distance behind us, looking into shop windows.

I told myself I was being
ridiculous. Many people wore black
snows
uits. I
t might be Mike, having changed his mind, coming to
join us. Except Mike wouldn’t be dawdling. He’d have caught us up by now.

We were outside a café. ‘I could do with something hot,
Liz,’ I said. ‘My knee’s throbbing.’

‘Of course,’ she said quickly.

I pulled open the door. The thick warm air, scented with
vanilla and cinnamon, wrapped itself around me like a blanket.

I steered Liz to a window. ‘That was some news about Denny
doing a runner,’ I said, gazing out. ‘I thought journalists are on expenses.’

‘Only if they’re with a paper, I think.’

‘He worked for the Express, didn’t he?’

‘Really? I didn’t know.’

I dragged my eyes from the window. ‘Yes, you did. Mike told
us.’

‘Anyway, Denny Hinckley never talked to me,’ she said,
running a fingernail over the yellow tablecloth.

‘You’re lucky,’ I smiled. ‘He talked to everyone else.’ I
sipped my chocolate. ‘I just don’t get it, though. Why would he do a bunk if
the Express are paying his expenses? There must have been some other reason.’

‘You’re not saying now that he killed Harry, are you?’ There
was a trace of irritation in her voice.

‘Of course not. I just find it strange, that’s all.’
Denny’s
words came back to me:
I
have to find a big story. I can’t afford to let the grass grow under my
feet.
‘
A
journalist leaves before the case of a murdered millionaire is solved? It
doesn’t wash.’

‘Just leave it,
Mags,
’ she said with
an urgency which surprised me.

I studied her, seeing how much she’d changed this last week.
There were dark smudges under her eyes which no amount of expensive foundation
could conceal, and her hair, released from its hood, reeked of cigarette smoke.
I guessed what she was thinking: Denny had left, and she was stuck here
indefinitely, away from her children. I took her hand and squeezed it.

She let it lie in mine, not looking at me.
When
she spoke, it was with weariness in her voice.
‘Something’s wrong,
Mags, isn’t it?’

‘To do with Denny?’

‘You’ve not been yourself since we stepped
off the bus.’

For a second, I considered not telling her. But she had a
right to know: her life might also be in danger. ‘We’re being followed,’ I
said. ‘He’s wearing a black
snowsuit
and a ski mask.’

On cue, a black-suited figure strolled past the window. A
moment later, we saw another, moving more quickly. Then two figures in black
snowsuits
wandered along, deep in conversation.

Liz relaxed visibly. ‘Everyone seems to be wearing black,
Mags.
’

I felt foolish. ‘Maybe I imagined it.’ I finished my
chocolate. ‘Come on, let’s go.’ We pulled up our ski masks and left.

But, as we picked our way down the crowded street, I
continued to search for the figure, hoping his actions would give him away.

‘You’re driving me bananas
,
’ Liz
said suddenly. ‘I can see what you’re doing.’ She stopped and scanned the
street. ‘There are people in black suits, there are people in red suits, blue
suits, and white suits. I’ve even seen a pink suit.’

‘
Okay
, Liz,’ I said sheepishly. ‘You’re
right. I’ll stop.’

We wandered into the main square. Despite the cold, the
whole of Kiruna seemed to have turned out, and a market was in full swing.

We trailed around, ignoring the sharp eyes and brittle
smiles of the stall keepers. They were stamping their feet to keep warm,
calling raucously to each other. The shoppers searched in packs, eyes roaming
hungrily for gifts, jostling each other with an easy indifference.

I stopped at a candle stall, attracted by the warm waxy
smell. The girl was lighting the candles with a taper, and wiping her dripping
nose on her sleeve. The expression in her moist eyes, mournful and hopeful as a
spaniel’s, decided me. I bent over the scented candles and inhaled deeply. More
for her benefit than mine, I took my time making up my mind, and settled on a
miniature Christmas tree which smelt of pine needles.

The stall keeper opposite was winking at me, inviting me to
buy the decorations hanging from the lintel. The wind had strengthened, and a
sudden gust swung them alarmingly. One fell to the ground, tinkling as it
smashed. The man scowled, muttering in Swedish, and kicked the glass away.
Unable to clear the shards, he ground the remains under his boot. He saw me
watching then, and shouted something guttural at me.

I felt a sudden grip on my arm. Liz was staring at a point
behind me.

I turned to look.

He was tall and well-built, in a black ski mask and suit,
leaning over a stall that sold tablecloths. He fingered the merchandise,
deliberately not looking in our direction.

Liz’s voice was almost a whisper. ‘You were right
,
he’s been following us. He’s been stopping whenever we have
so that he’s always a couple of stalls behind. And he’s been looking us over.’

I pulled her away. ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t let him see
that we know.’

‘I owe you an apology,
Mags.
I
should have believed you.’

I was anxious to distance myself from him. ‘He won’t try
anything in a crowd. It shouldn’t be difficult to lose him.’

‘Oh no, w
e’re not losing him. W
e’re
going to challenge him,’ she said in a tone of voice that brooked no argument.

‘You can’t be serious. If he knows we’re on to him, it’s a
whole new situation.’ I looked at the figure, still at the stall. ‘He could be
someone unconnected with the Icehotel, who’s doing this for a joke.’

‘A pervert, you mean?’

‘They exist, Liz, even this far north. Let’s just leave it.’

But Liz wouldn’t leave it. ‘Hey, you,’ she shouted, walking
towards the black-suited figure.

He looked up, dropped what he was holding, and walked
briskly away.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, hmm? Hey, I’m
talking to you.’ She broke into a run.

The figure glanced over his shoulder, then took off like a
rocket. I dashed after them, trying to keep up despite the pain in my knee.

For a brief moment, I thought he’d lose us but he slipped,
knocked into a stall, and fell crashing to the ground. Liz reached him in
seconds. He tried to haul himself up, but she delivered a vicious kick to his
groin.

‘
Right, who
the hell are you?’ she
hissed.

He howled, curling into a ball, and lay on his side,
rocking. She struck out savagely at his ribs.

I dragged her off him. ‘Liz, for God’s sake, that’s enough.’