Ice Cold Blood

by David W. Millar

  Your current lover

  Ellie

  The phone rang as he finished reading the letter. He answered it with a degree of nervousness glancing at the display showing the caller’s number. It was only his mother, reminding him about the arrangements for his father’s 80th birthday meal in a couple of months. They spoke for a few minutes while he assured her that he had not forgotten and no, he had not said a word to anyone to spoil the surprise. It made him smile knowing his father was too sharp not to know what was going on.

  Even that brief contact with his mother unsettled him for he knew she had never approved of his relationship with Ellie right from the start.

  They had differences of opinion over a range of topics, ranging from medicine and diet, to the use of animals in drug testing. His mother was always tactful, acknowledging the points Ellie had raised before skilfully changing the subject. There was never direct criticism directed at him, no mentions of Ellie’s strange behaviour, only the occasional raised eyebrow or a knowing glance at his father.

  Perhaps her training and experience as a doctor allowed her to see the real Ellie, the Ellie that he could not because he was so in love with her. His mother never deserved the criticism Ellie heaped on her whenever they had visited.

  He started further ruminations on the letter looking for clues that might have served as a portent of what was to come. While parts of the letter had seemed so outrageous then, especially ranking him as a lover, now he saw it as just the honesty of a woman who wore her heart on her sleeve. And what you saw was always what you got with Ellie.

  ---oOo---

  ‘Why does he go and do that?’ McIntyre asked with some exasperation. ‘Oh, and she had sex with someone just before she died! Is it his attempt at being smart or something?’

  They were driving to Glasgow to interview a hill walker who claimed he’d seen a man and a woman trudging through the snow near Coire Leis two days before the body was found. The walker was struck with the fact that the pair were walking up the mountain when it was already dark. He’d already given a statement in Glasgow but had agreed to meet with Tosh.

  ‘Pathologists are a strange breed. They cut up dead people and inhabit a world that’s isolated from the living. I’ve worked with him in Glasgow and got used to his ways.’

  ‘The fact she had sex just before she died is hugely significant. We can get a DNA analysis and then use that when we get a suspect.’

  ‘He knows we don’t have a suspect yet so there’s no hurry. Let’s hope this hill walker saw something that might help. We need an identification first.’

  ‘That’s three days now and still no one has come forward to say their partner, friend, wife or daughter’s been missing.’ McIntyre sighed as they pulled into the police station. ‘Surely her employer or friends and colleagues would have missed her by now.’

  Tosh nodded at his colleague. ‘So what does that suggest to you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘The fact that no one has come forward means something. It might mean she was on holiday from her work or off sick? It might mean she lived on her own. Maybe she told her friends she was away somewhere. It might mean she lived abroad and was on a climbing holiday in Scotland.’

  ‘God, you’re right. That never crossed my mind.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why I’m a DCI and you’re still a detective sergeant,’ Tosh laughed. ‘Let’s go see if Mr Steven Ainslie from Greenock can give us any clues.’

  ‘All right then Mr Sherlock fucking Holmes,’ McIntyre muttered under his breath as they entered the police station.

  He could add little to his original statement. While the height description he gave fitted with that of the deceased woman, the fact it was getting dark and they had quickly passed each other on the slope meant the sighting was very brief. He had assured the two detectives both were wearing typical climbing gear, carrying large packs on their back and both were using walking poles.

  ‘You’re sure it was a man and a woman?’ McIntyre asked. ‘Isn’t it difficult to tell when they’ve got so much gear on.’

  ‘I’m 99% certain. I’ve climbed in groups for years and you can usually tell by their gait.’

  ‘You said the man looked a couple of inches taller?’ McIntyre was reading from a sheet of paper. ‘I know it was getting dark, but you didn’t notice anything else, a beard, hair colour or even body piercings?’

  Ainslie shook his head. ‘It was snowing and they both had their hoods up and goggles on so I couldn’t see their faces. They had head torches guiding their route which meant the light was directed on the ground’.

  ‘Well, despite the fact you passed them briefly you seem to have remembered a lot of details?’ Tosh raised his eyebrows.

  ‘I’ve been a climber for years and when you pass other climbers you make subconscious assessments about their gear and even their ability. I know they had on expensive gear even if I can’t tell you specific makes.’

  ‘What about their back packs?’ McIntyre asked. ‘Did they look heavy? Can you remember anything else they might have been carrying?’

  ‘They were big bag packs, both were covered over with weatherproof plastic, but…’

  ‘But what?’ Tosh prompted.

  ‘I can’t be certain, but now I think about it, the woman might have been carrying a snow shovel on her back. There was something sticking out the bottom of the cover.’

  Tosh and McIntyre exchanged glances.

  ‘Is that significant?’

  McIntyre opened his laptop, punching a few buttons before turning the screen towards Ainslie.

  ‘Yeah, that would fit with your photo. Did you find anything else I could look at?’

  ‘What about this?’

  ‘It’s a spring. Not something I think would be part of any climber’s gear; not sure about skiers though - maybe come off a binding or something like that?’

