Free Murder at Midnight by C. S. Challinor

off their boots and shoes on the mat. Rex divested himself of his anorak while John approached Drew standing outside the broom closet . Rex took stock. Located opposite the blank wall of the living room, whose door was farther down the hall, the closet was not visible to anyone in the room, unless they were positioned in the doorway. The house agent stepped aside for John who held the flashlight Rex had given him.
    “This is the last place I looked,” Drew said.
    There was little room in the closet beneath the stairs, which housed mops and a vacuum cleaner, or Rex would have thought to look in it. As it was, he could see Ken Fraser in a comatose stupor slumped up against the far wall with his knees to his chest, before John’s crouching body hid him entirely from view. After a few minutes, the medic backed out of the space and turned a concerned look upon the three men waiting for news.
    “He’s not breathing. No pulse. I closed his eyes. I’m afraid he’s gone.”
    “Dead?” Alistair asked in shock. “Are you sure?”
    “Course I’m sure.”
    “Was it the booze?” Drew asked. “Alcohol poisoning or something?”
    “Possibly. It would be better if I could examine him properly. But we need to get an ambulance here at once just to be safe.”
    Alistair got on his phone while Rex made arrangements to take Ken into the living room. He called Helen from the doorway and asked her to cover the sofa by the side window.
    “We have a body,” he explained. “We found Ken Fraser in the broom cupboard.”
    Helen gasped, clamping a hand to her mouth. “Dead?” she finally managed to ask, echoing Alistair.
    “Think so, but we don’t know how he died. John and Drew are bringing him oot now.”
    She tore the festive tiara from her abundant blond hair. “I can’t believe this,” she said, on the verge of tears.
    He took her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “I know, lass. And tonight of all nights.” Or any night, for that matter.
    “Well,” she said wiping away an incipient tear. “We had better just deal with it. It’s not like we haven’t before.”
    “Helen,” he said, cupping her chin and lifting her face to his. “Just when I think I couldn’t love you any more, I find that I do.”
    Her bottom lip trembled, but she managed a smile. “I suppose I’d better get a sheet and whatnot.” She hurried up the stairs to the armoire on the landing. He regretted putting her through such a situation again, and marveled at how she always came up trumps.
    He entered the living room with his flashlight and tried to rouse Catriona in her armchair. Her eyes were closed, and she did not respond. He dreaded having to inform her that her husband was in all likelihood dead. He shook her more forcefully and repeated her name. Her head lolled to one side, her graying auburn hair falling over her face.
    “John,” he shouted hoarsely.
    Drew and the medic were laying Ken’s body on the sofa as Alistair and Helen stood by in silence.
    “What’s the matter?” John asked approaching.
    “You had better check Catriona. She’s not showing any signs of life either.”
    John swore abruptly and flew to her side. The other guests were beginning to ask questions from where they sat around the fireplace. They probably thought Ken was sleeping and the others were simply making him more comfortable. Rex told them he would explain in a minute and to keep their seats in the meantime. He heard some murmurs of concern but his attention was now directed to something puzzling as he looked over at Ken. He was sure the gray and white scarf around his neck had been loosened during the course of the night, but now it was knotted securely. Perhaps Ken had grown cold inside the closet and tightened it.
    Acting on a hunch, Rex went over to the body and, bending over, untied the scarf. On the left side of Ken’s neck he noticed a small puncture wound oozing blood. A lot more had been absorbed by the scarf. Upon closer inspection, he