Frozen in Crime

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.'