  ‘Possibly,’ Tosh nodded before standing up to offer his hand to Ainslie. ‘Thanks for coming in to see us, if you remember anything else just give the station in Fort William a ring and we’ll get back to you.’

  After shaking hands with both police officers, Ainslie stood up, turned to leave but then hesitated.

  ‘I don’t know if it’s significant but since you’re so interested in the gear they were carrying, I’m pretty sure I saw the wooden handle of an ice axe that the woman was carrying.’

  Chapter 7

  Joe Flint knew it was her when he saw the appeal on television. Just back from a skiing trip in France he realised he had missed two other broadcasts asking for anyone with information to come forward.

  He decided to drive through the night from his house in Wales to Fort William to present himself at the police station the following morning.

  ‘I think there’s a chance the body you’ve found might be a woman called Ellie Saunders,’ Flint said when the two detectives were seated in front of him. ‘Although I hope it’s not.’

  Tosh nodded but said nothing, a silent pressure that might solicit useful information. It was quite possible that Flint might have been involved in the crime.

  ‘How long have you known Ellie Saunders?’ McIntyre asked.

  ‘Just over 27 years.’

  ‘A romantic liaison?’ Tosh raised his eyebrows in question.

  ‘On and off for a few years. We climbed a lot together.’

  ‘So what makes you think the woman who died is Ellie Saunders? And when was the last time you saw her?’

  He had expected these questions but was still unsure as how to respond.

  ‘I think I last saw her about a month ago.’

  ‘And your answer to my first question?’

  ‘She phoned me out of the blue over two weeks ago, said she was going climbing in Scotland, probably Ben Nevis. She asked me how I was and if my business was still doing well. W
e exchanged a few pleasantries, she asked about my climbs in Switzerland and if I was going back to attempt K2.’

  ‘Did she mention if she was going with someone else onto Ben Nevis?’

  Flint shook his head.

  ‘You waited a while before contacting us,’ McIntyre raised his eyebrows.

  ‘I was in France skiing.’

  ‘You don’t check the news when abroad then?’

  ‘No, I make a point of not looking at any social media when I’m working,’ Flint replied emphatically. ‘Anyone climbing in my group is asked not to carry their mobile with them. We are often camped out and it pisses me and others off if people are taking or making calls. Look, the description given in the news fits with that of Ellie and she told me she was going to be climbing in that area. I called her mobile and got no reply. I then phoned her work in Edinburgh, but they said she was on holiday for two weeks. That gave me enough concern to drive here immediately.’

  ‘Yes, thanks for coming all that way,’ Tosh acknowledged. ‘You must have felt quite upset.’

  ‘The news bulletin said something about head injuries. Did she fall?’

  ‘Do you have an address or contact details for her family?’

  ‘Her parents live in Gloucester, but she has a brother, Eamon, who I think still lives and works in Edinburgh. Ellie worked as a copy artist with Images Direct. It’s her own company that she started with a friend years ago. I think it’s in Broughton Street. They will have more details.’

  Tosh made more notes in the folder before rising to his feet. ‘Excuse me for a moment and I’ll see if we can find if her brother’s address.’

  ‘What was she like?’ McIntyre asked when Tosh had left. ‘You said she was a good climber, anything else.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Her personality, what kind of friends did she have - that sort of thing.’

  Flint closed his eyes. It was a tricky question. She was dead and not an accident judging by the questions. From a police point of view they would be looking for a suspect who might well be one of her friends.

  ‘An extrovert. Full of energy, fearless on the mountains, but always careful with excellent climbing technique. She had friends although I never saw many of them. There was a guy from Scotland, Euan Hunter, I met years ago on a climbing expedition in the Alps.’

  McIntyre scribbled some notes as Flint continued.

  ‘Our main contact was climbing together on the expeditions run by my company. My clients really liked Ellie, her enthusiasm and love of the outdoors was infectious. Even in a whiteout on the mountain, when everyone was freezing cold, she could raise your spirits. She was well prepared for every climb, carried spare hats and gloves that more than a few of my clients were grateful for when they lost theirs. I know she had her dark times when she shut herself away from everything. Sometimes there would be no contact for months then suddenly she was back as bubbly and upbeat as ever. I knew she got depressed and had seen a counsellor. She stayed with me a few times at my place in Wales. While she could be outrageous and controversial in company she was guarded about her feelings.’

  ‘So you had a physical relationship with her?’

  Flint looked up sharply, trying to gauge the meaning behind the question. He knew they didn’t consider him a suspect, but the question was unexpected and awkward to frame an answer.

  It was certainly physical, but always on her terms. There would be nights together, socialising with friends followed by frantic sex at his house, then mornings walking or climbing. Then she would just disappear back to Scotland. There were no explanations given and he had learned not to ask for any.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied tersely.

  At that point Tosh returned with a smile on his face.

  ‘We’ve got an address and a contact number for an Eamon Saunders in Edinburgh. Thanks for that.’

  ‘Can I go now? Or do you need me for anything else?’

