Page 3 of A Very Bookish Murder
There didn’t appear to be any pulse or breathing, but Ally knew she had to try something. She dragged Jodi gently out of the tiny space and into the main cloakroom, then began to do compressions on her chest, as she’d once been instructed during a first-aid class. Oh, how she wished she’d paid more attention, never dreaming that she’d ever have to do it!
All this time, Joyce had continued screaming, the result of which was a stampede of women all arriving on the scene.
‘Has she collapsed?’
‘Is she breathing?’
‘Is shedead?’
‘For God’s sake,’ Ally shouted as she continued to press vigorously, ‘someone call the ambulance!’
Mobile phones at the ready, several of the women were doing just that. Then a small, thin woman who, according to her name badge, was Anne, offered to take over. ‘I was a nurse,’ she said as she relieved an already panting and grateful Ally.
Another woman crouched beside her. ‘I’ll take over if you get exhausted,’ she said to Anne.
Ally stood up and pushed her way through the appalled cluster of women and went in search of Callum Dalrymple, the manager.
‘What the hell’s going on, Ally?’ he asked as he headed along from the reception area. ‘What’s all the fuss about?’
‘We need to call the police, Callum. Jodi Jones has been strangled.’ Ally took his arm and led him through the door of the ladies’ room.
‘Oh my God!’ he exclaimed as he followed Ally in and stared at the body on the floor.
‘We’ve phoned for the ambulance,’ one of the more coherent women told him. ‘They say the air ambulance will be here in about half an hour and will need somewhere to land.’
Callum rubbed his forehead. ‘Right, right,’ he said, gathering his thoughts. ‘Will any of you ladies with cars out there kindly remove them from the car parkright nowand leave them parked on the road.’ He turned to Ally. ‘I must speak to the other guests to get the car park cleared because I can’t think of anywhere else round here where a helicopter can land easily.’
The women, many of them supporting each other, all headed obediently towards the car park. Within minutes, some other guests were streaming out and starting up their cars and, after about ten minutes, all was clear, and the women headed back into the Garden Room, chattering non-stop.
Callum re-entered the room, this time with a bottle of malt whisky and a bottle of brandy, followed by a waiter with a large tray of glasses.
‘You’ve all had a massive shock,’ he shouted through the babble of voices, ‘so you’ll be in need of a wee dram or something. It’s on the house, so help yourselves and’ – here he paused to ensure he had their attention – ‘no one leaves this room.No one! I’ve called the police, and that’s their orders. They’ll be here shortly.’
Ally wondered how Anne was making out, but the rule applied to her too, so she concentrated on helping the women pour their drinks. Doing this gave her the opportunity to assess who’d left the Garden Room at the beginning of the break. She’d consult her list and try to add some brief descriptions to the women’s names.
In the meantime, she could hear:
‘Nothing to do with me!Inever left the room!’
‘Neither did I!Youknow, cos you were sitting next to me!’
‘It has to be that Irish woman!’
‘I hate to say it, but I really fancied that scarf.’
Anne, looking exhausted, reappeared and approached Ally. ‘Barbara’s taken over from me,’ she said, ‘but, to be honest, we’re wasting our time. That woman’s dead.’
Ally nodded, then, consulting her list, saw that Barbara was from Birmingham and wrote biographies. Anne, from Walsall, was a writer of women’s fiction.
She then found herself included in a group of five very shaken women, all of whom insisted they had not left the room before Ally discovered Jodi’s body. However, all four of her guests at the malthousehadbeen to the ladies’ room at one time or another during the period in question, and so had the red-haired Della, and two others whose name badges weren’t close enough to read. Ally kept hearing Della’s words: ‘God, I’d kill forthat scarf!’ But would you want the thing after you’d throttled someone with it? Probably not.
A large lady, with grey hair scraped back into a severe bun, snapped, ‘Well, I’ve come all the way up here from Plymouth and for what? No Jodi, no course!’
‘I’m so glad I went for a wee just before we came in here!’ exclaimed a tiny lady with the most beautiful dark-brown eyes. Ally looked surreptitiously at her list. Anita was from Bradford and wrote about partition in India and how it had affected her family. Interesting lady.
Callum had come into the room again and made his way towards Ally. ‘I cannot believe this,’ he muttered to her. ‘We’ve never had a murder in this hotel before!’
Ally patted his arm. ‘Hopefully this will soon be sorted out.’ She didn’t really believe it would be, but she wanted to do all she could to soothe his nerves. She liked Callum. She’d known him from when she’d first arrived in Locharran and, although he was younger than her, she had rather fancied him, mainly because of his very blue Paul Newman-type eyes. That, of course, was before he began to go out with her friend, Linda, who owned The Bistro, just a few yards along the road from the hotel – and before Ally had met the lovely Ross Patterson.
