Frozen in Crime

by Cecilia Peartree

  Chapter 26 The Lord Murray situation

  Visiting Old Pitkirtlyhill House again was quite high on the list of things Christopher didn’t want to do. He hadn’t enjoyed trekking through the snow, and he had been uneasy in Mal’s presence when they had last visited the house. Of course, if Mal was the gamekeeper’s son he might not be around the next time they visited. Maybe gamekeepers had to go out tending deer or whatever they did before hunting them down and killing them, and Mal might have to help his ageing father with this task. Or maybe Mal would have left for Africa to do his world-changing charity work as soon as the roads re-opened.

  And as for this golden peacock - he was still disappointed that it wasn’t an octopus, which would have been a bit quirkier and more unusual. In his opinion peacocks were over-rated, with their squawking and their boring brown female partners, whereas sea creatures came in all sorts of shades of ugliness, and it would have been interesting to see how a craftsman could turn that into something decorative.

  Amaryllis, of course, was so eager to get there that she had wanted to start straight away after speaking to the jeweller.

  ‘But we don’t want to be out there in the dark again,’ Christopher argued. ‘We’d be putting ourselves and others at risk again - just what Charlie Smith doesn’t want us doing.’

  For a moment he wondered if he had said the wrong thing and she would want to do the opposite, but after a moment’s pause she smiled and said, ‘Just as well one of is the sensible one, isn’t it? I don’t even know how we’re going to get there yet. I don’t suppose whatshisname at the Queen of Scots will get the Range Rover back for a while.’

  Christopher shuddered. ‘Do you really think he would let us use it again?’

  ‘Of course a team of huskies would still be best,’ said Amaryllis wistfully. ‘It’s such a waste of all this snow not to have a sleigh.’

  He noticed she was whistling ‘Sleigh Ride’ when he left her at the door of her apartment later.

  Now it was the next morning and even Christopher couldn’t think of an excuse to put off the visit to Old Pitkirtlyhill House any longer. Except that he didn’t have to think of an excuse. The snow was back, bigger, whiter and more lethal than ever. He had reluctantly tuned his radio to the local station but only so that he heard the local weather forecast and traffic news. The fact that there wasn’t any traffic news told its own story: there were power lines down, road blockages everywhere, and a party travelling by husky sleigh was lost somewhere at the other side of Dunfermline. He memorized the story so that he could pass it on to Amaryllis at some relevant time.

  Standing in the kitchen and looking out the window at the picturesque snow scene, eating toast and vaguely wondering if they would ever see anything normal like grass or tarmac again, or whether the whole world had turned white for ever as if they were living in a disaster movie, Christopher heard a noise outside his house.

  The door-bell rang. For a moment he considered not opening the door. He had the very strong sense that he would regret doing so.

  It kept on ringing.

  ‘All right, all right, I’m on my way,’ he muttered, stuffing the last bit of toast in his mouth.

  Dave stood on the door-step. He was muffled up to the eyebrows in layers of scarves and he wore a red woolly hat that had slipped down over one ear. There was a Land Rover at the gate, and Jemima and Amaryllis waved to him from it. He wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see Maisie Sue appear round the corner with a smile and a cheery seasonal greeting.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ said Christopher.

  ‘A friend,’ said Dave cryptically. ‘He doesn’t drive it much any more, so he thought I might as well have it until the truck’s fixed.’

  ‘Are you sure you want to bring Jemima along? What if we get stuck out by Pitkirtlyhill House again?’

  ‘It’s only a bit of snow,’ Dave scoffed. He seemed to have conveniently forgotten the events of Christmas Eve.

  ‘Come on, stop arguing, you two! Christopher, get your coat on,’ called Amaryllis from the back seat of the Land Rover.

  Christopher gave in. He couldn’t in all conscience let Dave and Jemima go out there into possible danger while he slumped in front of the fire eating toast, which was what he would prefer to have done. He doubted if he would even have encouraged Amaryllis to make the trip on her own, even although he was cross with her for dragging them all along with her in these weather conditions.

  ‘Why did you let them come?’ he muttered to her as soon as he was in the back seat of the Land Rover. ‘It’s far too dangerous.’

  ‘They insisted on it,’ she whispered back. ‘Jemima said she couldn’t stay in the house another minute, and Dave went and got the Land Rover from his friend. It’ll be fine. If anything goes wrong we’ll get them out of it first, even if we have to make Charlie Smith send a helicopter.’

  ‘I wouldn’t joke about that if I were you.’

  ‘What are you two whispering about?’ said Jemima.

  Typical, thought Christopher, she pretends not to hear what people are saying half the time, but picks up on anything you don’t want her to know.

  ‘Just saying we might need to get the police to send a helicopter to rescue us,’ said Amaryllis. ‘If we get stuck.’

  ‘Oh, that would be exciting,’ said Jemima. ‘Ever since Jock McLean got taken away by helicopter he’s boasted about it. It would be good if we could boast back.’

  ‘No way am I going to let them take me away in one of those things,’ shouted Dave above the roar the engine made as he accelerated up the hill. ‘If people were meant to fly in the sky we’d have been born with wings and a propeller, I always say.’

  Oh well, Christopher told himself as they lurched forward over the snowy ridges, at least we don’t need to have the radio on to entertain us.

  ‘They’ve been out all night clearing the top road,’ said Dave. ‘And gritting it. It said on the wireless this morning. So if we can get that far we’ll be fine.’

  ‘Didn’t they say it was only passable with extreme care?’ said Christopher, leaning forward so that Dave could hear him. He was immediately flung to one side by a great lurch of the car. Fortunately his seat belt saved him from actually damaging himself on the door frame.

