“Yes, his room has been searched. Why do you ask?”
“The letters, are they handwritten, or printed from a copier?”
“They appear to be handwritten, do you think there may be a connection?’
“Do you have a sample of Simon’s writing? If not, I would think that a search of his room might turn one up.”
“Diane, what would I do without you?” he said as he stood up from the table, “I know what I will be doing the rest of the day.”
-----
The Inspector inquired at the front desk about the current whereabouts of Mr. Berry. The manager thought he was in his room. The Inspector went upstairs, accompanied by a young sergeant on the police force. The Inspector knocked on the door.
“Who is it? I’m busy,” said a voice on the other side of the door.
“Inspector McNair.”
The Inspector was certain he heard a few expletives as Simon opened the door, “With all due respect, you have already trashed my room once, what do you want now?”
The Inspector and the Sergeant entered the room. He did a quick look around the room and walked to the desk, “These journals, do they belong to you?” he said as he picked one up, “Is the writing in this journal your writing?”
“Yes, they are my journals, and that’s my handwriting. Why do you ask?”
“I need to look at them.” The Inspector flipped through the pages of the journal he held in his hand. He removed a piece of hate mail from his pocket and compared the writing. It was an exact match.
“Mr. Berry, can you tell me why your handwriting is on these letters addressed to Westhill Research Laboratory in Inverness?”
Simon Berry said nothing; he sighed and looked down at the ground.
“Sergeant Campbell, arrest this man on a charge of murder and communicating threats. Make arrangements to transport him to Inverness.”
Simon Berry was in shock and stared blankly at the Inspector and the Sergeant as his rights were read to him. He did not fight or resist arrest. The Sergeant handcuffed him and led him out of the room. The Inspector called his team to secure Simon Berry’s room and collected evidence.
Inspector McNair yawned as he waited for his team to arrive. He was exhausted and could not remember the last time he had slept for more than a few fitful hours. Now that it looked like he had this case wrapped up, he was looking forward to a long night’s sleep.
Chapter 10
Diane was enjoying the summer weather on the terrace in the company of her good friends, Malcolm and Juliana, at the historic Glen Gorm Hotel. It was the holiday she had dreamed of all winter long. After the murder was solved and the killer arrested, she was finally enjoying every second of it.
Diane never intended to spend her summer holiday engaged in amateur sleuthing. Trying to discover the identity of a killer was not on the original itinerary, but it would be a holiday that she was not likely to forget soon. She sipped her tea and felt the sun shine down on her face as Malcolm finished a comical story. It was about the exploits of a drunken guest from America who thought he was Henry the Eighth reincarnated.
“I tell you, Diane, I almost hated to call the police on the man, but he was getting a bit loud with the ‘off with her head’ remarks,” said Malcolm as he reached for a scone.
“Juliana, surely it could not have been as bad as that?” Diane asked.
Juliana answered, “I am afraid he is not exaggerating, that was the craziest story we had about this place up until this murder. I am glad that it is all over now.”
“I still cannot believe that Simon was hiding in Mr. Snelling’s room, waiting for the perfect moment to blow the whistle. What a frightful scene that must have been, with Mr. Snelling terrified of bats,” said Malcolm.
“Can you imagine how frightened he must have been? I’m glad Simon has been arrested.” Juliana shuddered, despite the warm weather, “Those last few minutes of his life must have been horrifying.”
Diane listened to Malcolm and Juliana discuss the outcome of the police investigation and was struck by a thought that was unsettling. How did Simon know that Mr. Snelling was scared of bats? How would he have known to use a whistle designed specifically for calling that one animal, the only one Mr. Snelling was irrationally afraid of? It did seem rather odd that a stranger would assume a veterinarian would be afraid of animals. The fact that he guessed the exact species was possibly a coincidence, but seemed highly unlikely.
After tea, Diane was unable to relax. She had a nasty suspicion that there was more to this case than she or the Inspector originally thought. She had a feeling that the case was not closed, but was still unsolved. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she powered it on and punched in the code. She scrolled down and found the Inspector’s number and texted him.
Call me when you can. Important.
Important? Are you okay?
Yes, case not closed.
The phone buzzed less than ten seconds later. She answered it and was greeted by an Inspector who did not seem happy that she was even suggesting that his case was not as closed as he had hoped. She apologized and requested photos from the wedding that the Munros had attended, all of the photos that could be found. The Inspector reluctantly agreed.
There was nothing left to do but wait patiently for the photographs from the wedding in Mallaig. Less than an hour before, she had been perfectly relaxed enjoying a summer’s afternoon in the company of friends. Now, she was back in work mode, thinking about any clue that she may have missed and wondering who might be responsible for the death of Mr. Snelling if it was not Simon.
After tea, she decided to take a walk around the grounds to clear her mind. The police believed that they had the suspect in custody and cleared the guests and staff to leave the premises. Diane wondered if a killer had already left the hotel thinking he had gotten away with murder, or if he was now able to relax and enjoy his holiday.