  ‘We have to check out your whereabouts over the past week or so but since you’ve been in France that should be easy. Have you seen a dead body before, maybe an accident on the mountains?’

  ‘Yes, there’s been a few.’

  ---oOo---

  The fourth letter was written in green ink. The colour had faded over the years, though still unmistakably green. The words reflected one of the happiest periods of her life and his.

  They had walked up Ladhar Bheinn together, the most westerly Munro on the mainland. He had been impressed by her ability to scale the various rock formations and scramble nimbly over scree. It was early spring but there was snow near the summit where they had roped together. Ellie had led the first part of the climb which he found quite demanding. They eventually switched positions and he led them to the summit. At the top he had produced a bottle of seriously expensive single malt whisky and two plastic tumblers to toast their first climb together. The wind was gale force and his hat had blown off, disappearing down the mountain much to Ellie’s amusement. He was grateful she had a spare in her rucksack, something he never thought of bringing.

  It was getting dark when they finally arrived at the car, the last mile negotiated with a head torch. He had a large Ford Estate then, battered and bruised by bikes, ice axes and the chainsaws he used to cut wood for his parent’s stove. As they dumped their gear in the back, she looked at him mischievously.

  ‘Have you ever had sex with a woman in this car?’

  After he had shaken his head, she started taking her boots and jeans off despite the freezing temperatures.

  ‘Go get some heat going from the engine and we can fuck in the back.’

  He protested but started the car anyway. For him it was too cold, someone might appear and there was not enough room. But she ignored his pleas and continued undressing.

  ‘We’re booked into a B&B. There’ll be a warm bed there that won’t freeze my rocks off.’

  ‘That’s where we make love, tucked up warm in bed. But here in a car, this car - this is where we have an adventure, this is where we fuck!’

  My Dearest Euan

  I must thank you for another fantastic weekend. They say you never remember your days at work, but the memory of a wonderful climb stays with you forever. That ascent on Saturday had everything you could hope for in Scotland with snow, gale force winds and even some sun! It was glorious. I have bought you a new hat to replace the one you lost in the wind and to commemorate our first climb together!

  You climb well for a man! (Ha! Ha!) But maybe it’s more to the point that you climb like an engineer. Someone who is focussed, methodical and measured. I felt safe in your hands when you led the climbs knowing you would hold me if I fell. I could see you checking out the weather, preparing for a sudden whiteout that might give us a spot of bother. Our big hug together at the summit was wonderful.

  I see the mountains as an adventure, something that allows us to recapture our earlier roots as hunter-gatherers. We can walk free in the hills, use our ingenuity as toolmakers who have fashioned ropes and axes to go anywhere on a mountain. It might not be in the pursuit of food or water, but similar needs are satisfied. There is an element of danger on which I thrive.

  I am careful, you surely saw that. However life high up on the mountains is unpredictable and risk goes with the territory. It is good to be free, but it means embracing the cold, the wind and the snow. It means accepting the discomfort when your hands and feet are frozen and the possibility of an overnighter in a draughty tent. It means then you don’t take the comforts of modern life for granted!

  You also performed well in the car! I sprung that one on you - just felt so randy when we got down and couldn’t wait till we were in the B&B. You rose (Ha! Ha!) eventually to the situation and it was very powerful, another memory that will never fade. Life is a journey and having you by my side means more scope for big adventures on the hills and mountains and in the bed!<
br />
  Your loving climbing buddy,

  Ellie

  Euan glanced up at the clock. It was after one now and he suddenly felt hungry. He decided on bacon rolls.

  His mobile beeped occasionally as he fried the bacon, texts from friends or work colleagues that he would answer later. He remembered there were photos of their climb together up Ladhar Bheinn. They would be in one of the photo albums stored in the loft. He decided to dig the relevant one out before settling down with something to eat.

  She looked amazing. The one of her on the summit had been taken when the sun made a brief appearance and her hair shone in its reflection. It looked the perfect photo, capturing the essence of the mountain with the snow on the summit. Ellie had the perfect physique for climbing. She was slim, strong and controlled. But above all she was determined with amazing stamina and an ability to ‘make pain my friend’ as she put it. She was fearless but never reckless, always saying there were too many mountains still to climb to be falling off the one she was on right now.

  There was a photo of the two of them together, taken using the time delay on his then new camera. It had seemed state-of-the-art then before advances in technology had rendered it obsolete. His photos were all digital now. He much preferred the photo album.

  They were holding each other, big grins on their faces. It was such a happy time and he felt close to tears, the sense of loss hit him like a dislodged boulder from the mountain. He would never see her again and surely bore some responsibility for what had happened to their relationship and what took place on the mountain.

  Sitting with his thoughts for over five minutes he realised his coffee was now cold and required a reheat in the microwave. The action energised his system temporarily, at least, dispelling the previous melancholy.

  Euan smiled again at the memory of their clumsy attempts to have sex in the back of the car. He had been worried someone would see them and insisted they kept the interior light off. Heads banged off the roof, they rolled onto sharp objects that dug into their backs laughing and cursing while groping each other with icy hands.