ICEHOTEL (35 page)

‘Of course not.’ He smiled thinly. ‘They were greatly
surprised at the extent of my knowledge. However, with no firm evidence, we had
no option but to release them.’

‘And the breakthrough you said you made this afternoon?’

‘It was quite by chance. The Stockholm police were recently
tipped off that Marcellus and Vandenberg were plotting something there. They
made their own enquiries. When I learnt about it, I thought they might uncover
evidence of the plot to murder Wilson. But it was something completely
different.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Marcellus and the lawyer were indeed hatching
a plan. But it was to kidnap Wilson, not murder him.’

‘
Kidnap
him?’ I said, stunned. ‘At the Icehotel?’

‘In Stockholm. Their plan was well advanced. They knew what
Wilson’s movements would be, and they contracted with someone to kidnap him.
This tip-off led to the arrest of the would-be kidnapper today.’

‘What was the point of the kidnap? Ransom?’

He finished the coffee. ‘I wondered about the motive but in
the end it was the money. The police told the kidnapper that Wilson had been
murdered and, not wanting to be accused of a murder that he did not commit, he
gave them everything: dates, times, and the proof that Marcellus and
Vandenberg
were in it. We have
Vandenberg’s
cellphone and, now,
Marcellus’s.
The records will link
them to the kidnapper and the plot.’

‘But Wilson wasn’t kidnapped.’

‘Unfortunately for him, he decided to take a last-minute
holiday. Had he stayed in Stockholm, the plan would have gone ahead, and he
would probably have been kidnapped and ransomed.’

‘And still be alive,’ I said sadly.

‘The kidnapper told us that Marcellus, having seen the
Excelsior, felt that snatching Wilson here was out of the question. In the end,
I think he and
Vandenberg
abandoned the idea.’

‘And they decided to murder him instead?’

He smiled. ‘Much easier, do you not think?’

‘I’ve no idea.’ I rubbed my eyes. ‘I’ve never planned a
murder. Or a kidnap.’

‘I should hope not, Miss Stewart,’ he said, refilling the
mugs. ‘Once I knew about the failed kidnap attempt, I put out word to arrest
them. We found
Vandenberg
at
the Excelsior. When we presented him with the evidence, he admitted
everything.’

‘That he’d killed Wilson?’ I said, astonished.

‘Everything but that. He denied it strenuously. He said he
was in Kiruna when Wilson was killed. He’d gone there to co-ordinate a new
kidnap plan with Marcellus. It was to take place when Wilson returned to
Stockholm. But then Wilson died.’

‘Do you believe him?’

‘He was booked into a hotel in Kiruna.’ He made an impatient
gesture with his hand. ‘No-one saw him come and go, although it is a small
hotel and the landlord is rarely there. However, I am convinced that
Vandenberg is
lying, and he and Marcellus killed Wilson.
There is no hard evidence, so we will have to try for a confession.
Vandenberg
did admit the kidnap plot so with a little
pressure he may admit to murder.’ He smiled grimly. ‘He thought he could save
his skin by giving us evidence that would implicate Marcellus.’

I took a wild guess. ‘The contents of the final diary page.’

‘Indeed, Miss Stewart,’ he said
with an indulgent
smile
. ‘The final page was a memorandum by Wilson, countersigned by
Vandenberg
, to change his will.’

‘Cutting Marcellus out?’ I said softly.

‘In effect. Marcellus would still be provided for but he
would have to greatly curtail his lavish lifestyle.’

‘Do you think Marcellus saw that page?’

‘
Vandenberg
told him what was on it.
It provides the motive for the kidnap.’

‘So where was Wilson leaving his money?’ I said, knowing the
answer. ‘His schools’ initiative?’

‘He wanted it to continue after he died. But there was
another beneficiary, an obscure working men’s charity in South America.’

I thought back to Mike’s account of his girlfriend’s family
history. So Wilson had found a conscience at last. ‘Was it in Venezuela?’ I
said.

Hallengren raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Maracaibo.’ He
looked amused. ‘The things you know, Miss Stewart.’

I tried to get my head around it. ‘So Wilson was to be
kidnapped and ransomed before he could give away the money.’

