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  Ice Cold Blood

  David W Millar

  Ice Cold Blood by David W Millar

  Copyright © 2021. All rights reserved.

  The right of David W Millar to be identified as the author of the Work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  This first edition published and copyright 2021 by Tippermuir Books Ltd, Perth, Scotland. [email protected] - www.tippermuirbooks.co.uk

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means without written permission from the Publisher except for review purposes.

  All rights whatsoever in this book are reserved.

  ISBN 978-1-913836-06-1 (eBook)

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Project coordination/editorial by Dr Paul S Philippou.

  Cover design by Matthew Mackie.

  Editorial support: Steve Zajda.

  Contents

  David W Millar

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Tippermuir Books

  For Ruth

  David W Millar

  David W Millar is a retired science teacher with an interest in world history. He has written comedy sketches for television and stand-up comedians, composed humorous copy lines for over five hundred greeting cards in the UK and America, and written but not yet actively marketed two screenplays. This is his second novel. David is currently working on a ‘spy novel’ set in the 1940s and is enjoying getting to grips again with pre-digital technology.

  Also by David W Millar

  A Chocolate Soldier (2016)

  Some Wars Never End. In this page-turning novel, David W Millar tells the story of Neil, an eighteen-year-old who dreams of going to Cambridge University to study history. The trouble is, up until a recent Damascene conversion, Neil had been on track to pursue a career in the sciences. When he gains temporary employment in a care home for the elderly, Neil meets Oleg, a survivor of the Siege of Stalingrad. Oleg has witnessed his family murdered by German soldiers with his sister raped and killed. But the old Red Army veteran carries his own guilty secret from the war and is beset by nightmares. Neil and Oleg start up an uneasy friendship, which is brokered by Sheila, the care home manager. As the novel progresses, we meet Sheila’s son Harry, who has his own adventure. The story culminates in an unusual dénouement for Neil, Harry, Sheila, and Oleg. With its themes of love, guilt, friendship, and redemption, A Chocolate Soldier is a gripping novel that reminds us that we are always in a state of becoming.

  Acknowledgements

  To Pamela Ferguson, Sinead Niriain, Alan Laing, Ian Innes, Euan Gow, Ian Lamb, Joan and Ewen Gilchrist, and Les Short who read my earlier attempts at the novel and mixed encouraging noises with constructive criticism. Special thanks to Jon Miller who advised regarding police matters. I offer thanks also to Steve Zajda for his careful proof-reading of the manuscript and to the Tippermuir Team – Rob Hands, Matthew Mackie and Paul S Philippou. Finally, a big thank you to Carolyn Humphreys from Canada who was generous in her praise of Ice Cold Blood and gave me hope this was a book that people might enjoy.

  A woman’s body is found in the remnants of a snow-hole dug on Ben Nevis. Naked, with an ice axe embedded in her skull, the cause of Ellie Saunder’s death is clear, only the murderer remains to be found. But inconsistences remain, and recently-appointed Detective Chief Inspector William Tosh is keen to solve the case.

  Three men had been a major part of Ellie Saunder’s life: a structural engineer, a professional climber, and a third mysterious figure, John Serafini, a psychosexual counsellor. Serafini, it transpires, had a strong motive to see Ellie dead. His reluctance to come forward adds to the case against him.

  Throughout the investigation DCI Tosh feels the rawness of his own failed relationship resurface as the life history of a woman climber who struggled with mental illness is laid bare. Can DCI Tosh solve the murder and find new love while wrestling with his and Ellie’s demons?

  Ice Cold Blood is an absorbing and satisfying crime novel with twists and turns that leave the reader guessing until the end. Perfect for fans of sophisticated whodunnits who also appreciate books that addresses real-life issues.

  Chapter 1

  They had found the body in a snow-hole. These ‘cave-like’ structures are excavated from the snow by climbers facing extreme weather conditions or in the event of being benighted on the mountains in winter. Occasionally they are dug out from deep banks of snow for the experience of staying in one for a few hours. This one had undergone partial melting before being covered again by a fresh layer of snow. Two hill walkers had noticed the end of a walking pole sticking out through the snow and further investigation on their part had led to the grisly find. That was all Detective Chief Inspector William Tosh knew apart from the body being that of a woman whose skull was split by the metallic pick of a climbing axe.

  The rotor blade clatter made it almost impossible for any conversation, but Detective Sergeant Ian McIntyre nudged his companion’s arm, pointing towards figures waving from the ground. A wind always blew across these mountains and the aircraft was struggling against the gusts before finally giving up and turning full circle to head down the mountain.

  ‘Looks like we’ll have to land further down where it’s more sheltered,’ McIntyre roared while partially removing the ear defenders from Tosh’s ear, so his boss could hear. ‘There’s more shelter there and then we’ll probably have to walk two or so kilometres to get there.’

