Ice Cold Blood

by David W. Millar

  ‘Will it just be you and me?’ he raised an eyebrow. ‘Then I’d be able to find out your secret.’

  ‘There might be a couple of others joining us. I’ll tell you about my secret later.’

  ‘Later?’

  Ellie bent down so her face was level with his. ‘After we’ve fucked somewhere,’ she whispered before heading in the direction of the bar.

  ---oOo---

  The address he had was in Wanaka, a town in the South Island and, conveniently, not that far from Mount Cook. He drove there in his hired car feeling excited. It only took a couple of hours and he stopped at a pub in the main street for food. Flint had no name for the family, just an address. He had entered it in the Sat Nav and now it was only a few streets away.

  After his food, the excitement wore off, leaving him feeling depressed and anxious. What was he doing thousands of miles from home trying to catch a glimpse of someone who had lived their entire life without knowing that he, Joe Flint, existed? Someone who had a home and a life in a wonderful country with a mother and a father who had adopted him, cared for him and presumably loved him. Why bring disruption and confusion into his life?

  And to make matters worse Flint did feel like he was stalking someone. It seemed unhealthy and might be easily be misconstrued as dodgy since the boy was legally a minor. Would he park the car close to their house and just wait to see if a boy suddenly appeared? What did he hope to achieve? He had no plan. Was it not better to just leave now before he did something stupid - for already he was scanning faces on the street, looking anxiously to see if a boy walking by might be his son? And then what would he do, run over and say - so are you my long-lost son?

  There was no rush Flint told himself, inwardly fighting to stay calm. His flight home was four days away, giving plenty of time to formulate a plan, even if that plan meant giving up the quest. He could do a bit of sightseeing and go home. In any case he needed accommodation and decided to see if there was a hotel nearby. By luck he found one in a street close to the address he had for the boy and requested a booking for three nights. When the acceptance came through, he told himself it was a good omen and bought a beer at the bar.

  He wanted a name, something to hang onto and give him hope they might meet up some time in the future. There might be a surname on the door, or the electoral register could provide one. Then, if he could get a Facebook link there was nothing to stop him contacting the boy when he was 18. It might come as a shock to be told he had a Welsh father, but surely the boy, his son, had a right to know. Would it cause that much trauma to learn who your real father might be? Deep-down Flint knew that it might.

  It was too early to check in at the hotel, so he went for a walk to get some air. His thigh muscles ached from the exertions on Mount Cook and he stopped several times to stretch. Flint felt it a reminder of his advancing years, wondering how long he could continue punishing his body with these extreme outdoor sessions. But then how good would it be to have a son to pass his business on to.

  He walked close to the water of Lake Wanaka, taking in the stunning views while trying to calm his mind. Conflicting voices in his head took their turn, telling him it was natural to want to see a boy who might be his son, while another told him it was stupid and potentially damaging. If the boy found out he was adopted, it could cause all sorts of emotional trauma. Surely to just catch a glimpse of the boy would do no harm - if he left it at that and just flew back home to Wales.

  Sitting on a bench by the shore of the lake, Flint realised he was also being forced into taking stock of what lay ahead as he got older. There was no doubt he would have to cut down on some of the more arduous climbs soon and that could have a big effect on his life for he would have more time to fill. Life had usually been one adventure after another, and running a business meant long hours of preparation before getting to any destinations. He knew his work gave him purpose.

  It had become a successful business and he was well off financially. And he had travelled most of the globe, forging friendships on the icy slopes of some of the most difficult mountains in the world. He valued these friendships for they had enriched his life; people he had put his trust in when dangling from the end of a rope. Most of them were getting older too and would welcome his visits at any time. So there was always the possibility of giving an ageing body more of a break by cutting back on work and becoming more sociable.

  There had been a few serious relationships, but no one he could ever have envisaged spending his life with - and he knew that included Ellie. It would have complicated his job and threatened the freedom that went with it. The downside to that was the spectre of loneliness in old age. No one there that really cared for you. Maybe it was now time to find a partner.

  Looking at his watch Flint realised he could check in at his hotel, so he made his way back to the pub to pick up his car. He found it easily enough, unpacked and had a quick shower before heading out. The street was close by and Flint was soon walking casually towards the number of the house that Euan Hunter had given him. There was no car in the driveway, but a couple of bikes had been discarded on the tarmac making it look like there might be two children living in the house. Flint slowed as he passed but could detect no movement inside. Stopping by the small wall that bordered the garden of the property with the pavement, he put one foot on top, pretending to tie his shoelace. He could make out the name of Carter engraved on a slate nameplate by the front door.

  By luck there was a bus shelter just along from the house with some people waiting inside. Flint took out his phone, pretending to make a call while never taking his eyes off the house. The arrival of a bus was clearly imminent, some people looking at watches or checking phones. Flint wondered if it would look suspicious if he didn’t board? Fortunately, when it did arrive two people didn’t get on, obviously the stop served different routes. Putting the phone away he looked at the timetable attached to the bus shelter and saw the arrival times. The next one was five minutes away allowing him some time to think. Then he saw the car approaching. It indicated before slowing down and turning into the drive.

