Frozen in Crime Page 4

  Chapter 4 One shopping day

  In some ways Christopher was glad Christmas Eve fell on a Saturday this year. It gave him the chance to do his shopping in the time-honoured male way, rushing around town a couple of hours before everything closed, spending too much money and buying extra, unsuitable presents for people. He was also glad Caroline and the kids weren’t going to attempt the journey over from Edinburgh before Christmas, although he had promised to go over to see them between Christmas and New Year if the weather improved. It was more fun for the kids spending the festive season at home, where they could chill out and play computer games all day if they wanted, and eat what they liked, without having to be nice to their boring old uncle. Caroline had made friends with another single parent down the road and the two families were going to share Christmas dinner. He hadn’t heard much about this friend and didn’t even know whether it was a man or a woman. Either would be fine, if it meant Caroline wasn’t completely dependent on him for adult company. He and his sister hadn’t always got on well together, although in the past six months or so they had arrived at some sort of an adult relationship with each other.

  By mid-afternoon, when it was starting to get dark, he had almost finished his shopping - he and Amaryllis were to spend Christmas Day with Jemima and Dave, so he didn’t need to buy much in the way of festive food. He was more or less happy with the presents he had bought: as he got older, he was more easily satisfied on that score, considering his job done if he had actually got something to give each of the people who were likely to expect a gift from him.

  Jan in the wool shop had advised him to get beads and some of the little twiddly things she sold for making jewellery. Apparently Jemima had recently taken up creating necklaces for unsuspecting friends. He wondered if Amaryllis was due to be the lucky recipient of one. He was tempted by a children’s knitting kit as a joke present for Amaryllis, who had been trying to learn to knit for some time though with very little success, but he decided he didn’t want to risk annoying her on Christmas Day. She had been moody for the past few weeks, but he wasn’t sure why. He wondered if it was restlessness. It was quite a while since she had been away on one of her mysterious missions, and he had suspected her of losing her nerve slightly, but of course he would never have dared to suggest this even as a theoretical possibility.

  He trekked through the snow to the Queen of Scots to see if she was there. The blizzard of the day before had left the whole town under a layer of fresh snow so thick that it could hardly be called a blanket any more - it was either a duvet or a bundle of loft insulation, he decided as he trudged along on the road, which was slightly less impassable than the pavement, but freezing over fast in the rapidly plummeting temperatures around dusk. He hoped Dave and Jock had got up to the cattery all right this morning. The main roads at least should have been cleared and gritted. Maybe he should give Jemima a ring and see if Dave was back yet. He took out his mobile phone but the battery was dead. Even giving it a good shake didn’t revive it, and then he dropped it in a clump of snow and had to dry it off with some new thermal socks he had been planning to give Dave because the bottle of whisky he had bought weeks ago suddenly didn’t seem exciting enough.

  The Queen of Scots was unnaturally quiet. The landlord stood morosely behind the bar, polishing glasses.

  ‘Marie Celeste, or what?’ he said.

  ‘Has Amaryllis been in?’

  ‘Haven’t seen her. So she probably hasn’t - she wouldn’t exactly be able to hide in the milling throng.’

  It was unusual for the landlord to be so talkative. He must be desperate. Just to keep him company, Christopher ordered a pint of Old Pictish Brew and sat at the bar instead of going to the usual table.

  ‘Do you know what the main roads are like?’ he asked, making conversation.

  ‘Bad,’ said the landlord. ‘The Forth Road Bridge is closed. The trains have stopped running. You aren’t going anywhere for Christmas.’

  ‘No, I’m not, but how did you know?’

  ‘Neither is anybody else. Going anywhere.’

  Suddenly Christopher wondered whether the landlord had anywhere to go, or anyone to spend the festive season with. Of course he would be occupied in the pub a lot of the time, but did he have any existence outside it?

  He had opened his mouth with the intention of asking some personal question or other that he knew he would at some later stage regret asking, when the phone rang at the end of the bar. The landlord answered it. He listened for a moment and then said to Christopher, ‘It’s for you.’

  ‘For me?’

  ‘You’re Christopher Wilson, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes but -’

  ‘Here you go.’