  Tosh rolled his eyes at the sergeant. While McIntyre, a native of Fort William, was a keen hill walker and climber Tosh was certainly not. He had never owned a pair of walking boots and had to frantically borrow a pair from another colleague on the force. They had only met a few times, but he was happy the DS had been assigned to him, knowing his experience as a climber and hill walker would be useful.

  ‘Looks bloody freezing down there,’ Tosh yelled. ‘Christ I should have brought a flask of coffee.’

  McIntyre pointed at his large rucksack. ‘Got sandwiches too,’ he laughed.

  It was a tricky landing despite shelter
from the lee of a rib of rock. But the pilot said he knew the terrain well and was happy to land. Even so the helicopter rocked dangerously backwards and forwards before hitting the ground with an alarming thump. The pilot turned immediately to them, making small circles with his finger to indicate he wanted to take off quickly. Both men removed their ear defenders, threw their bags out in front of them and tumbled into the snow. The helicopter then left them rising skywards in a rocking motion before disappearing into the distance.

  ‘Christ who in their right mind wants to walk in this freezing Hell,’ Tosh moaned. ‘It’s blowing a bloody gale.’

  ‘Come on boss, treat it as a break, away from the desk and all that paperwork.’

  ‘There’s central heating in my office in Inverness with a coffee machine and a sandwich shop just outside the building. And that hut over there in the distance suddenly looks pretty inviting to me.’

  ‘That’s the CIC hut, opened in 1929 by the Scottish Mountaineering Club as a memorial to a young climber called Charles Inglis Clark. You must book a year in advance to use it. We’re heading up to Coire Leis where the snow-hole is.’

  ‘Jesus a snow-hole; isn’t that what a bloody polar bear would use.’

  ‘I’ve had a go at making them a couple of times. It’s not as cold as you would think, and it can be fun drinking your tea while surrounded by snow and ice.’

  ‘Fun, Jesus the world’s full of nutters wanting to freeze to death or fall and kill themselves.’ Tosh shook his head while pulling a woolly hat from his bag. ‘Break your ankle out here and you’re dead.’

  ‘But it’s Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in the UK, just over 4,400 feet above sea level. People come from all over the world to climb it.’

  ‘Well, that’s cheered me up no end.’

  Further expletives were blown unheard from the mountainside before Tosh finally shouldered his bag, trudging reluctantly after his colleague whom he knew was clearly going to enjoy this little outing. That was making him angry more than anything else.

  It took well over an hour for the ascent to Coire Leis, Tosh arriving at the crime scene sweating, breathless and exhausted. He felt awful, his chest muscles ached from the unfamiliar exertion and the cold. He was aware his heart was racing, knowing too well that people often died from heart attacks brought on by the sudden and unfamiliar exertion of clearing snow from their gardens when the coronary blood vessels had narrowed due to the cold. It did nothing to help his mood. Despite playing indoor football, in addition to regular visits to the gym, nothing had prepared him for this type of physical activity.

  It took him several minutes before his breathing returned to normal. He glared at his colleague who noticed the discomfort and had a big smile on his face.

  A tall figure suitably dressed in mountain clothing approached them.

  ‘Police Constable Aaron Fletcher from Fort William,’ he announced, shaking hands with Tosh and grinning at McIntyre who was clearly a colleague and friend. He then pointed to a small orange tent. ‘It’s a group shelter for the Lochaber Mountain Rescue. They walked up with me. We usually work closely together when there are incidents on the mountain.’

  Their voices must have carried, for the shelter suddenly opened and five people got out. ‘The man in the red jacket is a local GP from Fort William who we use to confirm any death in the mountains. The couple who made the discovery are sheltering in the tent we put up for them over there, to keep them out of the wind. We’ve fed them tea and sandwiches, but they’re pretty tired and obviously cold from hanging about for hours and really need to get off the mountain soon.’

  ‘Well since they’ve found someone with an ice axe embedded in their skull, I’ll put questions and statements before their comfort,’ Tosh replied. ‘Anyone else likely to have disturbed the crime scene here?’

  ‘No sir, not since we’ve been here anyway. There didn’t seem any point in putting up the crime scene tape. It just gets blown away and we’ve not had too many visitors - just some hill walkers who stopped and asked a few questions before moving on. There’s more snow forecast today so it would be good to get things moving. I can feel my body temperature falling and even these experienced guys will be getting pretty chilled.’

  Tosh nodded, cheered that even the mountain men were feeling the cold.

  ‘Right, thanks Aaron. Anything I need to know about these two?’ he pointed with his pole towards the tent.

  ‘Came up from Manchester for the week. They’re in their early forties and both are teachers. The woman is quite upset at what she saw.’

  Tosh knew from experience that people who reported murders were sometimes implicated in them, though in this case that seemed doubtful. The wind speed increased suddenly picking up loose snow as spindrift and blasting it into their faces. Tosh struggled even to keep his balance.

