Ice Cold Blood

by David W. Millar

  It was a struggle to get his boots off, cramp threatening to set in. She stripped effortlessly her small breasts visible in the diffuse moonlight that shone through the car windows. There was so little room, but Ellie took the lead by throwing all their gear onto the front seats to get more space before hauling his climbing trousers off and lying on top of him. There was a travel rug in the back, and she used that to cover them before kissing him slowly and passionately.

  ‘The cold’s impairing my performance,’ he groaned as her freezing hand confirmed his statement.

  She just smiled feeling with her other hand until she found her pants. Then in one of the most erotic gestures he had ever experienced she rubbed them between her legs before bringing them to his face.

  ‘Taste me, I’m so aroused.’

  His penis had stiffened instantly in response.

  ‘Right, looks like you’re ready now.’

  Chapter 8

  John Serafini was not good at lying. Despite having been a counsellor for over thirty years and observing prevarication regularly from clients, it was an art he had never mastered. In any case, his wife was clever and intuitive. She would spot deception instantly, so their relationship had been built on honesty if not openness. So far she had never asked questions where that integrity might have been compromised. It often made him wonder if she secretly suspected his acts of unfaithfulness but was afraid to open that Pandora’s Box.

  He knew the news report three days ago of the body of a woman found somewhere in Coire Leis was Ellie Saunders. They had climbed the route together the previous evening, digging a snow-hole with shovels before making love in the darkness while drips from the melting snow fell on their bodies. It had been one of her fantasies she had told him during a counselling session years ago. He had been more than happy to indulge that fantasy when she had phoned him unexpectedly and suggested they climb the route together that night and have sex in the darkness.

  Before they set off together from Edinburgh in his car Ellie had told him she wanted to spend the rest of the night in the hole alone so she could climb a couple of peaks solo in the morning. He had argued that she had no way back home without a car and that climbing on her own was dangerous. Her insistence had verged on anger, so he had eventually agreed. But when the time came for him to leave, he begged her to let him stay. They had been drinking whisky and he was worried she’d become hypothermic. But she started shouting at him and he relented.

  It was around 9 o’clock when he had reluctantly made his way back down in the darkness to the car before driving to Perth and spending the night in a hotel. In the morning he drove back home to his house in the Borders. The descent to his car had been exhilarating, the light from his powerful LED headlight casting eerie reflections while the sound of his footsteps on the snow echoed in the darkness. It had been a wonderful experience, Ellie, passionate, demanding and inventive in their lovemaking. She had produced a bottle of whisky and they had drunk a toast to sex on the hills before he left.

  The report on the television had mentioned head injuries and he could only guess that, despite being a competent climber, she had slipped and fallen to her death when climbing the next day. It came as a shock because he had loved her company and the intensity of their lovemaking. There was a real sense of loss and now he had to face up to the prospect of their fleeting affair becoming public knowledge.

  Despite the worry he found the psychology of his predicament interesting. Over the two days after the announcement about the finding of the body on the mountain countless internal conversations between competing psyches vied for the most favourable outcome. These ranged from: confessing to his wife and then phoning the police, contacting the police anonymously from a phone box and giving Ellie’s name, not informing his wife and contacting the police in person hoping they would be discreet in handling the matter. In the end he had clung to the most unreasonable denouement that it might not be her and any contact with the police could precipitate matters that could lead to his wife finding out. So he had done nothing, something he always told his clients was the wrong thing to do.

  Serafini had taken more chances with women as he got older. His advancing years told him his attractiveness was fading and to seize the day while he could. Their children had left home, and his wife had reduced to three days a week to help look after her ageing father who was showing increasing signs of dementia. She seemed more stressed now than ever, watching the father she knew and loved slowly degenerating in front of her eyes. Being medically trained did not help as she realised there was no hope of recovery. He liked her father and visited him regularly even when the old man stopped recognising him. And while Serafini had helped as best he could in giving his wife emotional support their relationship was taking a hit, and for the first time since their marriage he went to Italy alone that summer to visit the remnants of his family there. They went out less, hardly saw their friends and sex had become almost non-existent. He had more time on his hands, took on more clients and went climbing with his friends at weekends or used that pastime as an excuse when seeing various paramours. He knew she would find out sooner or later about his affairs but hoped she would come to accept that he was simply seeking comfort that was denied him at home. In many ways she was a pragmatic woman and might see the value of continuing their relationship for they had lived harmoniously for a long time, brought up their children well and complemented each other intellectually. But Ellie Saunders’s body found somewhere at Coire Leis might have dangerous consequences for it would then transpire he had been unfaithful to his wife for 25 years.

  And he knew this procrastination in not contacting the police would compound his problems. They would surely be suspicious about his motives in not reporting the fact he had spent the night in a snow-hole with her before she was found dead the next day. It made it more likely the story would be leaked to a journalist. And the papers would love it with headlines like Counsellor’s snow-hole lover found dead in the mountains. The strain that would put on their relationship might put it beyond recovery.

