She danced backwards until the wall stopped her going any further, grabbed a pheasant in its bell jar from the nearest sideboard and hefted it over her head as a weapon...
The monster did exactly the same thing, at exactly the same time.
Oh you sillysod.
Roberta lowered the pheasant and the Roberta in the oversized gilt-edged mirror did the same. Well, it was an easy mistake to make: creepy castle in the middle of creepy nowhere, surrounded by creepy things, hunting for a creepy killer. Was bound to put you a bit on edge.
She scowled at her traitorous reflection, with its rumpled face and hair that looked like an accident in a black-and-white candyfloss factory. Still, on the bright side, if her appearance startledher, it would probably scare the living crap out of anyone else.
The pheasant went back where she’d found it and Roberta stepped through into the conservatory.
Silence.
She stared up at the glass roof – completely clear. It hadactuallystopped raining. Not only that, a fissure opened in the thick cloud cover, growing as she stood there, flooding the conservatory with soft grey moonlight.
Couches and armchairs were arranged in little groups, orbiting wicker coffee tables – their glass tops glistening as she drifted her torch across them. Another shock-horror: the place wasn’t littered with furry corpses. As if they’d finally run out of dead things to put on display.
She crept around the conservatory, peering behind every couch to make sure no sneaky wee gamekeeper-slash-murderer was hiding there. Which they weren’t. Then checked the French doors out to the garden were locked.
The handle twisted beneath her fingertips and both doors swung open on silent hinges.
That wasn’t good: they’d been locked the last time she’d checked, at the end of her shift – just before the idiot McKinnon took over.
Outside, moonbeams caught the mist rising from the dark world, making it glow like it was haunted. That gap in theclouds widened even further, bathing the gardens in cold dead light...
Cheery thought.
She had another bash at whispershouting, ‘McKinnon? Where the hell are you, you useless wee sheep-shagger?’ Silence. ‘McKinnon?’
So what was she supposed to do now? Close the doors and lock them, potentially shutting the idiot outside, or leave them open and risk Albert Nairn getting in?
She turned and frowned back into the hotel.
Assuming Nairn wasn’talreadyinside, and this was his escape route. In which case locking the doors and pocketing the key might trap him inside. Where they could catch the sinister bastard. But knowing her luck, it would just end up with PC McKinnon hammering on the windows at four in the morning, demanding to be let in before the pixies, or that horned squirrel-thing got him.
Ah well, it was his own silly fault.
She pulled the French doors closed, locked them both, and pocketed the key. Curled her free hand into a fist. Then turned and marched back into the main body of the hotel.
If Albert Nairn reallyhadsnuck in, he was in for a nasty surprise.
They’d cleared away the tables and chairs from the wedding, leaving the ballroom empty and hollow. No Albert Nairn.
He wasn’t in the billiard room either, where the only sound was the grandfather clock, ticking in the corner.
Nor in the dining room. Kitchen. Lobby...
Roberta stepped into the library, running her torch over the chairs and bookshelves. Moonlight spilled through thewindows, painting the tartan carpet in colour-stealing shades of grey.
Beginning to look like PC McKinnon had locked himself outside. OK, sotechnicallyshe’d done the locking, but that’s what he got for mucking about when he should’ve been patrolling the hotel. Not her fault he was an idiot.
Still, better go back to the conservatory and let him in again. Give him one of her famous motivational speeches about doing what you’re bloody well told. And maybe a free kick up the arse as well.
She turned back towards the door and froze.
Bugger...
There was a body, lying face down by the science fiction novels, in full Police Scotland kit, partially hidden behind an antique leather sofa. PC McKinnon.
