‘Boy’s got a head like a curling stone.’ She turned and stomped back down the corridor. ‘Wake the buggers up, every last one of them. We need to make sure Nairn’s no’ crucified anyone else.’
Roberta wrapped another three-or-four foot of bandages around PC McKinnon’s ginger napper. ‘Will you hold still?’
The wee lad was still a bit wobbly, but at least his colour had returned. Possibly due to the very large brandy she’d liberated from the hotel bar and made him drink.
The open library door gave a clear view down into the lobby, where Sergeant Moore herded every single guest and staff member down the hotel stairs by torchlight. The whole lot shuffling about in their PJs, hair all squint, eyes all puffy, yawning and scratching. Whinging about what time do you call this and there better be an emergency and you had better believe the Chief Constable was aclosepersonal friend who wouldnotbe pleased.
Roberta tied the bandage off, nice and tight.
‘OW!’
‘Don’t be such a wimp.’
Outside, in the lobby, Moore held up a hand. ‘I know you’re all tired, but let’s everyone just pay attention and we’ll get you back to your beds as soon as possible.’ He consulted a clipboard. ‘Mr and Mrs Reeves?’
The fusty man stepped forwards, dragging his wife with him. The pair of them done up in matching floral jim-jams. ‘I wish to make astronglyworded complaint to your superior officer!’
‘Good for you. Now, off to bed.’ Moore ticked something on his clipboard. ‘Mr and Mrs Beresford?’
‘Present.’
‘Thank you. Off to bed for you too.’
Roberta double-checked her knot. ‘You didn’t seeanything?’
The constable shrugged. ‘One minute I was checking the library windows and then:pow.’ He rubbed his cheek. ‘Next thing I know, you’re belting me one.’
‘It was Nairn. I chased him off into the woods. At great personal risk, I might add.’ She sat back and examined her handiwork. ‘You’ll live.’ Mind you, there wasonething bugging her. ‘When was it? When did he attack you?’
McKinnon frown-winced. ‘Half one? No, tell a lie, cosI heard the grandfather clock in the billiard room striking quarter to two just before I came in here.’
Quarter to two, and she got up at what, quarter past-ish? Which meant Albert Nairn was sneaking about the hotel for at least half an hour, completely unsupervised.
She wandered over to the library window and scowled into the rainy darkness. Nairn was out there, somewhere, probably bunkering down in that taxidermy mausoleum of his, getting ready for a siege. But for thirty minutes he’d had the run of Skirivour Castle Hotel while everyone else was unconscious.
‘What the hell were you up to, you animal-stuffing little freak?’
With everyone sent back to bed, the lobby had returned to its gloomy quiet, but only Sergeant Moore, PC McKinnon, and Roberta were there to enjoy it.
Roberta leaned back against the stag’s plinth and took a sook on her e-cigarette. Blew a cloud of strawberry steam at the ceiling. ‘Well?’
‘All present and correct.’ Moore held up his clipboard, showing off all the scored-out names. ‘Whatever Albert Nairn was up to, it wasn’t killing anyone.’
McKinnon prodded at his bandaged head again. ‘Well, at least that’s something, right? Right?’
‘Aye, that or we got in the way before he could do it.’ She sent another strawberry cloud skyward. ‘Get your arse off to bed: Sergeant Moore will take the rest of your watch. But first thing tomorrow: we’re going to hunt Albert Buggering Nairn down and arrest his murdering arse.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ The wee loon scampered off, leaving them alone in the lobby.
Roberta gave Moore a good once-over. Scruffy hair, rabbit-skin slippers, red-and-blue webby pyjamas. ‘What is it with you and Spider-Man?’
‘Everyone’s got to have a hobby.’
He and McKinnon were as bad as each other. Mad as a tea party.
She shook her head and left him to it.
17