  Watching the Scottish news that evening changed everything, making Serafini realise he was no longer just a witness to the identity of a body found on the mountains, but potentially a prime suspect in a murder investigation.

  ---oOo---

  Tosh was now feeling happier. Joe Flint had agreed to travel to Inverness where he confirmed, informally at least, that the body was that of Ellie Saunders. They finally had a name. Flint had been warned to say nothing until her family had been informed. The deceased’s brother, Eamon Saunders, was on holiday in the States and since their parents lived in Gloucester it avoided any delay in getting on with the investigation now they had the body identified. Her mother and father had made the long and heart-breaking journey north the following day to complete the formal identification. Meanwhile he and McIntyre could now prepare statements to the media, arrange to interview her friends and work colleagues, study any social media accounts, and try and piece together the life story of Ellie Saunders that had ended with an axe through her head on a mountain in Scotland.

  Flint had been interviewed about their times together. They had been mostly dedicated to climbing, but there was no denying the intensity of those encounters, sexually and emotionally. Watching him discreetly when he saw her dead body in the morgue Tosh could see the pain in his face. It was obvious he cared for her. And he was not a suspect, his whereabouts in France confirmed and verified by the hotel and a work colleague. Before he left Tosh expressed his gratitude for all the help given.

  The pathologist’s formal report into the cause of death had finally indicated sharp force trauma to the head with injuries eventually leading to loss of life through shock and blood loss. There was a mention of early symptoms of hypothermia which may have contributed to her death and explained the lack of blood from the wound. That report made things official and it was now a murder investigation.


  Tosh knew the media would go into overdrive, for a murder on a mountain was a rare event and the circumstances would increase the sensationalism. Photos of Ellie would be obtained by whatever dubious methods journalists used and these eventually would emblazon the front pages of the national papers in Scotland. Details would leak, from someone in the police, regarding the ice axe and her naked body. The headlines would no doubt be sensational and graphic. And high-profile murders attracted all sorts of cranks. He wouldn’t be surprised if people arrived at the police station in Fort William making weird and wonderful claims of having seen ghostly walkers on the mountain or flying saucers that had landed recently. After a murder in Glasgow there had been three people, desperate no doubt to liven up their lives, who had confessed to the crime only to be released later with the usual warning about wasting police time.

  Meanwhile McIntyre had been dispatched to Edinburgh to interview friends and work colleagues. Within that group, they might find her killer. Tosh was convinced whoever had committed the crime was a fellow climber. In almost all murder cases the killer was known to the deceased. And Stephen Ainslie had seen two people, a man and a woman, climbing up the Coire Leis the night before her body was discovered; and Ainslie had expressed an opinion that they were both good climbers. That might be intuition on his part as they passed him that night, but Tosh was inclined to believe him. It had to be highly likely that these two figures were Ellie Saunders accompanied by someone who had ended her life in that snow-hole.

  She was by all accounts an accomplished climber and it would be unlikely she would form any relationship or partnership with someone who was not proficient on the mountains. But finding out that person’s identity might prove difficult. There were no CCTV cameras, no neighbours to hear screams and sufficient time for the murderer to get far away from the crime scene without being seen. Nonetheless they had the DNA of the last person to have sexual intercourse with Ellie Saunders.

  For the first time since his move to Inverness from Glasgow Tosh felt excited. It might turn out to be a difficult case, something to get his teeth into and prove his worth. It would be a welcome change from the humdrum of low-level Highland crime. There were three large flip charts in his office ready to be filled with flow diagrams that tried to link up all information that came in regarding the case. An Ordinance Survey map on the wall showed the exact location of the body with a large red dot. It was his favourite way of working any case and it had never let him down. And having Ian McIntyre as a partner was proving to be rewarding. He knew the mountains well and might have contacts that could prove useful. His methods could be described as old-fashioned, but he was conscientious and dependable, wrote up good notes and was never pushy. Tosh felt they made a good team.

  There were still nagging inconsistencies about the case. She had been close to death from hypothermia and was lying naked on the floor of the snow-hole when the axe was driven into her head. And if someone wanted her dead why not let her die from the cold? That was the biggest conundrum. And the pathologist’s report, which he had now read thoroughly, indicated that the blow had highly likely been delivered by someone sitting on Ellie Saunders. The angle of the penetration from the axe made it unlikely the aggressor had been standing over her which would have been easier in allowing a greater force to be delivered.

  It made him wonder if it had started out as a sexual game that had ended in violence? From experience he knew there were real psychos out there who got their kicks from receiving or inflicting pain. There were definite marks on her body that suggested she might have been strapped down and that could indicate some form of dominance or even bondage. It might have started out with her as a willing participant before things took a deadly turn. Sexual highs were sought in a variety of ways and Tosh was even willing to entertain the idea that the killer had necrophiliac tendencies and had sex with her after he had driven the axe through her head.

