Mrs Flannery looked like a fallen drunk, her body leaning up against the dusty wine rack, her legs spreadeagled on the crumbling stone floor in front of her, the cheap wine still holding fast in one hand.
It’s little wonder then that Perry’s initial reaction was so benign. If it wasn’t for the deep red gash on the side of her head and the sickly smell of dried blood and something else, something he didn’t understand, anyone might assume the woman had got stuck into the hotel’s wine supplies and passed out. It was that thought that propelled Perry up the cellar stairs and back into the dining room.
Maybe she just needed a strong cup of coffee and a bandage!
By then the group were gathered around the bar, talking, but the conversation promptly stopped when they caught sight of Perry.
“Are you okay?” asked Lynette.
“What’s going on?” said Simon.
Perry waved a hand in front of them, speechless at that point, and simply turned and ran back down the corridor.
Within minutes the group were all standing at the bottom of the cellar stairs, watching, eyes wide, as Ronnie leaned over the body, tut-tutting to herself. Eventually she stood straight, rubbed her back and offered them a resigned sigh.
There was no sugar-coating this one.
“Definitely been struck a mortal blow, most likely from the Grange,” she said, causing the eyes to turn to saucers. “Looks like she never knew what hit her. There’s blood but not a lot of it, so it wouldn’t have taken long.”
“You’re saying somebody deliberately killed the poor woman?” said Flo, still trying to catch her breath.
“Oh dear God,” said Claire, turning to Simon, who was just behind her. He reached out and drew her to his chest.
“This is frankly unbelievable!” he said crossly, as though another body had ruined everything.
And in many ways it had. They might like to pretend that Vale’s death was somehow an accident, the fire a mere coincidence. But this… this was clearly murder.
Something was very wrong.
“I don’t understand,” said Perry, hand grasping his chest like he was about to have a heart attack. “I saw her drive off this morning. I’d swear to it!”
“She must have come back,” said Missy, her cheeks flushed as she stared at the body, but Alicia was shaking her head.
“If she did come back, then where’s the van? We were just outside, and the van is still missing.” She asked Ronnie, “Any idea how long she’s been lying down here?”
“As I keep telling you all, I’m not a trained physician.”
“But if you had to guess?”
The ex-nurse picked up the dead woman’s arm and let it drop again. “There’s a little rigor mortis, and that usually takes a few hours to set in. Of course it’s cool down here, so that would have delayed the process. Maybe half a day, I really don’t know.”
“That’s okay; we can work this out,” said Alicia, trying to compute the facts. She was a trained journalist and liked to work with evidence. As horrific as the sight before them was, that was her way of regaining control, halting the crazy images in her head.
“So, we all saw Mrs Flannery at breakfast. Then Perry saw her van leave just before book club started.” She glanced at Perry. “Around tenish?” He nodded bleakly. “So she either came back while we were discussing the book and we didn’t notice her…”
“Or?” said Lynette, not believing that for one moment.
“Or you didn’t see her leave at all, Perry, and that was somebody else entirely.”
He gulped, gobsmacked by the suggestion. “Somebody else? Driving Mrs Flannery’s van?”
“It was the murderer! Has to be,” squealed Missy. “He killed Mrs Flannery and escaped in her van.”
“Could a woman have done this?” asked Simon, and Claire looked startled by the suggestion and stepped away, towards Alicia.
Simon held a palm out. “I don’t mean any offence,” he began, but Ronnie was nodding her head.
“Wine bottles make a pretty good weapon, I reckon. Nice and solid; not too heavy. If a woman hated Mrs Flannery enough, she could probably pull it off. Did you have someone in mind?”
There was a glint of humour in her eyes, but Simon wasn’t laughing and neither was anyone else. They now had two dead bodies, a murderer on the loose, and a fire on the horizon.
Their orbit had shifted dramatically again.
~
From his perch on the edge of the escarpment, the old man dragged on a rollie cigarette and wondered about Vale and the fire and the folks at the lodge and how terrified they must feel now. He had felt that terror once himself, a long time ago. Now, not so much. Now he welcomed it. Was disappointed the wind had changed. He remembered the last great fire on this mountain. Back then there was fear and disappointment, but of a different kind.
His mind drifted back further, to the way things used to be. The endless music, the excitable guests, the lovely, lovely Lydia. Oh how he had adored that woman, would do anything for her, scale any mountain, fight any dragon.
And hadn’t he?
Hadn’t he done all that and more?
Stumping out his smoke, he slowly made his way back to the hut. There was no use thinking about that now. It was done and dusted. The fire had seen to that.
Still, it didn’t stop him from dancing with her every night in his dreams…
~
The fresh bottles of red wine and one of sherry—pilfered from near Mrs Flannery’s corpse—did little to mellow the book club’s frazzled nerves as they returned to the bar and replenished their glasses, trying to come to terms with how the cook had been dead all day without them realising. Not unlike Vale.
