Ice Cold Blood Page 2

  ‘I’ve got coffee and sandwiches if anyone’s hungry,’ McIntyre suggested.

  ‘Sounds like a brilliant idea to me,’ Tosh nodded. ‘It’s still fucking freezing out here.’

  Wallace took a deep breath. ‘Nonsense it’s good healthy air, the sort of stuff you should fill your lungs with. Glasgow’s full of fumes from all those bloody cars.’

  They used the tent now vacated by the hill walkers who had discovered the body, sitting on mats provided by one of the mountain rescue team while McIntyre dispensed the coffee.

  ‘Notice anything on the clothes, identifying marks, or tattoos on the body?’ Tosh asked, sighing with pleasure at the warming sensation of the coffee.

  Wallace shook his head. ‘I noticed the half bottle of that whisky as I’m sure you did, but no immediate ID from the clothes and there was no purse or handbag as far as I could see. It all looks a bit strange.’

  Tosh looked at him knowing better than to ask questions. The pathologist would just get irritated if pushed for information.

  The sun came out briefly from behind the clouds and the wind that had been buffeting the tent dropped.

  ‘Not so bad now. It’s the bloody Scottish weather. I wouldn’t be able to cope with this, one minute you’re in danger of hypothermia and the next you’re getting sunburnt.’

  ‘Catches a lot of people out,’ McIntyre nodded. ‘Think they can walk up the mountains with a T-shirt and trainers. You ask these guys over there how many times they’ve been called out to rescue half-dressed walkers.’

  ‘Assuming they belong to the deceased, the climbing boots are an expensive make,’ Wallace said quietly. ‘They were lying beside her clothes which look like quality gear. However, there’s no rucksack.’

  ‘What are you implying?’ Tosh turned to meet his gaze.

  ‘Half a bottle of 12-year-old Highland Park. Her clothes in a neat pile, no sign of a struggle and an ice axe in her head. It’s a tad odd.’

  ‘Maybe she was just robbed?’ McIntyre suggested. ‘Took some of her stuff and then legged it.’

  The pathologist just grunted contemptuously, ‘I’m no detective but that’s the worst piece of analysis I’ve heard in a while. This robber person of yours hammers an ice axe into her head and then strips her naked before putting her clothes in a neat pile?’

  ‘Maybe she’d already taken her clothes off?’ McIntyre suggested, instantly regretting it.

  ‘What, so she took her clothes off in a snow-hole? Was she going to put her jammies on?’

  ‘Well you said yourself there appears to be some stuff missing and she has an ice axe in her head. So obviously someone else was involved.’ McIntyre looked to his boss for support.

  But Tosh ignored him, turning instead to face Wallace. ‘I know you always tell me you never speculate. Do you want to break your own rule this once?’

  A noise behind them indicated the forensic team were finished. Several large black plastic bags were laid out close to the snow-hole and a gust of wind came out of nowhere picking up two of the bags and blowing them downhill.

  ‘Christ it’s blowing a bloody gale again,’ Tosh exclaimed while the men chased after their bags.

  One of the Lochaber Mountain Rescue volunteers carrying a large phone came over and spoke to Aaron Fletcher. After a few minutes, he headed towards Wallace and the others.

  ‘One of the team members just heard on his satellite phone that the helicopter won’t come out in this weather because of the forecast. The body will have to be stretchered off the hill.’

  Tosh groaned, ‘Jesus Christ that means I’ll be walking down too!’

  ‘Right,’ Wallace announced, having digested the new information and taken charge of the situation. ‘If the Lochaber Mountain Rescue Team’s happy to take the body down on the stretcher to Fort William we can all lend a hand.’

  ‘There’s another four men from the mountain rescue on their way here. They’ll take it in turns with the stretcher. It’s going to be a difficult descent.’ Fletcher paused, pointing with an outstretched arm. ‘Look that’s them now.’

  After issuing instructions about how he wanted the dead body bagged and lifted onto the stretcher, the pathologist took Tosh aside.

  ‘Two things Tosser. You asked me about speculating. Well I’ll wait till after I’ve examined the body in detail, however, I will say this, there’s things not adding up here. I would have expected more blood from the wound for starters.’

  ‘What’s the other thing?’ Tosh grunted, annoyed at the use of his old nickname.

  ‘They’re expecting a huge dump of snow any minute now,’ he roared with laughter. ‘We’ll be walking down in a whiteout.’

  Tosh looked at him and groaned.

  ‘Well, isn’t my day just getting better and bloody better!’

  Chapter 2

  Euan Hunter had kept every letter sent by his various girlfriends over the years. The first was from Yvonne who had been at the same secondary school. They had gone out in sixth year.

  It was his first romance. He lost his virginity along with his innocence. It was the only letter she sent: a cowardly concoction of words terminating their relationship by claiming it was not practical to continue when they were going to separate universities. She was going to study biology at Aberdeen while he was doing engineering at Strathclyde. He had not thought it was that great a distance but then he had suspected she was seeing someone else well before then.

  He smiled, remembering the angst it had caused at the time. A lovesick puppy his mother had called him, insisting he would get over it and be all the better for the experience.

