A nod. ‘Oh definitely. Generosity of spirit.’
‘Always thinking of others, wasn’t he?’
‘Always. Always thinking of others.’
She clenched her hands to her bosom. ‘It’s just so terrible to think he’s gone...’
‘Terrible, just terrible. He was the salt of the earth.’
Now, ‘CRAGGANMORE’ was a bit grander than the bedrooms they’d been in so far. A junior suite, which meant you didn’t get a sitting room, but you did get a putting machine and a bedroom big enough for a couch. The sideboard behind itplayed host to an ice bucket, full of fresh ice cubes, and a bottle of something fizzy and expensive. Which was odd, given that everyoneincludingthe hotel staff were meant to be on lockdown.
The room’s occupant had the kind of head you could probably use to bang nails in, a short rectangular body and strangely tiny feet. No business casual for him, though, he was done up in an expensive-looking suit, with perfectly manicured nails, a porcelain-white smile featuring a gold tooth at the front, and a full-on Kremlin-issue accent. Smiling as he poured himself another glass of champagne. ‘Meester Bradbury-Scott, he was good man. Very trustworthy.’
Sergeant Moore wrote that down. ‘I hear you and he had a falling out over some investments in Edinburgh, Mr... Volkov?’
‘Please, you call me Maksim.’ He flashed that gold tooth again. ‘This was... misunderstanding. He come to me and he say, “Maksim Arturovich, we must to befriendsagain, no more fighting. Is bad for business, yes?” So, we drink vodka and, how you say, bury the axe?’
Roberta peered out the window. His view was better too – across the trees to what looked like a wee stone circle, lurking in the downpour. ‘Takes a lot for someonelike youto forgive someone like Bradbury-Scott. Treating you with disrespect?Conningyou?’ She turned back to the room. ‘Wouldn’t like that.’
‘Someone like me?’ A modest shrug. ‘I am simple flower merchant, I have no problem can not be made go away with good friendship.’ He gave her a wink, toasting her with his champagne flute. ‘And goodvodka!’ Knocking back the whole glass, then sighing and shaking his head. ‘It isgreatshame about Meester Bradbury-Scott, he was, how you say...?’
‘Salt of the earth?’
Maksim Arturovich Volkov’s gold-toothed smile returned. ‘Yes! This is itexactly. Salt of the earth.’
Of course it sodding was.
Sergeant Moore eased the door to ‘CRAGGANMORE’ closed, then stood there frowning at it while Roberta had a sly puff on her e-cigarette – filling the corridor with cherry-scented steam. Like a wee fruity dragon.
She had a bash at a smokeless smoke ring. It looked like a Moomin with piles. ‘“Flower merchant” my sharny arse. If he’s a flower merchant, I’m a sack of geraniums.’
‘You starting to see a pattern here?’
‘No one’s that universally beloved. No one.’ Her second go at a smoke ring wasn’t much better, more legless sheep than doughnut. ‘You know what I think? I think...’
Hang on a minute.
Roberta hurried over to the window, squinting out the rain-pebbled glass. There wassomeone out there. A figure, barely visible through the downpour. ‘There! You see that?’
‘See what?’
She thumped a fingertip against the glass. ‘There: disappearing into the trees?’
Couldn’t make out much detail from this distance, but it was definitely a person, at the far end of the castle’s manicured gardens, disappearing into the woods.
Moore stared. ‘Everyone’s supposed to be confined to their rooms.’
She stuffed her e-cigarette away and lurched into a run. ‘Well don’t just stand there!’
Along the corridor, skidding around the corner and down the sweeping wooden steps, taking them two at a time andacross the lobby floor. Sprinting past the huge body-less stag. Wheeching the soggy high-vis raincoats off the coatstand by the door and thumping out into the dreich and drookit afternoon.
11
Roberta hurled one of the soggy high-vis jackets at Moore, struggling into her own as they hurtled around the side of the hotel, gravel crunching beneath their feet.
Then a hard left, running across the squelchy grass, rain crackling against her back and soaking into her hair as they made for the gap in the trees where the unknown sneaky bugger had vanished.
Roberta zipped herself up. ‘You got your cuffs on you?’