“I can’t believe we ran an entire book club while the poor possum was lying down there, waiting to be discovered,” said Missy.
“It wasn’t an entire book club,” Claire retorted. “And how were we to know? We thought she’d left.”
“She did leave! I’m sure of it!” said Perry. “I wasn’t lying about that!”
Alicia took one of Perry’s hands and gave him a reassuring smile. “No one is saying you’re lying, Perry. But maybe you’re confused about what you saw.”
“I saw the van drive off. I promise you I did!”
“Yes, but did you actually see Mrs Flannery driving? Think back. Did you see her get in? Did she give you a wave or something? Those windows are tinted, if I recall. It might have been somebody else behind the wheel.”
He flung a hand to his mouth as the reality hit him. “I must have seen the killer! I must have!” His hand began to flap. “They must know that! They could come back and finish me off!”
“If the killer was driving that van, Perry, they’d be mad to return to the scene of the crime,” said Simon. “Besides, they couldn’t get back through the fire even if they wanted to.”
That seemed to settle his nerves a little, although it did little for Alicia’s, and she grasped her wine and took a comforting gulp.
“Do you remember anything about the driver? Anything at all?” asked Ronnie.
Perry was shaking his head. “No. Alicia’s right. The van windows are tinted. I think I assumed that was Mrs Flannery in there. I…” He hid his face in his hands, and Alicia gave his back a gentle rub.
Flo cleared her throat. The young ones were getting in a tizz, and even she was starting to feel fuzzy. And it wasn’t just the sherry. “So, let me try to get this straight,” she said, placing her tiny glass back on the bar top with a slight wobble. “Do we think that whoever killed Mrs Flannery and Vale—” She turned steely eyes to Ronnie. “Because I don’t believe for one moment that man simply passed in his sleep, Ron. I mean, I might be doddery, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Are we saying that there was some kind of madman up here at the lodge? Someone no one noticed. And that he killed two people and just drove off, happy as Larry?”
They all stared into their respective drinks. It did sound incredible.
“But we checked the place thoroughly,” said Lynette.
“Not that thoroughly,” said Perry. “You didn’t find the cellar, did you? There could be other hidey holes.”
“Ew creepy!” said Missy.
“That’s irrelevant,” said Simon. “We searched the place this afternoon, long after the van had vanished, so there could have been someone else here this morning, someone none of us knew about. They could have been staying in the staff quarters or one of the many empty rooms about the place. Whoever it was obviously had some beef with the hotel staff—”
“You seriously think two people were murdered over shoddy service?” said Lynette. “That’s what Tripadvisor’s for.”
Simon frowned. Now that she put it like that…
“He’s just trying to be positive, Lynette,” said Claire, rushing to his defence.
And she was right. Because if it wasn’t some hidden stranger who’d since taken off in the van, then it had to be one of them, and that didn’t bear thinking about.
Lynette slapped them all with a smug smile. “At least there’s one silver lining in all this. At least Blake has been vindicated. Because he left after Mrs Flannery’s van went missing. So unless he can drive two cars at once, he’s in the clear.”
“Not necessarily,” said Perry, causing her smile to slip. “He could have killed her after breakfast, driven off in her van, dumped it out of sight down the road, then doubled back—he’s fit enough for that—and then turned up to book club all bright-eyed and bushy tailed. I mean, there was thirty minutes between the van vanishing and club starting. More than enough time.”
Lynette’s jaw dropped. “You really have it in for that guy! Why would he even bother? Why come back and then take off again? He could have killed them both last night.”
“Provide an alibi?” Perry suggested.
“Okay but answer this, smarty-pants. Why kill them in the first place? What possible motive could Blake have to want to kill two staff members? He wasn’t here long enough to have a bad experience.” Lynette glared at Simon. “What beef could he possibly have against them?”
No one had an answer for that although Perry had an idea how they might find out. He went to say something, then thought better of it and clamped his lips shut. He’d keep that to himself for now.
“There’s no point getting our knickers in a knot,” said Flo, stifling a yawn. “I think Simon’s on the money. Whoever this madman is, he’s cleared off and we’re now safe as houses. I’m going to take one final peek at that fire, then I’m heading to bed. And it wouldn’t hurt you lot to do the same. We could all do with a good night’s sleep to settle the nerves. Who knows what’s ahead of us tomorrow?”
“I’ll come with you,” said Ronnie. “I’m beat. Good night, folks.”
They all called out good night as the two women made their way out.
“Who cares about tomorrow?” said Alicia, turning back to the others. “It’s tonight I’m worried about. There were eleven of us up here yesterday, happy as Larry, as Flo would say.” Twelve if you counted the old-timer in the forest. Alicia hadn’t mentioned him yet. There hadn’t been any time, and now it felt like a distraction. “Today we’ve got a fire roaring up the mountain, two dead bodies and one man missing.”
“That leaves just eight of us,” said Simon.
“And then there were eight…,” said Missy, swallowing her giggle this time.