  Christopher, still mildly surprised, put down his pint glass, walked along to the end of the bar and accepted the receiver from the landlord.

  ‘You’re there. Good,’ said Amaryllis.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Just a wild guess. It was either the Queen of Scots or Jan’s wool shop. That’s where I saw you last.’

  ‘Have you been following me?’

  ‘No. I just happened to be in the High Street getting last-minute socks for Dave, and I saw you.’

  ‘I got last-minute socks for Dave too!’ Then Christopher remembered what had happened to the socks, and fell silent.

  ‘I’m phoning about Dave, actually,’ said Amaryllis. ‘And why don’t you have your mobile on? I thought we talked about that before and you agreed it was pointless having a mobile if you didn’t charge it up and keep it switched on.’

  ‘Sorry. What’s happened? Is Dave all right?’

  ‘Promise not to panic?’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, just tell me what’s wrong. Have they had an accident?’

  ‘They got up to the cattery all right. Jock’s there now, with Rosie.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Jemima phoned me and I’m at her house now. Dave hasn’t got back yet.’

  ‘OK,’ said Christopher, trying not to sound as if he was panicking, but actually feeling as if he had been hit in the stomach by a football. ‘What time did he leave Rosie’s?’

  ‘They went up about ten o’clock this morning. They got there at twelve and then the weather started to close in again so Dave turned round and started to come straight back.’

  ‘Idiot! He should have stayed up there!’

  ‘But he didn’t want to disappoint Jemima,’ said Amaryllis. ‘It’s their first Christmas together.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ said Christopher, knowing he was only quibbling to avoid having to think this through. ‘They were together last year - and maybe the year before too.’

  ‘The first one since they were married, though. It means a lot to Jemima.’

  ‘Yes, I know… So he’s been on the road for - what, four hours?’

  ‘About that.’

  There was a pause. Christopher couldn’t think of anything he could say or do that would help in any way. Why had she even bothered ringing him? He was such a waste of space.

  ‘Have you called the police?’ he asked at last.

  ‘They said it could easily take him that long to get down from the moors, with the roads the way they are, even if nothing went wrong. They said they can’t go and scour the area for him because they don’t have the man-power. If he was out overnight then -’

  Amaryllis stopped in mid-sentence, her voice trembling slightly. He couldn’t remember her ever sounding so upset before, not even when the village hall burned down.

  ‘If he was out overnight, it would be a different story. They’d start a search in the morning.’

  ‘In the morning?’ said Christopher incredulously.

  ‘They said he shouldn’t have gone out in the first place: there were lots of severe weather warnings in place.’

  ‘Severe weather warnings? Since when did Dave pay any attention to those? He thinks he’s indestructible, that’s his problem!’

  There was a pause at
the other end of the line, and Christopher heard someone else speaking faintly in the background, then Amaryllis spoke again.

  ‘Jemima says don’t be cross with Dave. He was only trying to help everybody.’

  ‘I’d better come up to Jemima’s,’ said Christopher. ‘Then we can try and work something out. Does Dave have a mobile with him?’

  ‘He’s left it on the kitchen table. Ring any bells?’

  Christopher finished the call rather abruptly - he didn’t like to be reminded of his failure to get to grips with mobile technology - and decided reluctantly that he would have to abandon the pint of Old Pictish Brew that he had barely started.

  ‘Trouble?’ said the landlord casually.

  ‘Looks as if Dave may have got himself stranded,’ said Christopher, trying to match the other man’s untroubled demeanour.

  ‘That’s bad,’ said the landlord. ‘I wouldn’t fancy being out there in this.’

  ‘No, neither would I,’ said Christopher. ‘But it might come to that.’

  ‘Well, let me know if you need transport,’ said the landlord unexpectedly. ‘I’ve got my Range Rover round the back there with chains on the tyres and snow-shoes in the back - but I’m not going anywhere in it for a day or two.’

  ‘Thanks - we might take you up on that.’

  Christopher found his eyes were a bit wet as he stepped out into the cold again - of course, it was only the sudden change in temperature that did that. Not that he was at all touched by the landlord’s offer.