Murder in the Highands, Page 2

  “I am so glad you are here,” said Juliana as she hugged Diane, then sat down on the corner of her desk.

  “What has happened? Nothing serious, I trust?”

  “I’m afraid so. There has been a murder.”

  “A murder?”

  “Yes, it would seem so. One of the guests is dead, and the detective from Inverness believes it to be a murder. I must admit I am beside myself. I don’t know what to do.”

  “There, there, everything will be fine. Where is Malcolm?”

  “He is upstairs assisting the Detective; I am supposed to e-mail the details of the guest list to him.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “It’s Mr. Snelling –Mr. James Snelling. He had stayed at the hotel before.” Juliana began to cry.

  Diane could tell that the stress and strain of this unfortunate incident had affected Julian’s normally calm composure. She found a tissue box on a shelf and handed Juliana a tissue.

  “Thank you,” said Juliana as she dabbed at her eyes with the tissue, “As I said, it's Mr. Snelling. He died sometime last night. Malcolm had treated him the last time he stayed with us. I am afraid that his heart was not good.”

  “Did he have a heart attack? A heart attack is not usually murder.”

  “He did have a heart attack, but there seems to be more to it,” said Juliana as she wiped her eyes. “His room, it was vandalized; it looked like a tiger or a great big cat shredded the walls and destroyed the paintings. What is even worse is that no one heard a thing. A man dies, and his room is destroyed, and yet no one heard a single noise, how is that possible?”

  “I don’t have an answer for you about that, at least not yet.”

  “I don’t know what to think. Do we have a murderer staying at the hotel, a wild animal on the loose? Are we all in danger?” asked Juliana, who was now crying and on the verge of becoming hysterical.

  “Juliana, I know this is overwhelming, but try to pull yourself together. We need to decide what the safest course of action is. We have to be strong.”

  “Diane, you are right. We all have to be strong.”

  Diane and Juliana left the oasis of tranquility that was the study. Julia’s eyes were still a bit puffy, but she looked as though she might weather the storm after all. Diane concluded that all Julia needed was a good cry and a sympathetic ear to calm her nerves.

  After all, it wasn’t an everyday occurrence that one’s hotel was crawling with police officers, stressed and fearful guests and possibly a murderer. It was quite easy to understand how one could be stressed and tearful at a time like this. Diane was suitably impressed that her friend was handling the immense pressure as well as she was. It said quite a lot about her character and her mettle.

  Upon returning to the great hall, Juliana was immediately surrounded by nervous guests. Diane wondered if leaving the study was such a good idea after all. At least in the study they had the option of locking the door, but regrettably, they could not hide there forever. Juliana looked completely overwhelmed. She was peppered with questions.

  “What is the meaning of this? Are we not allowed to leave?”

  “I need to get to my room, why am I not allowed to go up?”

  “I expect a refund, I did not pay to get involved in anything so sordid, when can I expect my money back?”

  Diane stepped in immediately and nodded to Juliana. Juliana excused herself and made a dash for it. The police officer who stood sentry at the staircase permitted her to pass. Juliana turned to look at Diane and mouthed, “Thank you,” as she rushed up the stairs.

  Diane cleared her throat. “Alright everyone, may I have your attention? This situation is unexpected and regrettably still an ongoing investigation. I assure you that as soon as the police are finished with the preliminaries you will have access to your rooms. As to when you may leave the premises, that is not up to the proprietors but to the police. I am certain the MacKays will want to handle any refunds or discounts personally as soon they can. I can promise you that they will take into account any and all inconvenience or discomfort that you may have suffered due to this unfortunate event.”

  “Since every police officer on the island is here, does that mean we have a murderer on the loose?” asked a woman who looked around at the other guests nervously.

  The other guests nodded their heads and joined in.

  “Yes, that’s a damn good question, is there a killer on the prowl?”

  “Are we safe?”

  Diane detected a faint hint of panic beginning to grip the guests. “Everyone pull yourselves together. I am quite certain that you are all safe. The hotel is currently hosting all of the island’s police force, and I would wager one or two from Inverness, so at the moment you are quite possibly the safest group of hotel guests on the planet.”

  “But who is the murderer? Is it one of us?”

  Diane answered, “Let the police complete their investigation. As soon as they are finished and have a clearer picture of what may have happened, then I am sure you will find all of your fears unfounded. Now please take a seat in the great hall, the library or the dining room. I will have tea brought out, and there is a drinks cabinet in the library if you find that you need more substantial means to endure the wait.”

  Diane went to the kitchen and was pleased to find that it had not been quarantined as part of the police investigation. She requested that Mrs. Allan, the hotel cook, see about a pot of tea and sandwiches for the guests. She found in her experience that people endured anything better with a good strong cup of tea. Naturally, the sandwiches never hurt. It always amazed her how much like children adults could be sometimes. A bit of food to keep them occupied and they calmed right down.

  Diane was feeling peckish herself. She realized that all she had eaten this morning was a box of chocolate biscuits and that hardly counted.