  ‘Christ, it’s nearly fucking March and it feels like January. Right, I’ll need to get a few statements and then they can go back with these guys.’ Tosh nodded towards the group of mountain rescue volunteers.

  ‘There’s a woman in the mountain rescue team,’ Aaron Fletcher informed him. Tosh shook his head wearily before heading towards the tent.

  He could see the couple were both done in so questions were kept brief and statements postponed until they would be in the warmth of the police station at Fort William. It seemed highly unlikely to him they would have any involvement in this crime. The woman looked like she might go into shock and Tosh wondered if a helicopter would be needed to lift them off the mountain. But rising to her feet she assured him she could make it back to Fort William. The DCI asked if two of the rescue group would accompany them while the others could wait behind to assist in getting the body down to Fort William.

  Despite the snow-hole’s partial collapse Tosh could still get a good view inside the shelter by going down on his hands and knees. He thought it insane that anyone would willingly spend the night there. He shone his torch around, illuminating the naked body of a middle-aged woman - an ice axe firmly embedded in the top of her skull. Blood from the wound had stained the snow a deep red around her head.

  He had never got used to seeing death, whether the cause was accidental or deliberate. And breaking bad news was always the worst part of his job. The despair it caused changed the lives of friends and family forever. It made his personal problems seem insignificant.

  ‘Well cause of death seems pretty obvious,’ McIntyre declared, lying beside his boss while adding light from his torch. ‘Her clothes are over there in a neat pile.’

  Tosh forced his mind back to the present, carefully trying to examine the face of the dead woman from a distance. He knew from painful experience not to disturb a crime scene. Despite the obvious trauma to her head, she looked surprisingly peaceful. Looking around he saw no sign of a struggle, something he thought incongruous.

  A glint of reflected light from behind the dead woman’s head caught his attention and he could make out a half empty bottle of what looked like an expensive whisky. Hopefully, they might get some fingerprints from it.

  ‘Right, let’s get back and wait for ‘Doctor Death’ to get here.’

  As they rose to their feet the noise of helicopter blades in the distance signalled the arrival of the pathologist.

  The wind had dropped so the helicopter was brought in closer but did not land. Its three passengers jumped several feet onto the snow, throwing their bags and equipment out first. The aircraft climbed again instantly while the three men ran towards them.

  ‘Have you touched anything?’ the leading figure asked.

  Back in Glasgow it had always been the same greeting.

  ‘Professor Wallace, it’s a pleasure to see you too!’ Tosh smiled, extending his hand. ‘And all the way from Glasgow. Where’s Dr Collins?’

  ‘Sabbatical apparently,’ he declared, explaining the absence of Dr Anne Collins the Highland foren
sic pathologist, before shaking Tosh’s outstretched hand.

  ‘We’ve examined the scene carefully. The local GP over there has confirmed the death.’

  They had met a few times in Glasgow before Tosh was promoted to DCI and moved to Inverness. They had got on well, but at one crime scene in a Glasgow tenement Tosh had tripped over a rug falling onto the body of a man who had been previously beaten to death by an intruder. The case had been straightforward, and an arrest was soon made where the suspect confessed. But at the time, Professor Andrew Wallace had lost his temper at the possible contamination of evidence, calling him a tosser. That name had stuck - in Glasgow anyway. He was grateful it had not followed him north.

  ‘Well, it’s a great day to be out on the mountains of Scotland,’ Wallace exclaimed after being introduced to McIntyre. ‘Beats crawling about in some Glasgow tenement or a car park at Tesco’s.’

  ‘Oh God another outdoor lunatic. Well, it’s too cold for me,’ Tosh grumbled, wondering how many murders were committed in Tesco car parks since he personally had never attended one. ‘I want a warm helicopter to take me to Fort William and out of this hellhole.’

  Wallace rolled his eyes at McIntyre making the sergeant laugh. ‘Right then, let the dog see the rabbit.’

  It was his stock phrase for every crime scene. Tosh and McIntyre led him towards the snow-hole while the forensic team set up their equipment ready to take samples and photograph the scene.

  After about fifteen minutes Professor Wallace reappeared from the snow-hole approaching Tosh and McIntyre who were chatting to the two remaining men from the mountain rescue group and the GP from Fort William. To Tosh’s annoyance everyone seemed oblivious to the biting wind.

  ‘Body’s been reasonably well preserved by the cold so time of death’s going to be a bit tricky.’

  ‘What’s your best guess?’

  The pathologist shot McIntyre a disapproving look. ‘I don’t guess sonny. I’m hoping to get the body airlifted to Belford Hospital in Fort William. Hopefully that flight should be on its way by now. I’ll examine it in more detail there. The forensic team will take about twenty minutes and then we’re set to go.’