Frozen in Crime

Chapter 29 Rescuing the rescuer

Christopher suspected Chief Inspector Smith had sent him on a wild-goose chase to keep him out of the way in case anything went wrong. At least he hadn't suffered the ignominy of being packed off to the cattery with Dave, Jemima and the dog. He plodded through the snow, keeping the fence immediately to his left. After a while it curved round away from him, and he followed it doggedly.

He was depressed to see the sky darkening and the snow beginning again. What if Dave and Jemima got stuck at the cattery? Did Rosie have enough food for all of them, or would they have to ration it - or start to eat the animals? This idea amused him for about five seconds, and then he started to worry again. Why had Amaryllis been away so long? Perhaps Lord Murray had offered refreshments. He pictured the two of them sitting on hard but elegant chairs, one at each side of a small fire, a worn but expensive Persian rug between them, sipping Earl Grey tea from old-fashioned china cups. There might even be cucumber sandwiches. He knew this was a trick by his mind to divert him from more sinister thoughts. Amaryllis must have had her suspicions that everything wasn't above board at Old Pitkirtlyhill House, or she would never have agreed to come up here in the first place.

He couldn't quite work it out himself, unless she thought Mal hadn't been entirely honest with them when they had met him here. Few things would have pleased Christopher more than finding out that Mal was a crook, and yet contrarily, knowing this was just based on gut instinct and jealousy made him more reluctant to accept it without evidence. He would have thought her friend Jimbo was more likely to be in the frame for the murder of the homeless man, since they had witnessed Jimbo speaking to the man as he went up the hill at the end of Amaryllis's cul de sac. And yet Jimbo was a bona fide member of the armed forces with a cast-iron reason for being in the vicinity. Whereas they still weren't sure how Mal had come to be in the old house....

The fence changed from being a tall structure with spikes on the top which somehow made him think of dinosaurs into a low wooden one, apparently much less threatening. But he saw when he approached it that it had a wire running along the top with a little sign saying it was electrified. For one wild moment he entertained the idea of taking a run up and vaulting over it.

At least this made him smile again.

He trudged on, still following the line of the fence even when it led him through a bramble patch as it had done once or twice so far. The snow was coming down more solidly now, and he couldn't see more than a few metres ahead because it was blowing right across his path. Even if he had been able to see the house from this angle, which was doubtful in any case, it would have been rendered invisible by this whiteout. He hoped Dave and Jemima had got up the road to the cattery before it had developed fully.

It was at this point, isolated from the rest of humanity by the blizzard, unsure of where he was going and of whether he was due to walk into danger some time soon, that he reached into the pocket of his parka and took out his mobile phone, on this occasion fully charged up and, as he discovered when he switched it on, fully operational. He smiled again as he replaced it in his pocket. At least this time he hadn't left it on the kitchen table. He had a live link to the outside world after all.

Almost as if the phone had been a lucky talisman, almost immediately after this he came to a stile. In normal circumstances he would have hesitated even then: but if Amaryllis was in trouble, which he had a horrible feeling she was, he had to do something to help. He batted aside his reservations about whether he would be any use against ruthless men, possibly armed with guns, and his feeling that he might get in the way or even just commit some hideous social faux pas. None of these thoughts were at all relevant.

He heaved himself up on to the first step of the stile. A deer stood at the other side, watching with what he could only think of as derision. He clapped his hands in their heavy gloves.