Frozen in Crime

Chapter 9 In search of the golden peacock

It was a case of one step forward, two steps back. Or one car's length forward and so on. Charlie Smith was getting a sore neck from holding his head at an unusual angle to peer through the windscreen and at least to get a rough idea of where they were going. He made it up the hill from Pitkirtly to the main road more by luck than judgement, with Keith Burnett not saying very much in the front passenger seat except to ask in a near-whisper as they approached the roundabout, 'Would you like me to drive now, sir?'

'No, it's fine,' said Charlie, narrowing his eyes in the hope it would help him to see more clearly through the blizzard. 'Now then - do we want to go left or right here - what do you think?'

'I thought you knew the way,' said Keith accusingly. 'Sir.'

'Didn't you bring a map?'

'There's usually one in the glove compartment, sir.'

'Well, get it out then, as quick as you like, and tell me whether to go right or left.'

Charlie circled the roundabout while Keith struggled with the map.

'It depends,' said the constable annoyingly, after a few minutes during which the chief inspector realised he no longer knew which direction they had come from in the first place.

'Depends on what?'

'Do we want to be heading towards Rosyth or Kincardine?'

'Neither of those, you idiot. We're looking for a minor road that leads off this one, uphill, possibly ending up at Blairhall or somewhere. For God's sake, it isn't rocket science!'

The radio crackled. Charlie sighed, pulled off the roundabout in a random direction, and brought the Land Rover to a slightly skewed standstill on what had been the grass verge before it was covered by a foot of snow.

'Chief Inspector Smith?' said a familiar and unwelcome voice.

'Yes, that's me,' said Charlie.

'What the hell are you doing, Charlie? Sergeant McDonald tells me you've gone out into the wilds. On a wild-goose chase, too. What were you thinking?'

'Sir - I'm looking for a missing person. And following up a lead on the jewel robbery.'

'Both at the same time?'

'Well - yes, I suppose so, sir.'

'Madness!' said Superintendent Williams. Charlie could almost see his pursed mouth and steely glare. He would be wearing full uniform, of course, even if he happened to be speaking from home or from the pub, and he might be sitting upright at a desk or table, his fingers drumming on it. 'Complete and utter madness! Who is this missing person?'

'It's Mr Douglas, sir. David Douglas. He went off in his pick-up truck -'

'Oh, wait a minute, that David Douglas.' There was a pause. 'Married to Jemima Stevenson - a friend of Amaryllis Peebles. Ah. I see.'

There was no knowing what the superintendent saw. Perhaps a lot more than was there to be seen. Charlie waited.

'Well, carry on, then,' added Superintendent Williams after a moment, in a calmer tone. 'Can't leave him out in this weather... Not at his age. What's this other case? The jewel robbery? What's that got to do with this - expedition?'

'A golden peacock,' said Charlie. 'Query Fabergé. Once belonged to the Murrays of Pitkirtlyhill.'

'Very good,' said the superintendent. 'Carry on. Look after yourselves.'

He disconnected. Charlie looked at Keith Burnett and they both laughed.

'Quest for the golden peacock,' said Keith Burnett. 'It sounds like a movie title.'

The boy was a bit of a dreamer, no doubt about that. Whirling snowflakes - golden peacock.

'Funny, isn't it?' said Charlie, starting the engine again. 'He thinks it's a wild-goose chase until he hears who we're looking for. I suppose he's tangled with either Jemima or Amaryllis once too often.'

'And,' he added, swinging the Land Rover away from the verge and attempting a U-turn which ended up with them on the wrong side of the road at an unusual angle, 'no, I don't think Tangling with Amaryllis would be a good name for a lap-dancing act... And don't ever tell her I said that either.'

By some miracle Keith got the map the right way up and they negotiated the roundabout in a more sensible way this time. Then they found the road they thought they were looking for on the right, although it was steeper than Charlie remembered from the time he had to drive over to Blairhall to return a lost pet snake when he had been a young constable - which now seemed as if it was a lifetime away.

The Land Rover made it up the first part of the hill, and then they saw the turning that Keith said was the way to Old Pitkirtlyhill House on the left. There were pine woods just after that, and Charlie was about to turn off when he noticed something further up the hill. He accelerated sharply just after braking, which made for a bumpy ride. The road was partially blocked by a Range Rover that seemed to have tried to turn over and was now propped up on something else that lay under a snowdrift. It was hard to turn over a Range Rover, Charlie reflected as he came to a slightly slippery stop as near to it as he could. He realised as they approached that the driver had run into the back of the submerged obstacle and tried to take evasive action, which must have caused the catastrophe.

'Wow, that's a bit of a mess,' said Keith Burnett, critically surveying the front windscreen of the Range Rover. Charlie opened the driver's door and looked inside. Well, at least there was nobody in there and he wouldn't have to call an ambulance - yet. There was a lot of snow in the front seats. He shone his torch in. No baggage or anything. But there was something... he reached across and picked up a card from the floor on the passenger side and looked at it. An identification card of the type that acted as an electronic key, admitting members of staff to hidden areas of a building where members of the public weren't allowed to go. It had the pretentious logo of West Fife Council, and the name under that was Christopher Wilson.

'Keith, can you call in the registration for this vehicle and see who it belongs to?' said Charlie. 'I don't think our Mr Wilson is a driver. And Amaryllis doesn't own a car at the moment as far as I know.'

'You don't think they've stolen it, do you sir?' said Keith Burnett, eyes wide.

Charlie sighed. 'No, I think we can safely say they haven't done that. There's almost always some perfectly legal - if not innocent - explanation for the things they get up to.. Wait a minute, let's have a look over here before you call in. There might be another car underneath.'

He had walked forward to investigate what was under the snowdrift, and as he wiped a layer of snow off it with his gloved hand he realised it was also a vehicle. A pick-up truck.

'Will I call this one in too?' said Keith Burnett eagerly.

'No, don't bother,' said Charlie. 'This vehicle has been the subject of more bizarre complaints than all the others in Pitkirtly put together - but there's never enough evidence to bring a case. I know it well. Everything from chasing a cyclist along the sea-front to looming over a Fiat Panda with intent to cause a panic attack. Take a closer look, Keith. You're bound to come across it sooner or later. This is David Douglas's pick-up truck. It's probably too much to hope that it won't be worth salvaging.'

He walked round to the front and added, 'I suppose we'd better make sure he isn't still inside.'