Robbie appeared from the side of the house, a look of concern on his face.
‘What’s happened?’ he demanded.
But no one stopped to talk; Alec, Jeannie and Jake were running, into the house, then up the stairs to the first floor.
Rona stood at the end of the short corridor. There was blood on her dress. At her feet lay the body of a man.
‘I thought he’d just fainted,’ said Rona. ‘Then I turned him over . . .’
Alec and Jake had gone to the body. It was John Gordon, and his throat had been cut. Blood had gushed out and had soaked his clothes.
‘Jeannie, get the ambulance and the police,’ said Alec.
As he spoke, Jeannie was already halfway down the stairs, running to the phone at the reception desk.
First Dougie MacClain, now John Gordon, thought Jake.
‘What’s that in his hand?’ asked Robbie.
They looked. A torn-off piece of material was clenched in Gordon’s closed left fist. Robbie shot a suspicious look at Jake.
‘That looks the same as your jacket,’ he said.
Jake shook his head.
‘There are loads of jackets made of the same material,’ he said.
‘Not here,’ said Robbie. And suddenly he had snatched the key ring from his father’s belt and was moving swiftly towards Jake’s and Lauren’s room.
‘Hey!’ called Jake.
‘Robbie!’ called Alec.
But Robbie had already unlocked the door of the room and rushed in. Jake hurried after him.
‘Now look!’ he protested. ‘You can’t just come in here and . . .’
Robbie had thrown open the wardrobe door and was rummaging through the clothes hanging up. With a cry of triumph he pulled a jacket from its hanger.
‘There!’ he yelled, brandishing it.
Jake looked at the jacket, stunned. There was a tear in the material, near the pocket.
And it’ll match the one in Gordon’s hand, thought Jake with a deep sick feeling. I’m being framed!
‘Look, Dad!’ said Robbie, holding the jacket towards his father, pointing at the place where the material had been torn from it.
‘I didn’t do it,’ insisted Jake, turning to Alec MacClain. ‘This is a set-up.’
‘Oh yes?’ demanded Robbie. His face showed a mixture of anger and triumph. Turning to his father, he said, ‘I bet it was him who killed Dougie. Him and his girlfriend!’
‘No!’ protested Jake.
There was the sound of a woman giving an angry shout from downstairs, and then the pounding of feet up the stairs. They hurried out of the room to see Pam Gordon arriving at the top of the stairs. She stopped when she saw the dead body of her husband, and then moved purposefully towards him. Alec MacClain tried to step in her way, but she pushed him roughly aside. She knelt by the body, her face changing from pain to despair, and then deep deep anger, all in a few seconds.
‘He did it!’ shouted Robbie, pointing at Jake.
Pam Gordon turned and looked up at Jake, and the hatred and anger in her eyes seared into him. If she could, she’d kill me right now, thought Jake.
‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t me!’
‘We all ought to go downstairs and wait for the police,’ said Alec MacClain.
‘I’m staying here with him,’ said Pam Gordon.
Her tone was flat and obstinate. There was no way she was going to be moved from John Gordon’s body. Alec MacClain nodded, then he shepherded Jake, Rona and Robbie downstairs.
Chapter 15
Jake sat in the bar area, his mind in a whirl. Who had killed John Gordon? Someone who’d been able to get into his and Lauren’s room and tear a piece off his jacket to plant in Gordon’s hand. One of the MacClain family? They had the key to his room. No, Jake told himself dismissively. Not the MacClains. The Russians? But there had been no sign of any of the Russians around the guest house. But then a good assassin wouldn’t be spotted. They’d creep in, do the kill, then creep out again. And they’d have the tools to open a simple lock.
What about Muir? Could it have been the American? He hadn’t been seen since he left that morning for a ramble over the countryside; but that didn’t mean he hadn’t doubled back, killed Gordon, and then slipped away again, unseen.
He looked up as Alec MacClain came into the room.
‘I didn’t do it,’ he said. ‘Someone’s trying to frame me. I don’t know why, but they are.’
‘The police are on their way,’ said Alec.
Jake nodded. They’d arrest him on suspicion, he was sure of that. After all, the only piece of evidence pointed to him being the killer. His main concern was Lauren. He needed to get a message to her, tell her what had happened. But he couldn’t leave the guest house, not until the police had been.