  He took a few steps towards the house, taking out the phone again and pretending this time to answer a call. He walked up and down, gesticulating with his free hand while holding an imaginary conversation. A man got out of the car and shouted something that Flint couldn’t make out. The front door opened and a boy of about 13 came running out and bounded down the steps, shouting an apology. The man, clearly annoyed, gesticulated towards the bikes that were blocking the driveway. Flint heard him address the boy as Richie before one of the bikes was picked up and wheeled away. A young girl then appeared from the house to grab the other bike, also taking it round the back of the building. The man got back into his car and drove it into the garage.

  Now standing in the middle of the street and staring at this typical family scene, Flint felt his heart race. The boy who had been addressed as Richie suddenly reappeared from round the back of the house and turned to look at this stranger standing only a few metres away. Their eyes met before the boy turned away, taking the steps two at a time and disappeared into the house.

  Flint suddenly heard the noise of the approaching bus, the rational part of his brain telling him he should get on it. As he turned and walked towards it, he was unaware that the driver of the car was now standing in the middle of the driveway, looking at him intently. As he boarded the bus, there was little doubt in Joe Flint’s mind, that the boy who had been addressed as Richie, was his son.

  Chapter 39

  ‘You’re not bad on the hills despite all that moaning when you were out with Ian,’ Shona laughed, swinging his arm as they marched up Ben Nevis. ‘You just need to get your muscles used to walking up some steep inclines. If we went out once a week, I bet you’d soon be setting a cracking pace.’

  They had set off at first light to make the ascent to Coire Leis where her body had been found, driving
first to the car park where John Serafini and Ellie had parked the night she was killed. Tosh still had the boots he’d previously borrowed and another keen hill walker from the Force had lent him a climbing jacket. There was still snow on the ground, and a biting wind was blowing hard making him grateful that it kept out the worst of the cold.

  ‘Well I doubt I’ll be taking it up as a hobby,’ he laughed. ‘Indoor fives or a workout in a warm gym is more my thing.’

  ‘But look at these surroundings. They’re breath-taking, surely that’s worth something?’

  He grabbed her round the waist, pulling her towards him so he could kiss her. ‘You’re the only scenery I’m interested in.’

  She wrapped her arms around him to prolong the kiss and they stood motionless for a few moments before continuing the ascent.

  ‘Do you know what you’re looking for up here?’

  ‘I want to focus my mind on all the possibilities concerning Ellie’s murder and maybe seeing the spot where we found her will help,’ he paused for a few seconds and sighed. ‘Colin Campbell called me yesterday. Since we have a suspect, I’m under pressure to drop the investigation and get back to Inverness and my day job.’

  Shona nodded but said nothing. It took well over two hours to drive from Fort William to Inverness and knew it would put constraints on their relationship. The road was sometimes impassable in the winter.

  ‘I’ll get down to see you while I can and I hope you’ll manage up to Inverness,’ he smiled reading her mind. ‘Meeting you has been the one highlight of having to investigate a murder on a bloody mountain in winter. And it’s my turn to cook for you – maybe roast beef.’

  ‘Well that sounds wonderful. We can meet sometimes halfway at Invermoriston for lunch. That means we’re splitting the driving.’

  ‘I’m more than happy to drive two hours to see this lovely lady.’

  She responded by snuggling into his body as flakes fell from what appeared a cloudless sky.

  ‘God where’s this white stuff coming from?’

  ‘The wind can blow it for miles. Trust me, there’s not going to be any heavy dump soon.’

  ‘You’ve climbed a lot then?’

  ‘I’ve tried ice and rock climbing, but much prefer hill walking. You can still get caught out though and I look up the forecast before setting out and watch the sky all the time.’

  ‘Well I’m glad one of us is doing it. I’m lost already!’

  ‘There’s some fantastic walks around here so be warned - you’ll be doing some of them with me.’

  He almost made a joke about sex in a snow-hole but thought better of it.

  ‘If that’s the case maybe we’d better just meet at Invermoriston then.’

  She pushed him playfully, making him lose his balance and fall into the snow. Still on the ground he immediately scooped some snow up, pressing it into a ball and throwing it at her. It hit her on the head making her squeal in surprise. She retaliated by using her hands as shovels and spooning copious quantities of snow into his face. Tosh leapt to his feet and lifted her off the ground spinning her round. They both collapsed laughing onto the snow.

  A couple of walkers appeared, amused at their antics. One of them recognised Shona and came over for a chat. Feeling a bit foolish and red-faced Tosh rose to his feet while Shona introduced him. When they had gone, she suggested they have a short break and coffee.

  ‘How far is it to where we found her?’ he asked, sighing contentedly as he drank his coffee.

  ‘Probably about half an hour but it gets a bit steeper now,’ she replied handing him a sandwich.

  ‘Have you ever stayed the night in a snow-hole?’

  ‘I love hill walking and I’ve camped out in the summer although the midges can be awful. But I draw the line at sleeping out in the winter. It’s freezing and I doubt I’d be able to keep warm through the night. It would be easy to get hypothermia, fall asleep and never waken up. You’d really have to love the outdoors to risk that.’