  She had been right about that relationship but wrong about the other.

  There were two separate bundles in the box, one bound by an elastic band containing the letters from other relationships, while the second was neatly tied with a tartan ribbon. These were the letters from the woman who had come to dominate his life.

  She had told him she was a Celt by birth, born in Stirling to Scottish parents who had moved to London when she was six. Then at the age of twenty-one she had returned north to work in Edinburgh. He could not remember when she had given him the ribbon, only remembering she had said once that it was symbolic since they were both true Celts and regardless of what happened between them that connection would bind them forever.

  He untied the ribbon carefully, smoothing it out on the table. It looked fragile now, a bit faded despite being kept in the box and away from the light. Taking a letter from the bottom of the pile he reflected that it had been sent many years ago during a time when communicating your thoughts, hopes, desires, emotions and plans was done with words on paper.

  The handwriting was elegant reflecting her skill as a copy artist. There was no date, something she omitted with every letter. It made the letters timeless she had said. It was so characteristic of a woman who lived her life with intensity and passion, something he had always loved. But it was still annoying for him not to know instantly how old her letters were despite being able to remember the incidents mentioned in perfect detail. Mental arithmetic put it at about twenty-five years old.

  Dear Euan

  How good it was to see you again so soon after the concert. It was a very interesting ‘blind date’. I want to thank you again for agreeing to accompany me to my cousin’s wedding. That was very kind of you since we did not know each other that well and kindness is something I admire in a person.

  The wedding proved very memorable. You danced well, made excellent and interesting conversation while looking so tall and handsome in your kilt. You charmed my various girlfriends who made very complimentary noises about your appearance, together with the usual crude comments drunken girls make about what was worn underneath the kilt and was your sporran size large or small!

  Was that our first real date? Was it a date at all? Were we just two friends so
cialising together? Words, as Wittgenstein once said, are slippy, but I hope that rather long goodnight kiss outside my flat indicates that you perhaps find me as attractive as I do you? I certainly enjoyed the kiss!

  You are an interesting man. Perhaps the fact you are an engineer is significant because that is my father’s profession. He is a mechanical engineer and also an inventor. He has successfully registered several patents. While I might work in the art world, I am fully appreciative of things mechanical and have helped him in the past with his designs. In fact I have designed some of the machinery contained in his creations and when younger made several contraptions in his workshop. You might be surprised to know I can weld, braze and solder to some degree of craftsmanship!

  But I am digressing as the purpose of my letter is to ask if you might accompany me to a private viewing I have been invited to in Edinburgh on Friday by an artist friend of whom I am very fond. I thought it might be fun if we were able to go together. I have to warn you that she is fiendishly into abstract art which makes her work difficult to define or gauge its merit. But I admire her work a lot and have already bought a few pieces for my flat. Some of her paintings are rather quirky, in the nicest sense that is, and, if reasonably priced and well framed, I think she may well sell some on the night.

  That would be good as Annabel, the artist that is, has a ‘day job’ in a bank, and could no doubt use the extra income and the kudos that come with your work being sold. The art world is fickle and if her paintings were hung in peoples’ houses it might help kick-start her career. There are wine and nibbles which should make the evening convivial at least. Some of my friends will be going, together with their partners.

  I realise that it is early days between us and am aware that I am making the running, so to speak, in the arrangements thus far. I hope you do not feel that is too forward of me and I am conscious you may have other arrangements for that evening. Please do not feel hassled or pressurised as I will not be upset at a refusal. The exhibition starts at seven and should finish around nine.

  Thank you again for your company

  Ellie

  Her words were a mixture of formality and emotion - a trait that ran through all her early correspondence. It was well written for she had studied English at university along with fine arts. There was no hint of the problems that would beset her later years, blighting both their lives and on occasions ending their relationship, only for the inevitable resumption - which was always a highly charged and sexually powerful occasion. As the ribbon suggested there was a bond that had seemed unbreakable between them despite the continuing trauma.

  Reading it again made him smile at the memory of their nascent courtship. He had gone to the exhibition with her, remembering the people there as loud, pompous and opinionated - but the prices for the artwork seemed reasonable and the red dots appearing on the paintings were testament to the fact that she was indeed breaking into the market.

  Annabel was unassuming and unpretentious, happy to take criticism about her paintings and was embarrassed by praise. She was also shy as well as attractive, something he found endearing. Her boyfriend at the time, Peter, was a medical student in his final year, working long hours at Edinburgh Royal. Like Euan he claimed no knowledge of art, so the two men had talked about football and rugby most of the evening.

  Ellie had made an introductory speech to formally open procedures. She was articulate, using carefully chosen words to describe the artwork - nothing ostentatious. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and her asides made the audience laugh. It was obvious she knew about art for references were made to painting styles of which he had never heard. At the end of her speech, he had found himself applauding louder than the others.

  Later the four of them had gone back to Ellie’s flat in Leith picking up a carry-out on the way. They had put on music, drunk more wine and talked about art, politics, history, books and medicine.