The walk along the paths that overlooked the ocean gave her an appetite. She returned to the hotel, showered and dressed for dinner. The cook made a delightful roast chicken for dinner, and Diane enjoyed a drink in the lounge with Malcolm and Juliana before retiring for the evening. Later in her room, she checked her phone for messages and saw that there was none. She turned off the light and closed her eyes.
The next morning, she was up early. She was deciding what to wear when her phone buzzed. She had a text message from Inspector McNair.
Will be by later today, will you be available?
Yes.
See you around 3:00
That was quick, she thought to herself as she chose khaki capris and a coral button-down top. The coral was a bright color that complimented her complexion. She dressed and went down to breakfast. There must be something that she could do to try to keep her mind occupied until the Inspector arrived. She settled on working on her novel as the perfect way to pass the time.
Inspector McNair was punctual. He arrived just as Diane was walking downstairs in the lobby. Juliana was working at the front desk since it was the manager’s day off. She looked at Diane with a quizzical look on her face, but was quick to volunteer the hotel office for the use of Diane and the Inspector.
“Inspector, I was not expecting a response so quickly,” said Diane as they entered the office.
“Neither was I. I was able to contact the official wedding photographer who proved to be extremely helpful.”
“Were you able to find any more pictures?”
“Yes, I do have more on the way from several of the guests, but they may take more time. The pictures that the photographer sent seem to be an extensive catalog of the day’s activities.”
The Inspector handed the large manila envelope to Diane. She opened it and discovered a large stack of pictures, all the size of a standard piece of copy paper. The large size of the pictures made searching for clues much easier, and she was pleasantly surprised to see a time and date recorded on each photograph. She organized the pictures on the desk in chronologic
al order.
“Diane, I have to admit that I was reluctant to request the photos, but your insight into this case has proven to be invaluable. I apologize if I sounded rude on the phone; I was disappointed when you suggested that this case may not be closed.”
“Inspector, I assure you that I did not give it a moment’s thought. I have been too busy wondering about Simon and the bats. In hindsight, that does seem like a peculiar fact to know about someone, that they are scared of a certain thing or in this case, animal. He would have to have known Mr. Snelling personally, and aside from sending the lab where he worked several threatening letters, I do not see any other connection.”
“At least I have managed to solve the mystery of the poison pen letters. That has to be an accomplishment,” said the Inspector with a smile.
Diane finished laying out the pictures and began examining each one. The wedding pictures seemed to show a typical wedding; there was the radiant bride and the handsome groom dressed in their finery. There were the guests at the wedding posing with the happy couple. The pictures captured the wedding dinner and the reception, the bride’s first dance with her husband and the throwing of the bouquet.
Everything seemed to be in order. The photographer had not missed a moment, not a single detail. Diane was impressed with the angles and lighting the photographer used. He seemed very talented and well-suited for his job. She looked at the pictures for any clues. There was nothing odd or missing, except for one small detail that seemed to be out of place. The Munros were not in any of the pictures after the wedding.
Now that she realized they were missing, it was obvious. She examined every picture of the dinner, reception, and dancing after the ceremony. Peering into the background of the photographs, she looked for even the smallest hint of their presence, but there was nothing. These pictures, she decided, would be a good place to start, and other pictures of the wedding would probably confirm what she was beginning to realize - that they were not at the reception or the dinner.
If they were not in the pictures, then where could they be?
“Inspector, I wonder if you would consider checking these photographs for me. I want to be certain before I arrive at a conclusion.”
Inspector McNair stood beside her at the table and leaned closer to Diane to see the pictures that were on the desk.
“I do not see the Munros in any of the pictures after the wedding. I have looked closely, and I don’t even see them in the background,” she said.
“Let me have a look,” he replied as he scrutinized each picture.
He looked at some of the pictures more than once, and finally came to the last pictures, taken at the end of the wedding, a series of group photos, “Here they are; if you look at the front row of these pictures, you will see the Munros standing side by side.”
Diane looked at the last photos and saw the Munros smiling at the camera, “Inspector, there is photographic evidence and witness statements placing the Munros at the wedding, and there is photographic evidence that they were present at the end of the evening. My question is where are they between this photograph here, at the wedding, and this group photograph at the end of the night?”
“It does seem strange that they are missing from each picture, but it does not prove anything. Maybe the photographer missed them.”
“Inspector, do you honestly believe that they were somehow missing from every picture, even the background?”
“No, I don’t believe that, I am only thinking about proof. Where is the proof of your theory?”
Diane thought about what the Inspector said. She had a hunch that she was on to something, that the Munros were missing from the pictures because they were not at the reception, but where was her proof? Under the steady gaze of the Inspector, she examined every picture on the desk again, starting with the first picture from the wedding.
She knew she was right, but she could not prove it. Diane was beginning to feel frustrated until she came to the last photos of the evening. Looking at the Munros carefully, she searched for even the tiniest clue that would indicate where they had been for a few hours.
She looked at Katie’s hair, and it looked a little less neat than it did earlier, but that could easily be explained. She examined the image of Thomas and spotted a minute detail. He was wearing a kilt made of a distinct tartan. There appeared to be a small tear in the kilt visible in the oversized pictures. It was a small detail, but it was the proof that she needed.