‘Once he had been ransomed,
Vandenberg
was going to launder the money by creating companies owned jointly by Marcellus
and himself. When Marcellus learnt about the new will, he was not particularly
worried as he would soon be getting millions from the ransom.’

‘But when the kidnap plans fell through, he saw his
inheritance going down the drain, so he and Aaron murdered him. And with the
final diary page removed, no-one would know about the new will. The old will,
leaving everything to Marcellus, would still be the one in effect.’

He smiled appreciatively. ‘You should have been a detective,
Miss Stewart.’

It made sense. What had Aaron said about the copy?
It’s
in a safe place.
With Wilson dead, and Marcellus standing to gain a fortune
under the old will,
Aaron could still get his share
by
blackmailing him.

‘Which of them do you think went into Wilson’s room?’ I
said.

‘My money is on Marcellus. His room was next to his
father’s. He could have slipped a drug into his father’s food or drink, and
pushed him onto the floor later that night. He would have expected everyone to
be asleep at 2.00am.’

Yes, Marcellus had the opportunity. But would he really have
killed his father just for money? ‘What did Aaron say when you pressed him?’

‘Vandenberg tells a different story. He says Marcellus
claimed that he had not gone into his father’s room until shortly before the
police arrived. He saw his father was dead and immediately understood the
consequences regarding his inheritance. He removed the key from Wilson’s wrist
and hurried to the Locker Room. In a panic, he tore out the last few pages with
writing on them. The only one he needed to remove, of course, was that final
page.’

‘He said he did this after he’d seen his father was dead?’

‘So Vandenberg claims, but I do not believe it. I think that
Marcellus took the key and went to the Locker Room as soon as he had pushed his
father onto the floor.’

I let out a deep breath. ‘He took a hell of a risk.’

‘There is always a risk,’ he said with a thoughtful nod,
‘but Marcellus must have thought it was acceptable. He was in a nearby room. He
could slip in and out of his father’s room quickly.’

‘But wasn’t Marcellus the one to alert you to the missing
pages?’

‘That was a whole day later, when he had had time to do a
bit of thinking.’ He smiled grudgingly. ‘It was a good tactic. He hoped it
would throw us off the scent.’

‘Wouldn’t it draw attention to the fact that Wilson may have
been murdered?’

‘He must have known we would discover that ourselves. I told
him there would be a post-mortem.’ He paused. ‘Marcellus told us that Wilson
had a heart condition, and may have died of it. He showed us the medication.’

‘Yes, I saw Wilson use it on the plane.’

‘Wilson’s doctors advised us that his heart had a slight
arrhythmia, for which they had prescribed Coumarinose.’

‘So, if it wasn’t for the post-mortem, it would have been
the perfect murder,’ I said half to myself.

He laughed then, a rich deep sound. It was the first time
I’d heard it.

‘Believe me, Miss Stewart, there is no such thing. Marcellus
was a bit too quick to tell us about his father’s heart, and our suspicions
were raised. The post-mortem put an end to the weak heart theory.’ He grew
serious. ‘There was something else, however, something one of my men
remembered. Marcellus’s name had been linked to an incident in the United
States. A woman that he had been seeing had been found dead of an overdose.’

‘Marcia Vandenberg? The heiress?’

‘We requested the file from the New York police, hoping we
would learn something useful. A particular detail caught our attention – traces
of a barbiturate had been found in her body. Phenonal. The same barbiturate as
in Wilson Bibby’s bloodstream. The New York police concluded that the killer
had first sedated Miss Vandenberg by drugging her drink, then injected her with
a lethal dose of heroin. It had to be someone she knew well enough to let into
her apartment, and have a drink with. Their prime suspect was Marcellus Bibby.’

‘But he wasn’t convicted.’

‘He had an alibi for that night.’ He threw me an
old-fashioned look. ‘But I put little stock in alibis, Miss Stewart.’

‘The same barbiturate?’ I said doubtfully.

‘And I put even less stock in co-incidences.’

I played with the mug. ‘I don’t get it. She was Aaron
Vandenberg’s sister. Would Aaron be such a buddy to someone suspected of
murdering his sister?’

‘If it was also in his interests that his sister die. She
was a step-sister, in point of fact, and he was her only surviving relative.
And she was very wealthy.’ His eyes rested on mine. ‘Perhaps the kidnap of
Wilson Bibby was not the first – how shall I put it? – criminal enterprise the
two were involved in.’

