Ice Cold Blood Read online

  It was now two days since the body had been found.

  ‘Surely someone must have seen something?’ Tosh declared over coffee with McIntyre. ‘The papers are running the story of a body found in suspicious circumstances on the mountain and we’ve launched a missing person appeal to cover the whole of the UK. And I thought climbers always had buddies they went on the mountains with for safety.’

  ‘Well yes and no. It is more usual to go out in pairs or in a group, though you get lone climbers who like the solitude. And yes, going out alone in winter can be risky.’

  ‘What about night climbing? Is it possible she went up there in the dark? Surely, you’d need someone with you then. She wouldn’t have gone up there on her own?’

  McIntyre shrugged his shoulders. ‘Look boss, ice climbing is an adrenalin sport. Part of the attraction is the danger of pitting yourself against nature - that sort of thing. Navigating in the dark is difficult and that’s a challenge. Modern LED headlights are so good that more people are taking it up, especially with accurate GPS. And you will always get climbers who want to push themselves to their limits. The deep snow we’ve been having recently attracts climbers and walkers to go out in the dark. Mountain rescue told me there’ve been dozens of call-outs already.’

  ‘Isn’t it usual to leave a message with someone in case things go wrong so if you’re not back by a certain time then the alarm can be raised?’

  ‘Usually, but in this case, no one seems to know anything.’

  ‘So, what we know so far is that this snow-hole looks professional, for want of a better word. She had expensive boots and gear with her but no sign of a rucksack - not much to go on. Any cars been left nearby that might give us a clue?’

  ‘There were three cars in the car park, but they’ve all checked out so far and no one seems to have seen anything.’

  ‘I’m going to take a risk and phone Wallace. It’ll probably irritate the shit out of him, but he must be able to tell us something by now. In the meantime, you get out there and see if you can find anything. Check out the local hotels and see if they had anyone staying that night.’

  ‘Right, boss.’

  At that moment, the desk sergeant put her head round the door to tell him Professor Wallace was on his way to Fort William from Glasgow.

  The two men looked at each other in disbelief.

  ---oOo---

  John Serafini had no email address and no Facebook account. He ran his highly successful and private counselling business using only an answering machine which he could access remotely in his office at the Edinburgh hospital where he worked. Clients could only make further appointments after each session and there was a strict protocol for cancelling. Only his closest friends and family had access to his mobile number and all other calls were screened. His two laptops were state-of-the-art and sophisticated software ensured records could be permanently deleted. He had been told even experts in the CIA would struggle to recover them.

  He had studied medicine at Glasgow followed by three years training as a psychiatrist. His mother was half Italian and he had inherited her handsome looks together with an athletic build from his father. When he left university, he took on his mother’s name changing his passport, driving licence and bank accounts from Wilson to Serafini. He knew that surname had much more cachet.

  He met his wife, a surgeon, when he qualified and they moved to America, where they both made considerable fortunes. This was followed by a PhD in psychosexual problems relating mainly to women, which enabled him to advertise his services in high-end journals and magazines building up a large clientele willing to pay the substantial fees he found he could charge.

  After several successful years they returned to the UK with enough money to buy a house there and a holiday home in Italy. They had their two children within three years of their return. His wife had no trouble finding work as a surgeon in Edinburgh while Serafini worked part time at the city’s psychiatric hospital as well as having an arrangement whereby he took private referrals which interested him from women with sexual issues.

  Women were always vulnerable, something he found endearing and arousing and Serafini knew he was excellent at his job, with an ability to probe his way to the root of most problems. Sometimes he was successful, and the client left after a few sessions able to restart her sex life. But he also knew when their problems would prove impossible for his methods to be effective. Childhood abuse or deep-seated trauma was often firmly embedded, making sexual relationships fraught and unpleasant. He was always professionally honest in telling clients he would not be able to help, often referring them on for specialised counselling to try to overcome their fears.

  There was always vicarious pleasure from a woman recounting her problems with sex. Sometimes he would ask if she would be comfortable being nude in front of him and if that might help to get at the root of her frigidity. If the answer was yes, then he would ask her to take her clothes off in front of him at the next session; though only if she had a close friend willing to accompany her.

  Occasionally a client might bring her partner and they might both strip naked, touching each other intimately under his instruction. When progress was made, they would often thank him profusely, his professional countenance masking the excitement he felt inside.

  He was always ultra-careful, knowing full well that some of the women he saw suffered from a variety of mental conditions and might fabricate complaints about his conduct. Clients always signed disclaimers saying they were willing to engage in frank sexual discussions and if nudity or intimate touching was required both signatures of those present were always sought in advance.

  They understood his need to protect himself from litigation and, if anything, it made them feel more relaxed by emphasising the strict professional nature of the counsellor-client relationship. When the client was no longer seeing him, records were deleted using sophisticated software so no trace would remain.