“Inspector, look at the kilt that Thomas is wearing in the earlier pictures from the wedding and then in these at the end of the evening, do you notice anything?”
The Inspector examined the pictures and answered, “There is a rip present in the later pictures that could have happened anywhere.”
“Yes, it could have happened anywhere, but it didn’t happen just anywhere, it happened right here at the Glen Gorm Hotel. As a matter of fact, it happened upstairs in the attic.”
“That is a pretty wild assumption,” he said in a good-natured way.
“Not at wild as you might imagine, Inspector.”
“Why do you say that?”
“See that tartan he is wearing and that place in the fabric where it has been torn? I happen to be in possession of that exact scrap of tartan, and I found it on a nail in the attic!”
“You do have a good point, but there are a few details that I am missing.”
“I am sure those details will not be missing for long. I believe you have the wrong suspect in Inverness Inspector, and the real ones are relaxing at this hotel this very minute.”
Inspector McNair looked at the pictures once more before he gathered them into a neat stack and slid them into the manila envelope. He thanked Diane for her brilliant detective work and then called for an officer to be dispatched to the hotel. It would not take long for the officer to arrive.
At the front desk, he asked Juliana about the whereabouts of the Munros. Juliana answered that she could not be certain, but she thought they were in the lounge. A few minutes later an officer arrived, Inspector McNair asked him to wait in the lobby. He then went to the lounge to have a talk with the Munros.
Katie and Thomas were having drinks at a table in the lounge. They did not notice that he was standing in the lounge at first. They were laughing and acting like any other happily married couple on holiday. Thomas saw him first, and his mood changed instantly from jovial to surprised. Katie reacted to Thomas’s change in mood and turned to face Inspector McNair with a startled look on her face. They were both able to regain their composure by the time he joined them at their table,
“Mr. and Mrs. Munro, I was wondering if I might have a minute? I would like to have a word,” he asked.
Mr. Munro appeared to have gone from surprised to see the Inspector to angry, “We do not mind cooperating with you, but quite frankly, this is becoming ridiculous. I have been plagued with police interrogations since I came down here to assist with your enquiries. Then I am told I cannot leave and am trapped here, then the murderer is caught, and now here you are back again. What do you want now?”
Katie winced when her husband spoke to the Inspector as though he was subordinate. The Inspector noted her reaction to her husband’s temper tantrum and decided that she must be accustomed to defending his infantile behavior. The Inspector did not appear to notice her husband’s rant and continued to speak to him.
“Would you like to stay in the lounge or go somewhere that we may speak in private?” asked the Inspector.
“Here is fine, just don’t take long. We were having a good time, until a little while ago,” Thomas Munro said with a scowl.
“I will make this simple for both of you, where were you after the wedding in Mallaig?’
“Inspector, we have gone over this, you have our statements, we were at the reception.”
“Mr. Munro, we both know you are lying.”
Thomas fumed and turned red in rage. Katie spoke calmly, “Inspector, we attended a wedding in Malla
ig, we have proof that we were there.”
“Yes and no, Mrs. Munro, I have evidence proving that you were at the wedding and later that evening that you were in the last pictures of the event, but I have seen no evidence whatsoever that suggests that you were anywhere near Mallaig in the hours following the wedding.”
Katie looked down at the table, and Thomas appeared as though he could stand up at any moment and hit Inspector McNair, before he answered in a voice that ran cold as ice, “Inspector, that is no concern of ours that you do not have pictures at a wedding.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Munro, you may believe that I not only have that as evidence, but I have physical evidence as well.”
“That is impossible Inspector, we could never have caught a ferry from Mallaig, come all the way back here and then be back that evening to be in the last pictures. That would be impossible with the ferry schedule.”
“Not if you had an alternative means of transportation.”
“That still does not prove anything, Inspector. Now if you do not mind, are we finished?”
“Yes, Mr. Munro, we are. I can place you at this hotel with sufficient evidence that I am sure you will be convicted of murder in record time.”
“That is ridiculous!” thundered Mr. Munro.
“No, it’s not. Your kilt that you wore to the wedding is badly in need of repair. If you are curious about the location of the scrap that got torn off that day you were supposed to be at the wedding, you may be interested to know that I have it.”
“What do you mean by this?”
“I mean, Mr. Munro, that I know enough of the details and have the evidence that I need to sink you, but I am giving you an opportunity to cooperate. That will look better for you in a court of law, because make no mistake, I will arrest you both for this crime.”
Katie and Thomas looked at each other and the anger that Thomas felt seemed to melt into resignation. His shoulders drooped as he began to tell the Inspector his confession. Katie had chimed in a few of the details before she was weeping uncontrollably in the lounge in front of the other guests. Inspector McNair called the police officer positioned in the lobby to join him in the lounge. A few minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Munro were sitting in the back of a patrol car with their hands cuffed on the way to Inverness to be charged with murder.
Murder in the Highands Page 6