  “I’m famished; I could do with a bite,” she said as the cook began working on the sandwiches for the guests.

  “What will you have? I’ve got chicken, roast beef or cucumber.”

  “The chicken sounds quite good,” Diane answered.

  Mrs. Allan handed her a cold chicken sandwich and a cup of tea. “You can stay right here and eat if you like. I wouldn’t want to be out there, there is a killer staying in this hotel, can you believe it? Tea with a murderer is not my idea of good company. I would think stress like that would be bad for the digestion.”

  “Thank you, I think I will do just that.” Diane sat down at a large round table and enjoyed her first real meal of the day.

  “You write all those books about murders. What do you think? I think any one of the guests could be the perpetrator. I hope the MacKays learn their lesson and are much more particular about their guests in the future.”

  “I’m still waiting to see what the police have to say. It may be accidental.”

  “Not likely. Not with as many police as they have here. A detective came all the way from Inverness! Can you imagine?’

  “Yes, I can.” Diane finished the sandwich and tea. She was always able to think better when she had something in her stomach.

  “You are welcome to stay in here with me where it's safe. I’ve got knives,” said the cook cheerfully as she held up a large butcher’s knife and smiled.

  Diane nodded her head and realized that she preferred her chances in the great hall with the anxious guests and possibly a killer.

  Diane returned to the great hall and walked up to the police officer guarding the staircase.

  “Any chance I may be able to go up?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Right,” said Diane as she turned and walked away.

  She sat on the couch and took her phone out of her pocket. She pressed the power button and punched in her passcode, then texted Juliana.

  Hope you don’t mind, tea for the guests and refunds.

  Juliana responded: Tea ok. Refunds?

  Jk re refunds. Await rescue

  Lol on my way<
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  Diane turned her phone off and put it back in her pocket. She looked at the stairs and was pleased to see Juliana speaking with the police officer who was in charge of all entry to the second floor. After a few minutes’ conversation, Juliana beckoned her to join her.

  “May I go up?” asked Diane.

  “Yes Inspector, I meant no disrespect.”

  “Just doing your duty, keep up the good work.”

  When Diane and Juliana reached the second-floor landing, Diane stopped the younger woman and in a whisper asked, “Inspector?”

  “Yes, I told him that you are a retired Detective Inspector from Shropshire and that Inspector McNair requested your presence.”

  “Did he?”

  “Of course not, but I’m certain he would if he knew you.”

  “Juliana, you are full of surprises. Remind me not to ever underestimate you.”

  The ladies walked down the second-floor corridor. Diane was certain that when Inspector McNair was confronted with a civilian trespassing in his crime scene, he was very likely to react less than cordially. She hoped to remain in the hall and just observe the investigation for now, and felt certain that she would have the opportunity to investigate the room where the body was found soon enough.

  For now, she was just content to be out of the kitchen with the knife-wielding cook and away from the guests who were on the verge of anarchy. Besides, she reasoned observing a real police investigation was always a good source of material for her books. Juliana led Diane to the crime scene.

  “I will just wait out here, I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “I’m going to check in and see if the Inspector needs anything else.”

  “I will be right here.”

  Diane stood in the corridor and peered into Snelling’s room. It was difficult to see very much from that angle, but she could tell from what she could see of the room that Juliana had been right; the room seemed to be in a state of disarray.

  Juliana walked back out of Snelling’s room looking white as a ghost.

  “Juliana?”

  “That room looks like a scene from a horror movie and Mr. Snelling is still there.”

  “Maybe you should go have a lie down.”

  “The Inspector needs a few more minor details from our reservation system and personnel files; after that, I may do just that.”

  Juliana walked back down the hall, leaving Diane on her own.

  Diane stayed quiet and tried to blend into the scenery, as she knew that the gravity of the situation demanded it. Without her friends, the guests or the staff to offer her the faintest distraction, she was able to concentrate her thoughts on what little bit of information she knew.

  A guest, Mr. James Snelling, had died in his room sometime last night. He had stayed at the hotel on a prior occasion. Malcolm had treated him for a heart condition. The room Mr. Snelling had been occupying and the room where he died looked as though it had been destroyed by a wild animal like a big cat. The paintings and walls had evidence of scratch marks. The deceased did not seem to have died as the result of an outside source, but of fright. Despite the room being destroyed, no one heard a sound, and there were no witnesses.

  This was definitely a mystery. Diane played several scenarios in her mind and found that at this early stage in the investigation she had far more questions than she had definitive answers. At least, that was the case at the moment.

  As she stood in the corridor waiting for the police to finish, she thought about what would have prompted someone to go through so much trouble to scare Mr. Snelling to death. She also pondered about the wild animal theory. She was unable to recall a single incident of a big cat or wild animal taking the time to attack the room of a man with a heart condition at a hotel. It was unprecedented.

  “Have forensics get back to me with that report immediately. If they can’t find the answer, have them contact a zoologist.”

  Diane watched a handsome, older gentleman leave Snelling’s room. He was slightly younger with dark hair that was giving way to gray. He had piercing blue eyes and was easily six feet tall. She thought the Inspector was going to walk past her, but then he stopped in front of her. He looked at her as though he recognized her.

