by Val McDermid
Charlie sighed. 'Not everybody has that reaction. Some people see the landscape almost as a challenge. "You might be big and you might be here long after I'm gone, but I'm going to make my mark too, just you watch".'
'Why couldn't she just kill her someplace ugly? Make it look like a mugging?'
'Because she's clever enough to know that the police are not stupid. Smart guys like Nick are trained to tell the difference between a real mugging and a fake one. If Jay had formed the intention of killing Kathy Lipson, it was a clever move to bring her to a place where there's so much lethal potential. People die on the Scottish mountains every year. Some of them from inexperience, arrogance and stupidity. But for some of them, it's just bad luck. Either way, you're dealing with a system that's predisposed to see accident rather than design.'
Maria nodded. 'So you're saying that Jay took advantage of the psychological environment as well as the physical one?'
'It looks that way.'
'It's a bit chancy, isn't it? I mean, a lot of things had to come together for it to work. The weather conditions, Kathy agreeing to such a potentially dangerous climb, there not being anybody else around.'
Charlie slowed as they crossed the Atlantic. 'We're actually driving over a finger of an ocean now. How amazing is that?' They were both silent for as long as it took them to reach land again. 'It wasn't as chancy as you might think,' she said. 'I managed to track down the Fatal Accident Inquiry online. There was a list of witnesses, the mountain rescue guys, so I was able to track a couple of them down. The Scottish court records system is amazing. Open access to all sorts of stuff--'
'Never mind that,' Maria interrupted. 'What do you mean, it wasn't chancy?'
'Her father gave evidence at the inquiry, and he talked about how experienced she was. She'd climbed in the Alps, in the Rockies, in the Andes. She'd done ice climbing before, and she'd always talked about doing the winter traverse of the Cuillins. So if Jay wanted to set her up, it was handed to her on a plate. If anything, Jay was the less experienced climber in winter conditions. Where she nearly got seriously unlucky was in getting hurt herself.'
'If she really did get hurt,' Maria said. 'She didn't break anything, did she?'
'No, she tore the ligaments in her knee.'
Maria snorted. 'It's easy to make out that a soft tissue injury's a lot worse than it really is.'
Charlie grinned. 'You're starting to sound like Corinna.'
'Well, the more you tell me about these so-called accidental deaths, the more unlikely they sound.'
'But there's no proof. It's all very suggestive, but there's nothing I can take to the cops and say, "Look, here's incontrovertible evidence that somebody committed murder." And without that, it's just a slander action waiting to happen.' Her voice trailed off as she tried to make sense of the sat-nav. 'I think I have to go left here,' she said.
Maria took the printed instructions out of the glove box. 'Yes. Then after four miles you turn right and the hotel's on the left.' She looked across the empty landscape of machair and rock. 'I'm starting to understand why she could expect to be undisturbed up there. The only things with a pulse are the sheep.'
'Yeah. Apparently some of the routes up here get busy, but only in the summer months. In the winter it's not hard to be alone in the Cuillins.'
'See, that's why I like walking, not climbing,' Maria said. 'Less opportunity to get shoved off a precipice if you get bored with me.'
Charlie forced a laugh. 'As if.'
'As if you'd shove me, or as if you'd get bored?'
'Both,' Charlie said firmly. And it was true. That was the worst of it. She wasn't bored with Maria. Just then she saw a signboard for the hotel. 'There it is,' she said. 'Glenbrittle Lodge Hotel.'
They turned off the single-track road towards a low stone building that sprawled across the flat bottom of a glen flanked on both sides by slopes of grey scree. Its slate roof and broad gables gleamed in the late afternoon light. 'It's amazing how many shades of grey and green there are,' Charlie said as they approached.
'Almost as many as there are shades of teeth,' Maria said. 'You'd be amazed at the colour chart for crowns and veneers.'