  During his periods of supervision, necessary for continued accreditation, he always made a point of declaring everything he had done that appeared controversial, often resulting in raised eyebrows from the supervisor.

  Serafini saw himself as a family man, a good father often curtailing his working hours so he could act as a taxi driver for their various activities. If one of them was sick, then he would do his best to rearrange appointments, so his wife did not have to cancel operations.

  He discussed some of his cases with her but kept details to a minimum. Their sex life then was good, spontaneous and adventurous. But there was always the need for him to seek arousal from his clients and he was too good a psychiatrist to entertain denial.

  He had made a general rule never to stray from professional boundaries. Serafini knew he was attractive to women, especially his clients, but viewed any approach from them with caution, always gently rebuffing their advances. They were vulnerable and it would be considered unethical to say the least to be accused of fornicating with his clients. That would affect his income and possibly his marriage.

  He had made exceptions in other areas. These were women he had met professionally at conferences and allowed a friendship to develop. It was a judgement call on his part and something not taken lightly. Usually they were professional women, doctors, psychologists and consultants whom he felt were interested only in the sex and often with as much to lose as him in if anything became known. It was still a gamble but part of the erotic intensity of a new sexual encounter was the very risk it presented.

  Serafini always insisted from the beginning these sexual encounters would be a one off or twice if he felt it worthwhile. That way it stopped unwanted attachment issues developing that might prove disastrous. There was one exception, a woman who gave him so much pleasure that he kept coming back for more.

  Chapter 4

  The second letter was over three pages long, written on expensive paper that resembled parc
hment. It was composed using a different pen from the first. She had a collection of them, over twenty all kept in a wooden box.

  Holding the first page to his face Euan inhaled deeply feeling there was an unmistakable trace of perfume despite the years in the box and hoping it was not his imagination. This was something she had done with her early letters when they became partners.

  He used to know the name of the perfume having bought her a bottle for their first Christmas together. The scent brought tears as well as memories making him wonder if he had never really moved on in all that time.

  Dear Euan

  I thought about you when I was making my breakfast, which they say is the most important meal of the day. Despite work looming I always indulge myself in the morning since I can walk to the office in ten minutes and don’t run the risk of traffic jams making me late.

  Sometimes I think I am as anal as an engineer when it comes to boiled eggs, for there is a formula I use that combines the weight of the egg (maybe you would insist on the word mass like my dad!) to the time required when added to the boiling water. This big free-range beauty was given two minutes twenty seconds and it was perfect! The toaster is pre-set to give the required result when the toast is cut up into soldiers so they can be firmly dipped into the yolk.

  So there you go, my breakfast in words. I don’t know what you’re going to make of that, but I hope it makes you smile! And I hope your breakfast was as tasty as mine, though you probably have just cereal and coffee and run out the door your head full of facts and figures for the work ahead!

  Thank you so much for yet again providing escort duties to the art exhibition. I know you probably struggled with some of it which can be quite pretentious.

  You seemed to hit it off with Annabel’s boyfriend Peter whom I know is not into art either. You discussed football and sport which is very male. He is pragmatic like you and I suppose that is a good trait if you are going to be a doctor. Annabel was very taken with you, impressed by your quiet manner and honesty.

  Conversations at the flat afterwards were relaxed, stimulating and interesting. Maybe the wine helped and the food we all chose was excellent and tasty and that’s coming from a vegetarian. Sharing a meal with friends is surely one of the joys of living. But I hope you did not think I dominated the discussions or was too opinionated. I am passionate on certain issues as you have no doubt gathered! Your views were interesting and quite thoughtful, always using the analytical mind of a scientist.

  My dad tells me off frequently for my wild claims about naturalistic cures that are not, as he says, evidenced based! Maybe that is why I feel attracted to you for the psychoanalyst would say that a daughter often picks a partner to mimic her father? (Cannot believe I just wrote that! - Ignore if you want.)

  Anyway I always argue that we have a soul of sorts that generates feelings and emotions, and we should do well to listen to that voice. We have lost touch with our inner feelings and often live like automatons from day to day.

  Enough about me! How has your week been? I know you work for a civil engineering company that builds roads and hospitals and stuff which I must say sounds a trifle boring? (Although you did tell me you have been to Germany and Italy with your work so that must be a bonus.) But to you it must be different and doubtless we would not have the buildings that make up our cities without people like you. Hopefully you might explain more of your work to me someday and I promise to listen carefully.

  You said you would phone, and you did! Thank you for that - a man of his word! It was so good to hear from you. I suppose I am old-fashioned in believing a man should make the running. (Although I do sometimes get ahead of myself in letters!) What a pity I have to go down south on Saturday, but it is a longstanding arrangement, and my parents would be upset if I cancelled.

  Then you have a course up in Aberdeen which rules out the following weekend. But it’s not far in the train from Edinburgh to Glasgow so maybe in the future we can sneak in a quick mid-week meal?