  ‘They’re just saying that to stop idiots who can’t drive going out in those conditions,’ said Dave, making a gesture at the driver of a Fiat Panda which was coming towards him. He turned the wheel quickly to bring the Land Rover to its correct side of the road. ‘Like that one. See what I mean? I don’t know why people bother with those wee cars. Waste of space.’

  ‘Now, now, dear,’ said Jemima. ‘Live and let live.’

  She sat bolt upright in the front passenger seat, apparently impervious to both Dave’s driving and the weather conditions. Christopher began to revise his earlier opinion about the wisdom of letting the two of them come on this expedition up to Pitkirtlyhill. He and Amaryllis should just have sent Jemima and Dave there on their own. They were both born survivors, as various previous events had demonstrated.

  There was a snowdrift in the way just before they joined the main road.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Christopher. ‘We’ll have to go back.’

  ‘Oh, no we won’t,’ said Amaryllis, fishing a couple of shovels out from behind the seats. ‘Come along, Christopher. Time for some healthy exercise. Keep the engine running whatever you do, Dave.’

  They attacked the snowdrift, Amaryllis using quite a bit more energy than Christopher did. After what seemed like hours, they had cleared a gap that looked just about big enough for the Land Rover to get through. They climbed back in, faces glowing. Even Christopher had to admit the effort had certainly got his circulation going.

  Dave revved the engine and the vehicle lurched forward again and came to a halt. The wheels span for a few moments and then it went forward with a huge bump. Even Jemima had to cling on to the door-handle to stop herself falling. Then they were through and almost at the
roundabout on the main road. Christopher groaned inwardly. He had been very optimistic for a short while about being able to give up and retreat to Pitkirtly; now he thought about the side road that led up to the woods, and the trek through the grounds to get to the old house, and his legs started aching just from remembered pain.

  They were turning into the side road, Dave accelerating like mad to start the ascent, when they saw a small van.

  ‘It’s Rosie!’ said Jemima.

  ‘What?’ said Dave, over-steering and ending up on the main road facing in the wrong direction.

  ‘You’ve missed the turning!’ Jemima exclaimed. It was the first time Christopher had ever heard her comment adversely on Dave’s driving or navigational skills. She must be feeling a lot worse than she looked.

  ‘I haven’t missed it, dear,’ said Dave calmly. ‘I just slipped a bit on an icy patch. It’s driving a strange car that does it. If I had my truck… You’re right, it is Rosie.’

  ‘And Jock McLean,’ added Amaryllis, waving at them.

  Rosie had stopped her van and got out to see why they were on the wrong side of the road. Dave wound down his window.

  ‘What are you doing out in this?’ he said.

  ‘Cat litter,’ she said succinctly. ‘Plenty of food but I want to make sure I don’t run out of cat litter over New Year.’

  Dave shook his head. ‘You won’t get as far as a pet shop,’ he said. ‘Look at that sky - it’s going to snow again before the day’s out.’

  They all looked at the sky. Sure enough, the light had gone yellowish and the distinctive dark grey clouds were closing in again.

  ‘Damn,’ said Rosie. ‘Better get on back. What are you doing here anyway?’

  ‘Going to Old Pitkirtlyhill House,’ said Dave. ‘Amaryllis is on a case.’

  ‘What kind of a case?’ enquired Rosie.

  ‘Something to do with Lord Murray,’ said Dave. ‘Anyway, we’d better be getting up there. Are you going up the road again too?’

  ‘I’ll turn round and follow you up,’ said Rosie. ‘Then we can help each other if we get stuck. Do you want a hand with Lord Murray?’

  ‘No, you get on back up to the cattery,’ said Amaryllis hastily, before Dave could rope them in too. Christopher guessed she felt that Jock McLean might prove to be an awkward assistant when it came to dealing with the aristocracy. Although from what he knew of hereditary peers, which wasn’t a huge amount, some of them could probably match Jock for rudeness any time.

  ‘If you need any help, just call,’ said Rosie. ‘The phones are all back on now. We didn’t have any electricity for a day or two but that came back suddenly.’

  Christopher imagined the two of them, Rosie and Jock, huddled together for warmth like orphans of the storm. Then he tried to expunge the mental picture before it did some permanent damage to his brain.

  ‘You’re welcome to carry on up to the cattery when you’ve finished,’ Rosie added. ‘We’ve got plenty of cocoa and mince pies.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ said Amaryllis, watching Christopher.

  ‘I was just thinking about something,’ said Christopher.

  ‘Well, don’t think about it again. You looked as if you’d just eaten something revolting. Feverfew, or salad cream, something like that.’

  ‘I don’t mind salad cream,’ said Christopher.

  Then they were moving again, and he had to force his eyes to stay open as Dave took another run at the hill. This time he got past that dangerous road junction and by driving in a way that Christopher at least thought was quite skilful, he managed to bring the Land Rover to a halt in more or less the place the Range Rover had come to rest the other night - only without such dramatic results. Rosie swept on past them in her smaller van and up the hill towards the cattery.

  ‘I don’t think we’re going to get the gate open,’ said Christopher. ‘We’d better walk the rest of the way.’

  ‘We could try the gate - see if we get buzzed in,’ suggested Amaryllis. ‘You wait here and I’ll just go along there quickly and see if there’s any chance of anyone opening up for us.’

  She was just getting out of the Land Rover when Christopher said quickly, and without really knowing why, ‘Be careful.’

  ‘Aren’t I always?’

  He stared after her departing figure, his brow wrinkled in a frown.