By the time they made it to their room, they were both charmed by the hotel. As they'd drawn up alongside the half-dozen cars already there, a young man in work boots, a kilt and a ghillie shirt had emerged and insisted on carrying their bags into a wood-panelled reception area where a log fire crackled and hissed in a deep stone fireplace. A decanter and glasses sat on the check-in desk, and before they could protest, they each had a whisky in hand. 'This started life as a hunting lodge,' the young man said, his accent revealing that wherever he was a local, it wasn't here. 'We kept the traditional feel as much as possible. We're pretty quiet this weekend, so we've upgraded you to the Sligachan suite. It's got a view right up the glen towards the Cuillin. I think you'll like it.'
He was right. Maria surveyed the bedroom with its kingsize four-poster and subdued tartan fabrics while Charlie checked out the marble and painted porcelain of the bathroom. 'Wow,' Maria said, crossing to the window and checking out the view. 'This is lovely, Charlie.' She swung round as Charlie came back into the room. 'Come here.' She opened her arms and Charlie stepped into her embrace, losing herself momentarily in familiarity, wishing this oddly tender moment could expand to push out any other thoughts or feelings. Maria nuzzled her ear. 'When was the last time we did something this romantic?' she whispered.
Charlie chuckled. 'What? Tried to nail a serial killer? I can't think.'
Maria laughed, pushing her away. 'Kill the moment, why don't you? So, what's the plan for this evening?'
'It would be good to see if any of the staff were around ten years ago. I was hoping for an aged retainer. Maybe the barman will be more of a relic. But right now, I want a bath and a nap before dinner.' She twitched one corner of her mouth in a half-smile. 'You could join me if you wanted?'
Maria didn't need asking twice. And if Charlie's mind slipped sideways a couple of times in what followed, she didn't think Maria noticed. There were worse sins, and she hadn't committed them yet, after all.
It was almost eight before they made their way down to the restaurant, another panelled room with beautifully laid tables gleaming with silver and crystal. Only two tables were occupied and the waiter seated them on the other side of the room so they had a sense of privacy. The mood between them was relaxed and intimate. Charlie felt less tense than she had for weeks. She picked up the menu and made her choices quickly. Then she looked around properly for the first time, shifting slightly so she could check out the other tables while Maria was still frowning over the possibilities.
It was as well that Charlie didn't have a mouthful of food or drink or she would have choked. At first, she couldn't believe her eyes. But there was no mistake. Across the room, two women were leaning across their table towards each other, talking animatedly in low voices. The younger woman, an unexcitingly pretty blonde in a multicoloured silky shirt, was a stranger. But sitting opposite her, apparently oblivious to anyone or anything else, was Lisa Kent.
If she'd just taken a punch to the head, Charlie couldn't have been more dazed. What the fuck was going on? Lisa knew her plans. But she'd said nothing to indicate that she would be here. Yet here she was, flirting with another woman in the very restaurant where she knew Charlie and Maria would be at dinner. It beggared belief. Suddenly realising that Maria was speaking, Charlie pulled attention back to her own table. 'Sorry?'
'I said, do you think they're batting for our team,' Maria said, inclining her head towards Lisa and her dinner date.
'If not, they should be,' Charlie said mechanically. 'What are you having? Have you decided?'
Afterwards, Charlie would remember nothing of what she'd eaten or drunk, except that quite a lot of red wine was part of the deal. Judging by Maria's rave reviews, the food had been exceptional, and she must have managed to keep up her end of the conversation. But all she could think about wa
s Lisa on the other side of the room and what her presence might mean. Was Lisa crazy? Was she trying to create some monstrous confrontation? Or worse, some bizarre girlfriend-swapping encounter group? Or could it possibly be that she was as stricken with Charlie as Charlie was with her? She hadn't allowed herself to think that way before, but it was feasible. Wasn't it? But if Lisa was drawn so powerfully to Charlie, why had she brought someone else with her? Was she trying to make Charlie jealous? If so, she'd succeeded.
The other women left the restaurant before Charlie and Maria, nodding a polite greeting in passing as one does to fellow guests in a small hotel. 'They seem friendly,' Maria said. 'Maybe they'll be in the bar afterwards.'
'I'm not sure I want another drink,' Charlie said.
'I thought the point of us being here was for you to interrogate any passing islander?' Maria's voice was teasing. 'Or have you rediscovered a better reason for whisking your beloved off to romantic hotels?'