  Peter had expressed a desire to become a GP and Ellie had been dismissive of modern medicine, saying it was the frantic pace of life that had made people lose their way. We had lost our connections to the Earth as noble savages living off roots and berries and were now greedily destroying the planet. Tranquillisers were prescribed all too easily instead of listening to the patient’s needs and recommending alternative therapies, nutritious food or meditation. Art, music, films, books, dancing, friendships and long walks in the country were needed to nourish the soul.

  Maybe the wine had helped Peter’s mood for he took it all good humouredly, promising to consult with her when he was qualified. As an engineer immersed in the precision of numbers, Euan had found it at one level naive and ridiculous, but at another charming and endearing. The fact his mother was a GP made it even more amusing.

  Annabel’s early work adorned the walls of the flat, their style described by Ellie as vigorous swirls of vibrant colour applied with bold strokes on rough canvas. She also said they were fresh and unique adding that she would never sell them no matter how much she was offered.

  Annabel told him later in confidence when Ellie was in the kitchen, she now felt it disconcerting to look at them thinking their style gaudy and naive. But Ellie had always dismissed these reservations telling everyone the paintings represented the fledgling creations of a star in the making. He laughed at the time, but it had made him wonder if it was just Ellie’s way of encouraging her friend or was there hidden beauty, some artistic genius?

  There was a painting in the bathroom, and he remembered looking hard at the detail while searching for latent meaning or a hidden message. In the end he gave up. If there was something there, he was too challenged artistically to see it.

  It turned into a late evening, two bottles of wine becoming three. It was after two in the morning when they finally made a move to leave agreeing to share a taxi for their respective journeys home. He was staying with a friend in Leith and would get the first train to Glasgow the following morning.

  He smiled on remembering Annabel dragging her confused and inebriated boyfriend down the stairs to wait for the taxi - no doubt explaining on the way that it would allow them a goodnight kiss in private. He and Ellie had both laughed when left alone, embracing awkwardly at first before the kiss turned passionate and he had found his hands on her breasts before daringly rubbing the crotch of her jeans. She had moaned before the sound of an approaching vehicle made them separate, giggling like children. He had wanted to stay over but felt it too soon and she had not suggested it. Instead, he told her he would phone.

  Putting the letter on the table Euan sighed softly before rising to his feet to make coffee and toast. It was Saturday, he would re-read every letter even if the first one had stirred up dormant memories of anger, pain and sadness. But for the moment he needed a break.

  Chapter 3

  The unaccustomed effort of trudging through deep snow meant Tosh arrived exhausted and irritable at the police station in Fort William. Professor Wallace had immediately ordered a helicopter to fly the body to Inverness, deciding that in this case a post-mortem was warranted and had already instructed his assistant in Glasgow to drive up and meet him at Raigmore Hospital. Tosh could tell Wallace was going to enjoy another ride in the helicopter.

  With the pathologist still refusing to be drawn, Tosh was left with a sense of frustration, for it might mean kicking his heels while waiting for the official report. But cases like this in the Highlands were exceedingly rare so there was also a frisson of excitement building that this might be a case requiring a detailed investigation lasting months or even a year. The fact that the pathologist was giving nothing away was significant. And there would be statements to garner and appeals for anyone walking on the mountain who might have seen the victim. The memory of the freezing cold and biting winds was still fresh, and he had decided McIntyre would have to do anything that required going into the wild again.

  Tosh had applied for almost any DCI posts across Scotland an
d latterly England. Anything to get away from Glasgow and its painful memories. The job at Fort William had come up 18 months ago and he was relieved to get it. There were regrets about the move to Inverness, it was quiet compared to Glasgow and he missed the buzz of the big city. Crime rates were low in the Highlands and work was often routine with break-ins, the occasional assault or car thefts.

  Drug investigations were prominent, however, and he had headed up investigations resulting in large hauls of high-grade heroin. On the downside he had once spent a month being bored senseless while investigating the alleged poisoning of birds of prey by gamekeepers worried about their pheasants. A golden eagle and her chicks had eaten the poisoned carcass of a large rabbit and the RSPB in the area had gone mental.

  And yet he was ambitious, and at 32 there was still time to get an equivalent position, or even that of a superintendent, back in the Central Belt or even a big city in England if he was diligent enough. And by then the woman responsible for those painful memories would have left or the emotional wounds might have healed.

  A product of the graduate recruitment process, she had always talked about teaching so maybe that would happen. Except they had talked about buying a place together, moving abroad and having children, before she told him there was someone else. He had felt so stupid that it had been going on for months before her confession - a poor reflection of his ability as a detective.

  She had wanted to stay friends but her new man was another copper from Glasgow so that was never going to happen. In the meantime, he was letting his flat out in Glasgow to keep open the option of a return. A successful murder investigation would certainly help.

  McIntyre had spoken to the two mountain rescue men on the way down to Fort William and both reckoned the snow-hole was well constructed by an experienced climber or climbers. The winter had been exceptionally cold with heavy snowfalls, attracting large numbers of climbers to the peaks in Scotland. Aviemore was experiencing its best skiing season for over a decade and Tosh had been involved in serious disturbances – usually because of drunkenness.