  “I know you from somewhere, now let me see if I can place where that somewhere is,” he said, his English spoken with a slight Inverness accent. He stared at her as though trying to decipher a difficult puzzle. Finally, he nodded his head and replied, “You’re that mystery writer, from that village that sounds like a dessert, let see me… Apple something, that’s right, Apple Mews.”

  “I am that mystery writer from Apple Mews; my name is Diane Dimbleby.”

  “I am Detective Inspector Robert McNair from Inverness.”

  “I do have a confession, Inspector, your officer at the staircase may be under the misguided impression that I am a retired Inspector.”

  “I’m sure there is a perfectly rational explanation for your criminal impersonation of a police officer,” he said.

  “A retired Inspector. I’m sure the penalty is not as strict.”

  “Alright Inspector, what brings you here? The thrill of murder? I have read some of your books, and they are quite good. You must have a dark side to write murder mysteries that are as convincing as you seem to do. I would say you have a real understanding of the criminal mind. What was your background, law enforcement?”

  “No, actually this is my holiday, or at least it was supposed to be. A bit of birdwatching, some hiking and hours of good conversation with my friends that own this hotel. My background is education; I am a retired school teacher. I have found that nothing is quite as devious as an eight-year-old child with an agenda.”

  “Forgive me, I didn’t it mean to be rude. The stress of this job can sometimes get to even the strongest of us,” he apologized.

  “Inspector, you are under a lot of stress, I understand. From what I can tell, this is not a cut and dried case, it’s complicated.”

  “Thank you, I am glad you are here. I normally don’t admit this to anyone, but I could use all the help I can get on this one. Would you terribly mind coming and having a look at the room? I must warn you though, Mr. Snelling, the occupant, is still in there.”

  “Inspector, I would be delighted to help out in any way that I can. You can count on my assistance.”

  “Thank you Inspector,” he said with a wink that she found charming.

  Inspector McNair returned to the room with Diane. Diane thought she had a good picture of what she would find once she entered the crime scene. She soon discovered that it was far worse than anything she could have imagined. Diane always prided herself on her ability to handle nearly any twisted machination the human mind could devise as a method of murder, but this scene was unlike anything she had ever witnessed.

  Mr. Snelling was still in the room, as Inspector McNair had warned. That was always a sobering sight, she thought to herself. She looked at Snelling for any signs of what may have caused his untimely demise. This was grim work; he seemed to have died of fright. His face was still contorted in fear. From what she could tell, he did not have a scratch, bruise, or abrasion anywhere on his body that she could see from observation.

  “Inspector, this may seem to be a premature question in light of the fact that the victim is still in here with us, but has your team managed to establish a cause of death?’

  “We still need to do the lab work and autopsy, but right now, judging from the appearance of the body, no marks, or scratches, and the facial expression, I am working on the assumption that he died of a heart attack. His medical records would suggest a prior heart condition.”

  After studying Snelling, she examined the room for any details or clues that might stand out. In this case, the entire room stood out as a clue. She tried hard to suppress her reaction, which was to ask for a strong drink and walk away. The room was in a shambles and she found herself trying to imagine what manner of animal or human had terrorized Mr. Snelling in
his final moments.

  There were scratches on the walls that seemed to have been made by a creature with long claws or a madman. The paintings were all destroyed and smashed. Lamps, vases, or any decorative ornaments lay in pieces. She shuddered involuntarily as she tried to imagine Mr. Snelling in the room with whatever or whoever had been capable of the ferocity of this attack.

  She noticed that the window to the room was covered in blood from the outside. She thought that was a curious detail.

  “The blood on the outside of this window, has your team been able to determine if it’s animal or human in origin?”

  “At this stage, we believe that it’s an animal, perhaps a bird.”

  “On the handle of the window or the glass, did you find any fingerprints?”

  “We examined the glass and the handle and only discovered the fingerprints of Mr. Snelling.”

  Diane noticed that the window was shut now. She looked at the blood and thought that perhaps there may be a different explanation than the bird theory, but she did not yet have enough information to pose a conflicting theory. Diane decided that she would keep her ideas about the window to herself for now.

  She retraced her steps now that the initial shock was wearing off. Entering a crime scene was often like jumping into a swimming pool; when you first get in the water is freezing, but after a while, you become acclimated to it. Now that she was becoming acclimated, she knew that she would be able to spot clues she may have missed in her preliminary search.

  The room that Snelling had booked was quite large. It had been beautifully decorated and would have been an ideal place for a relaxing, romantic holiday. The paintings that were destroyed had been chosen with care, and the décor was evocative of an earlier, gracious time. She walked over to a painting that lay smashed on the floor. She looked at the picture and was surprised to see minuscule drops of blood on it.

  “Inspector, what did you make of this?”

  “Make of what? I don’t believe my team found anything significant in that part of the room.”

  “These drops of blood; do you suppose they are from the same animal that rammed into the window?”