  You were rather naughty when we embraced that evening after Annabel and Peter left us to say goodnight. Had the taxi’s arrival not been imminent I might well have asked you to stay but we both had work the next day and they say that pleasures postponed are pleasures increased. However I have to tell you that I can be demanding in bed and am not in any way a passive woman when it comes to sex.

  I also have to warn you that I have a strong sense of child that you may struggle with but if properly handled can be so rewarding. Anyway Euan, as usual, I have already said too much, but look forward very much to our next meeting.

  (Sorry just remembered you’re a STRUCTURAL ENGINEER!!)

  Ellie

  Holding the letter in one hand and closing his eyes, Euan felt the tension ease. Her words were so spontaneous and honest, written from the heart - just a simple outpouring of her conscious thoughts which she threw onto the paper usually without revision. It was what he eventually came to love her so much for. He knew she had authored articles as a freelance art critic for magazines, always clever, witty and informative. It was such a contrast to the formal engineering reports he had to read at work.

  She was right about her sense of child, for later it often caused a tidal wave of emotion in which he was reluctantly swept along. A liking for ‘Transactional Analysis’ or ‘Parent Adult Child’, Ellie would later accuse him of always using parent or child mode instead of responding as an adult - a theme she would return to during their relationship together.

  ‘There is no room for a parent-parent conversation between us unless we have children,’ she had said in the heat of a row. ‘And a parent-child conversation is usually toxic when that child is in his twenties! If you feel my requests are childish then respond in an adult manner. When you express your child I don’t try and diminish you.’

  It was at times infuriating but he had to admit she was good at bringing out what she called his little Euan, and they could giggle away a whole evening.

  Their next meeting was built on anticipation. He remembered the meal in Edinburgh, a newly opened Japanese restaurant which he felt was ridiculously expensive She insisted on paying as he had travelled through from Glasgow.

  They had both left the restaurant in good spirits though still feeling hungry. Once in the flat Ellie had brought out cheese and oatcakes to have with their wine. She had taken his hand going up the stairs and on entering her flat immediately asked him to choose a record from a large collection, eventually selecting a Dire Straits album which he put on at low volume so they could talk quietly. She said it was one of her favourite records.

  He had sat on the floor with his glass of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers on the coffee table while leaning against the couch. He had brought an overnight bag with the unspoken assumption that they would sleep together. It was still lying on the living room floor where he had left it on arrival at the flat before heading straight to the restaurant. Ellie smiled mischievously while picking it up and taking it through to the bedroom before joining him on the floor. It was settled then.

  They kissed leisurely and passionately while sipping their wine, both aware there was no need to rush. He ran a finger over a breast making her moan and push her lips hard against his. She then stroked his face with her fingers planting little kisses on his nose and eyelids.

  He felt the tenderness envelop him, seeking out her mouth and tongue with his finger, waiting for cues that would signal a move to the bedroom. Then to his complete surprise she suddenly broke free from the embrace and stood up.

  ‘We need to arm wrestle.’

  It still made him laugh now to think about it. She had sat on the opposite side of the table her elbow resting on the top. ‘Come on let’s see how strong you are.’

  He had protested though was careful not to make no derogatory comments about superior male strength. But she had insisted, holding out her hand.

  ‘Come on
big boy; show me your grip before we arm wrestle. I’ll squeeze yours first.’

  She was surprisingly strong, compressing his fingers to the point of discomfort. They locked eyes as Euan then gradually increased pressure on her hand where he felt it must be starting to hurt, yet she never winced.

  ‘You’re not trying.’

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

  ‘I don’t mind being hurt, just patronised. You assume you’re stronger than me.’

  It had all got a bit bizarre having gone from tenderness to almost physical aggression. He squeezed harder, studying her face for pain but Ellie just smiled. Finally, he had to use his full force to make her squeal.

  He stood up and tried to apologise, but she just leapt across the table into his arms knocking him backwards onto the couch which groaned alarmingly under their weight. They both burst out laughing.

  ‘You can fuck me now.’

  Chapter 5

  ‘I spoke to your boss in Inverness,’ Wallace announced as they sat in what Tosh felt must be Fort William’s coldest interview room. It was snowing periodically, and the wind outside was near gale force with the draughty windows letting in cold air that overpowered the central heating system.

  Tosh nodded saying nothing. The man Wallace was referring to was Divisional Commander Callum Campbell, a good man with an easy manner that made him well liked within the force in the highlands and islands. He was thorough though, seldom taking short cuts. He expected his men to do the same.

  Keen to improve relations with the public the Chief Superintendent had introduced a rota whereby every member of the force had to take turns going into schools to introduce themselves, talk about their duties as well as issuing serious warnings about drugs and carrying knives. For him prevention was better than cure and while Tosh was not a fan of this approach, he had to admit the number of juvenile arrests was falling.