  The sound of his mobile phone scattered his thoughts. Caller ID showed McIntyre no doubt reporting back from a morning’s interviewing in Edinburgh.

  ‘Boss, I’ve just spoken to her colleagues at her work. They’re pretty upset but I got information about her friends and those she’d climbed with recently. Do you want me to follow that up now or come back to Fort William and discuss where we go from here?’

  Tosh smiled. He was enjoying working with McIntyre who was more than capable of acting under his own initiative and had the savvy to check things out with him first.

  ‘Thanks Ian, I’d appreciate if you came back to Fort William first.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. I’ve got the address of her flat in Edinburgh and one of her colleagues showed me her office and there was a bunch of keys in the drawer that might fit the locks there. Do you want me to check it out before I come back?’

  ‘Good idea. We might need fingerprints so step lightly. Look out for a computer or laptop and see what mail she’s got.’

  ‘Will do boss.’

  The phone rang again as soon as he had ended the call from McIntyre. Glancing at the caller ID made his heart race. It had been a long time since he had heard from her.

  Chapter 9

  Euan Hunter decided on a run that afternoon before reading the fifth letter from the pile. It would help lighten his mood and provide an antidote to his over-caffeinated state. There was a five-mile route that took him briefly out of the city by a woodland path and over an innocuous hill which always pushed the reading on his heart rate monitor to over a hundred and fifty. He was sweating profusely on his return.

  The letter this time was in standard black ink but, as always, compiled with a fountain pen allowing the swirls and flourishes that were the trademark of her profession. It bore the postmark from Gloucester. Using a magnifying glass, he could just make out the year and month – August 1988. They had both been busy with work and family commitments having not managed to see each other for over three weeks. He had been working away from home in Aberdeen while she had travelled to Gloucester to meet up with friends and see her parents.

  He remembered there had been no phone calls from her which had caused him angst, so he had secretly planned a trip for the following weekend to climb in the Torridons. It gave him a convenient excuse to call her before she went to Gloucester to see if she was free then and up for the climb. He knew that traversing the Torridon ridges gave glorious views if the weather permitted and Ellie would be enchanted by them. They both then arranged to take the Monday off from work and book accommodation for the weekend.

  Absence had heightened his desire for her both mentally and physically. She was like no other woman he knew, someone who attacked life and sought all the pleasures it could bring. He felt dragged along in her wake, but always as a willing participant. She talked of inner feelings, a soul and Karma; something he felt at one level was quite ridiculous, but paradoxically also drew him close to her He felt it was something she shared with him because he was special to her. She had said he was the Ying to her Yang. He was pragmatic and a reductionist while she was holistic with the whole always greater than the sum of the parts. He loved these observations on life.

  According to Ellie a mountain had a spiritual dimension; something she said was necessary to embrace as one climbed to the summit. You shouldn’t climb a mountain because it’s there, only to experience what nature had provided. It was a challenge, a journey through life and not a peak or a Munro to be ticked off in a notebook.

  In their conversations there was nothing off limits to Ellie. She asked about his sexual experiences with other women, pushed to know the intimate details and laughed at his discomfort. She talked openly about previous boyfriends, gave details about a memorable session in a toilet unaware of the silent stabs of jealousy he felt inside.

  At times it was difficult to focus on his work without thinking about her. A gut feeling told him not to appear needy as it would not endear him to her, so he had been wary of calling h
er too often. She had been thrilled with the idea of climbing the Torridon hills. He knew she was more into rock climbing than hill walking but there would be scrambling on the scree, and they could always take ropes and attempt climbs in the corries.

  Euan also knew he was falling in love with her. There were warning bells going off in his head, but he ignored them, just wanting to be with her forever.

  Dearest Euan

  I am so looking forward to our adventure on Ben Eighe next week and thank you for arranging this surprise. It sounds wonderful, long walks in the fresh air with beautiful scenery. And we will have two nights of passion in a strange bed after our outdoor exertions, so you’d better not get too tired! While I will admit I do prefer climbing and dangling precariously from an outcrop of rock to walking in the hills I am not going to pass up the chance to trample the heather with my favourite man. I have a proposal to make that we have a race to the summit from a predetermined point, the loser pays for dinner and I don’t want any chivalrous chicanery! I’ll know if you’re not trying 100%!

  It’s been pretty hectic here in Gloucester where I’m taking five minutes to dash off a letter to you before I catch the train back to Edinburgh. Met my old friend Susie for lunch today and she quizzed me the whole time about you and was annoyed when I didn’t have a photo to show her! I’ve known her since we were nine so we’re pretty close. It was great to catch up with her news.

  My dad showed me his latest mechanical inventions which are pretty cool. One of them is a device that will hit a gong at a particular time, so he knows when to go back to the house from his work shed for lunch or dinner. It’s pretty neat and the interconnecting cogs and ratchets are a work of art in themselves. I was surprised at the force it could generate and it really made it ring out.