The idea of making love with Maria while Lisa was in the same building was impossible, Charlie realised. 'I think you've had the best of me,' she said. 'And you're right, of course. I shouldn't forget why we're here.' She drained her wine. 'Come on then, let's go and see if the bar staff were out of nappies when Jay and Kathy were here.'
The bar was a cosy room at the far end of the hall. Lisa and the other woman were sitting near the door, as far from the bar as possible. As they walked in, Lisa turned the full blaze of her eyes on Maria. 'Hi,' she said. 'Can I persuade you to join us for a drink? It seems silly to sit on opposite sides of the room.'
Before Charlie could refuse, Maria had already accepted the invitation. 'Thanks. I'm Maria, by the way, and this is Charlie.'
Lisa gave Charlie a welcoming smile, inclining her head. 'I'm Lisa. And this is Nadia.'
Nadia waggled her fingers at them. 'This is cool,' she said.
'Let me go and get some drinks,' Charlie muttered. 'What can I get you?'
'We're both drinking red wine.'
'I might as well get a bottle, then,' Charlie said, heading for the bar. There was nobody in sight, but a notice next to a bell push instructed her to press for service. She couldn't decide whether bewilderment or fear had the upper hand. Before anyone could respond to the bell, Lisa appeared at her side.
'I told Maria I'd help you choose,' she said.
'Are you fucking her?' It was out before Charlie could stop herself. Low and harsh, bitter and brutal.
'I could ask you the same question,' Lisa said. 'And it would be just as meaningless. We both know sex can mean everything or nothing. And we both know whatever is happening between us, it's about a lot more than sex. Smile, Charlie, Maria can probably read your body language at a hundred yards.'
Just then, the young man from reception arrived behind the bar. He grinned and said, 'Tonight I am the jack of all. What can I get you ladies?'
'We'd like a bottle of red. A Shiraz or something similar,' Charlie said.
'We like something fruity and chewy,' Lisa said with as much innuendo as a seventies comedian.
The barman blushed. 'I'll see what I can do,' he said, disappearing again.
'Why are you here?' Charlie said. 'And why are you pretending you've no idea who I am?'
Lisa smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. 'Relax, Charlie. You already played the incognito trick on me, remember? I thought it might be fun to turn the tables. And I wanted to see you. Is that so bad of me?'
Charlie felt herself softening. If Lisa's feelings were anything like her own, it made perfect sense. She could imagine doing the same thing. 'No,' she said. 'I just wish you'd given me some warning.'
'That would have taken all the fun out of it.'
'It's not a game, Lisa. Maria's here. How do you think she's going to feel down the line if I leave her for you and she remembers this weekend? She's going to feel humiliated.'
Serious now, Lisa nodded. 'You're right. I'm sorry. But I couldn't help myself. I know this is going to sound a little strange. But you know what I really wanted?'
'No, I don't. Because what is happening to me now is so out of my experience.' Charlie forced a smile in Maria's direction.
'I wanted to see what you're like when you're not with me,' Lisa said. 'I wanted to see the sides of you that I would never see otherwise. If I'm going to be with someone I want to make an informed decision.'
Charlie's reply was sabotaged by the reappearance of the barman with a bottle of Wolf Blass Shiraz. 'That'll do fine,' Charlie said. 'Charge it to my room.'
He reached for a corkscrew and set about the bottle. 'So I wanted to see you with Maria and I wanted to see how you chased your crazy chimera,' Lisa said.
'By "crazy chimera", are you referring to yourself or to Jay?'
'Oh, Charlie,' Lisa said reproachfully. 'Jay, of course. I wanted to try to understand why it's got such a grip on you.'
'Because I think Corinna's right.' Charlie shook her head at the barman. 'Just pour, I'm sure it's fine.'
'You see, that's what I don't get,' Lisa said. 'Why are you investing so much of yourself in this? It's going nowhere, but it's obsessing you and it's not where you should be focusing your energy.'
'What should I be focusing on?' Charlie said, responding to the flirtatiousness in Lisa's voice.
'Something that has the potential to go somewhere, of course.' Lisa smiled. 'I could offer some suggestions?'
Charlie could feel a blush climbing her neck. 'How can you be so sure it's going nowhere?'