I rubbed my face hard, saying nothing.

‘We became suspicious when Marcellus’s story about not being
outside the Locker Room did not agree with yours. He told us he spent the
entire night in the Excelsior.’

‘Why did you believe my story and not his?’ I said, curious.

He looked surprised. ‘Because you had no reason to lie and
Marcellus did. I can tell when people are lying, Miss Stewart, and Marcellus
struck me as a habitual liar from the moment I met him. He must have known he
would be our prime suspect. Of course he would lie about going into the Locker
Room. Admitting he was there would put him near the scene of the crime, at the
time of the crime. With no witnesses, there would be no-one to challenge his version
of events.’

‘But there was a witness,’ I said softly.

‘He must have concluded that he had not been identified.’
His mouth tightened. ‘It is as well that he was not able to identify you.
Otherwise, Miss Stewart, he would have killed you the same night.’

Dear God. I gulped my coffee, my hands shaking.

‘Marcellus told us that he had stayed drinking in the
Excelsior after his father had retired. His story was that he had drunk too
much, and could not face the cold. We checked, of course. His bed in the Excelsior
had been slept in, but that proved nothing. He could have disturbed the
bedclothes. Or pushed his father out of bed, taken the diary pages, then gone
to sleep in the Excelsior. We learnt that, at approximately 2.00am, the
Excelsior’s reception had been left unattended for half an hour. Marcellus
would have seen the empty desk, and slipped out. The only people left in the
lounge were guests who were blind drunk.’

‘So there’d be no-one who could credibly challenge his
story.’ I hesitated. ‘But, if he hadn’t identified me, why did he try to kill
me tonight?’

He poured from the bottle and handed me the glass. ‘Because
he learnt that Harry was still alive when you found him.’

‘But how would he know? And what does Harry’s death have to
do with it?’

His eyes moved over my face. ‘Marcellus would have overheard
people in the Excelsior talking about Harry, and that you’d found him alive. I
did, as soon as I arrived. It may have been speculation, but Marcellus must
have assumed it was true. We believe that he killed Harry, and he tried to kill
you because Harry told you the name of his killer.’

‘But if Harry had named him, then I’d have told you, and
Marcellus would have been arrested. Surely he’d know that.’ I rolled the glass
between my hands. ‘It makes no sense.’

‘Maybe not a name, then, but a clue.’ He frowned. ‘Marcellus
should have known that we would need evidence beyond a tenuous suggestion from
a dying man before arresting someone for murder. But I believe that by then he
was not thinking straight. When we interviewed him after Harry was killed, he
was greatly altered. Who knows what his state of mind was? Not all killers are
cold-blooded, Miss Stewart. He may have planned to kidnap his father, but I
think he was a reluctant murderer.’

‘You think he was pushed into it by Aaron?’

‘It is possible.’ He gulped the brandy. ‘My theory is that
Marcellus thought you would work things through and identify him as Harry’s
killer. He could not wait. He tried to kill you that same night in the
Icehotel.’

I felt a sudden stab of fear. The huge figure in black. So,
it had been Marcellus.

Hallengren spoke clinically, as though counting off items on
a shopping list. ‘It would be risky killing you in the Icehotel, but it was
still an opportunity. After he saw you fall through the ice, he slipped away,
assuming you would drown or die of hypothermia. But when he learnt you were
still alive, he searched for another way. Falling to your death from the church
tower would be seen as an accident.’

My head was spinning. ‘Hold on, can we back up a bit,
Inspector? Let’s go back to Harry. Why did
Marcellus
kill
him?’

‘That is the part of the puzzle we cannot solve. We cannot
find a motive.’ He poured more brandy. ‘But I am convinced that it is linked to
your and Harry’s contradictory accounts of the night you spent in the
Icehotel.’

I searched his face. ‘Inspector, although Harry told you he
was asleep the night Wilson was murdered, I did see him leave his room. You
must believe me.’

‘So why would he lie, Miss Stewart? What reason would he have?’

‘I can’t help you there,’ I said sadly. ‘But, on the subject
of motive, could Harry have passed Marcellus on his way from the Locker Room?
Maybe Marcellus thought he would put two and two together later.’