  ‘Well Ellie Saunders certainly loved the outdoors and pushed herself hard.’

  ‘So I doubt she’d allow herself to get close to hypothermia.’

  ‘Hypothermia, that word haunts me. Why did someone murder someone who was close to death?’

  ‘I don’t have the answer to that but that’s long enough for a break,’ Shona declared screwing the cup back onto the flask. ‘It never pays to hang about for too long.’

  They reached the crime scene after 40 minutes of steady exertion. Tosh could feel sweat on his body and was tempted to stop and take his jacket off. Shona was striding out and for the sake of his pride felt it necessary to match her step.

  ‘That was hard,’ he admitted, sliding the rucksack off his shoulders. ‘I need to get fitter than this.’

  ‘So this is where Ellie was found?’ Shona asked quietly.

  Tosh nodded while crouching down. There were still some marker pegs stuck into the ground giving evidence of police activity. ‘There’s not so much in the way of snow now, but her body was lying about here.’ He drew a line in the snow with a gloved finger. ‘You never get used to seeing dead bodies, especially ones that have died violently.’

  Shona touched his shoulder. ‘I’ve passed this way a few times; it will have a different meaning now.’

  Tosh straightened up and began wandering about. ‘Is this a regular place where climbers stay overnight?’

  ‘It’s quite popular and mountain rescue sometimes train their volunteers around here.’

  ‘So Ellie walks up here that evening with John Serafini. They dig out a snow-hole, get inside, drink whisky and have sex. That much we know is certain. Then, according to Serafini, she suddenly tells him to leave and he walks back in the pitch black to his car.’ Tosh paused to look at Shona, who nodded in agreement. ‘Now it’s a bit strange that Ellie asked him to leave. They had driven up in his car so how was Ellie going to get back? And there’s the missing rucksack. Serafini claims he never took it.’

  ‘Maybe Ellie expected to be walking down to the car park in the morning with Serafini, but they got into an argument about her telling his wife and he killed her. Then he’d want to get down the mountain quickly,’ Shona argued. ‘And you said he drove to Perth before he found a guest house. That sounds a bit suspicious to me - why not just drive back to his home in Edinburgh in the morning.’

  ‘He told me he’d said to his wife he’d not be back till the following day and didn’t want her to get suspicious? Said he often signed in under Wilson as a precaution in case his wife found out.’

  ‘A bit convenient.’

  ‘Yes, a bit.’

  ‘So he drives while under the influence?’

  ‘I just don’t know.’

  ‘Still looks to me like Serafini did it.’

  ‘If what Serafini said is true then maybe Ellie was expecting someone in the morning?’

  ‘Euan Hunter maybe?’

  ‘Well he doesn’t have any corroboration for his alibi. I keep feeling I’m missing something, something important.’

  ‘You said that Ellie was killed by her father’s axe?’

  ‘That’s doing my head in as well,’ Tosh sighed. ‘She never used his ice axe for climbing before - so why take it that night?’

  ‘Did you find anything else?’

  ‘Just a rusty spring that my colleague’s been trying to get some info on. It’s a bit like the ones used in trampolines to attach the material to the metal frame. It’s older in design and there’s no manufacturer’s mark to go on. There seems to be no link to any climbing gear, and it was found well outside the snow-hole so it might have nothing to do with the case.’

  ‘Ski bindings?’

  Tosh shook his head. ‘Apparently not.’

  ‘You said that Ellie was a bit like her dad, good at making things. Maybe the spring was part of somet
hing she’d made.’

  ‘’Not sure what you mean, Shona.’

  ‘I don’t know, maybe an invention holding her gear together, ropes, crampons - that sort of thing?’

  Tosh looked at her and nodded slowly before groaning. ‘God it’s you that should be the detective. There’s something I should have done days ago when I had the chance.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Show that bloody spring to Alan Saunders.’

  ---oOo---

  Dear Euan

  They say that sex after a prolonged absence produces the most heightened responses. Well after our night of extreme passion I would have to agree. It was so wonderful to feel you inside me again, controlled and masterful. I think I must have orgasmed three times that night. (Very loudly!) You haven’t forgotten how to push my buttons and hopefully I pushed a few of yours too. But then I think you were turned on by other thoughts, weren’t you, you naughty boy?

  It was so comfy to stay in a hotel room as it was a bit cold outside to fuck in a car! And it gave us both a chance to catch up with our news. I’m glad we’re back together - it feels right. We’ve both made mistakes in the past but since I’ve come back from New Zealand my life has improved and I feel I have a purpose. I haven’t completely stopped my medication but have reduced it to a minimal dose.

  So what do I want out of life now? Well I want to expand my business and create more employment. I want to be an example to women of what can be achieved in what is still essentially a man’s world. I want to scale as many peaks around the world as I can, and I want to meet my friends more often and make new ones on my travels. You must agree these are noble aims.

  I feel you have changed too - maybe being a father has done that? You speak fondly of your daughter and you are justifiably proud of her. But you also seem calmer and more relaxed than before. Yes, you were always great company, but now you’ve become the ‘big easy,’ someone who laughs more and worries less. Maybe that way we can stay friends, lovers and who knows?