Lisa's smile grew mischievous. 'Because you'd have told me if you were getting somewhere. You couldn't help it. You want to impress me, so you'd have told me.' She picked up the first two glasses and started to turn away.
'Not necessarily,' Charlie said. 'I think you're forgetting how wedded I am to the notion of confidentiality. I'm a medical doctor, it's an article of faith for me. And I've worked with the police enough to understand the importance of holding information close.'
'I still think you'd tell me,' Lisa said as Charlie signed for the wine and picked up the other glasses.
'Maybe you don't know me quite as well as you think you do, then.' And with a smile, Charlie walked past Lisa and headed for Maria.
3
Plugging back into that shocking surge of emotion had unleashed a flood of words. Producing this memoir had hardly been a struggle for Jay, but now she was writing with the brakes off, she was unstoppable. Of course, most of it would end up on the cutting-room floor, but there was something liberating about letting it spill. Just so long as it never made it out into the wild. She'd have to be careful with this. She was saving it directly to a memory stick rather than the hard drive; the memory stick itself would have to go into the safe-deposit box that was so secret it didn't even feature in her will. When she died, the contents would stay in limbo for ever.
Jay stood up and put herself through the sequence of stretches her osteopath had devised for her. The legacy of that terrible day on Skye had to be combated both emotionally and physically. Hence the osteopathy and the hypnotherapy. Luckily she had enough on her hypnotherapist to protect anything unguarded that might come out of her mouth while she was in an altered state. There was nothing quite like Mutually Assured Destruction to keep the power in a relationship balanced, whether it was personal or professional.
She rubbed some almond oil into her hands, enjoying the aromas of the essential oils of rosemary and black pepper she'd infused it with. She thought back to that afternoon in Oxford and how the minutes had dragged. Recalled the irresistible urge to share this extraordinary experience in spite of herself. As if she'd had a premonition of what might happen. Of what had happened.
Ten minutes before nine, I slipped down the back stairs of the Sackville Building and into the night garden.There was no one in sight. The conference attendees were drinking in the Lady Hortensia Sinclair Room or sitting out on the front lawn. The looming bulk of Magnusson Hall cut the wedding off from view. I moved into the shadows and flitted down the
narrow avenue of plane trees that led to the meadow. Just before I emerged, I stopped and checked it out. There were a few dozen cars parked on the far side of the grass but they all seemed to be empty.
I stepped clear of the shadows and walked down the river bank to the dilapidated remains of the boathouse where Jess Edwards had met her end. More memories from the distant past surfaced, every bit as complicated as my memories of the Newsam family. After Jess's death, the college decided to set up a fund for a new, larger boathouse. Now, the Edwards boathouse graces the main stretch of the Isis alongside the older, richer colleges. Left empty, the old boathouse has mouldered to the point where it's caving in on itself like a decayed tooth. That night, I could see that the roof beam sagged hopelessly, the windows were long broken and the side walls bowed like the hull of a galleon. The collapsing structure hunched behind a paling fence that would have taken a determined squatter all of five minutes to penetrate.
I skirted the boathouse and found a small clearing a few yards wide between the fence and the spiked berberis hedge that marked the end of St Scholastika's domain. I'd brought a light wrap with me in the forlorn hope that the night might turn chilly, and I spread it over the ground. Not because it was damp, but because a bride shouldn't have grass stains on her dress. I leaned against a tree and waited, wondering if she would have changed her mind. Somewhere down the river, ducks splashed and cackled. I heard the heavy beat of a heron's wings, then the last wittering cries of the birds.
I didn't hear Magda approach, but she was right on time. In the beginnings of twilight, everything about her was heightened, as if someone had adjusted the contrast control of a TV. She'd changed into her going-away outfit, a simple dress of midnight blue silk with a full skirt. She'd taken off her hat and unpinned her hair, and it cascaded over her shoulders in gleaming waves the colour of pound coins whose initial brassiness has been blunted in the hand. The fading of bright sunshine brightened the blue light of her eyes and deepened the matt gold of her skin. Magda took a couple of steps towards me and smiled. 'You came,' she said quietly.
