The Viv Fraser Mysteries Box Set 1

by V Clifford

  Before she’d made a decision, the double doors at the end of the corridor swung open and Viv almost left her skin. A young female doctor, with a luminous pink stethoscope draped on her chest like a fashion accessory, glanced in Viv’s direction. But her mind was elsewhere and she stooped to unlock her door, without engaging. Now that she’d come this far, Viv had no choice but to find out what was happening on the other side of the door. Would she confront the person in the room or use an excuse for entering so that she could make an informed judgement? She rapped on the door, didn’t wait for an answer, but pushed the handle down and stepped in to find a woman wearing big glasses and a startled look behind a desk with her hands hovering above a keyboard. Another desk in the room also had a computer and a keyboard, but it didn’t seem to be awake and the neat pile of papers was a sign that it had been cleared for the weekend.

  ‘I’m looking for Dr Sanchez.’

  The woman seemed to relax. ‘He’s off duty. Can I help?’ Her soft, educated accent had a hint of west coast.

  Viv replied, ‘Probably not. Any idea when he’ll be back?’

  ‘Tuesday. Holiday weekend.’ She shrugged.

  ‘So he hasn’t been in today.’

  The woman shook her head. ‘Not to my knowledge. I’ve only been in for the last hour. So I wouldn’t swear under oath, but he’s supposed to be up north. What was it you wanted to speak to him about?’ Her voice was becoming slightly more interrogatory.

  Viv smiled her warmest smile. ‘Oh, nothing that can’t wait ’til Tuesday. But thanks anyway. Bummer that you’ve had to come in on a bank holiday weekend.’

  The woman nodded. ‘Not for long, though. Nearly done.’

  Viv glanced quickly round the room, checking for any other way in or out, but saw nothing. ‘Thanks again.’

  She pulled the door closed and, defeated, returned to her car. If the woman was telling the truth and she wasn’t staying long, it’d be worth Viv waiting and taking a look around. She checked her mobile but it hadn’t been Sal who’d tried to reach her. Viv guessed she was still out for the count. There were lots of exits from the hospital and Viv had to pray that by watching the main entrance she’d catch the woman on her way out. No guarantees.

  It was also worth considering what else this could all mean. For a start, would the signal have become even stronger if Viv had gone to the next floor? But for now the fact that the office belonged to Sanchez, a name she’d heard for the first time in the last few days, the woman in his office, whoever she was, was her best shot.

  She sat for the next forty minutes and nothing happened. Pissed off, she jumped out of the Rav and walked towards the entrance. It was busier now, with at least two dozen smokers loitering around the main entrance, some even in uniform. Viv had imagined that the whole site was designated non-smoking, not only indoors, but addiction was a strange animal and people went to great lengths to keep habits happy. As she approached the row of cars closest to the building, she spotted, through plate glass windows, the woman marching along the corridor, inside the building. Viv ducked behind a car, then walked in a crouch until she was sure she couldn’t be seen.

  The woman rummaged in her bag and as soon as she exited the building she paused, lit up a cigarette and edged through the crowd, exhaling the first draw through her nose, an action that, along with being away from her desk and having lost her big spectacles, made her appear more ladette and less officious. Viv marvelled at the sudden change. As if the woman had been playing the part of a PA rather than actually being a PA. Viv stared as the woman distanced herself from the other social pariahs, but continued to draw deeply on her cigarette, before ostentatiously grinding it out beneath the pointed toe of a patent leather stiletto. No notion of popping it in the bin. Viv wasn’t in the slightest anti-smoking but she was a take-your-litter-home freak, and it riled her to see someone who should know better, deliberately dump rubbish, however small.

  The woman walked straight by where Viv was crouching. She pointed a fob at the far side of the car park, and the lights of a small dark Toyota flashed. Now Viv had another decision to make. Should she nip back into the building to check the office above, and/or the computer, or should she follow the woman? The woman won and Viv raced back to the Rav.

  Creeping out of the car park, Viv kept the Toyota’s tail-lights at a safe distance. The woman took a right towards Edinburgh then turned first left onto a narrow road with a row of brick cottages on the right and a high wall running all the way south on the other side. Beyond the cottages, over-hanging mature trees made it feel like driving through a tunnel. An old estate wall on the right had a couple of large solid wooden gates with couch grass growing in front of them, indicating that they hadn’t been opened any time lately. At the top of the road, they reached a set of traffic lights and the woman took a dogleg right through an old entrance with large stone pillars topped by carved, moss-covered lions, their giant paws resting on stone globes. No sign of any gates. A casualty of the Second World War?

  There was no way that Viv would risk taking the Rav in, so she parked on the main road skipped through the gates and ran down the tree-lined tarmac drive. A vast, Victorian, turreted house loomed out beyond the trees at the end. From the look of the stonework it had recently been restored, and since there were allocated parking slots, it had probably been divided into flats. To the left of the old building stood a block of six incongruous modern flats, each with a parking space; and on the right, another branch of the drive led to what looked like old stables with garages. The Toyota’s lights were extinguished in the lane outside one of the wooden-fronted garages and the woman entered a small coach house opposite at the farthest end. Nothing in this area had been part of the restoration. Peeling paint on the door and downpipes was a sure sign that no one was giving the place any TLC.

  No sooner had the woman gone in than the porch light came on, and Viv jumped back into the shadow of a rhododendron bush. The woman had kicked off her heels and stood on the step in stockings, lighting another cigarette. Viv, astonished that she’d fill her lungs with nicotine at all, outside in all weathers so that her soft furnishings didn’t reek of tobacco, also noted that it had been less than five minutes since her last cigarette. Again the woman had a few draws, releasing the smoke in huge streams through her nose, before flicking the butt into the bushes and returning inside. Within seconds an upstairs light came on and Viv imagined the woman changing out of her office clothes into slouching kit.

  Now that Viv knew where to find her there was no point in hanging about, so she made her way back to the Rav, and returned to the hospital, compelled to take a look, even though the office would most likely be locked. She had her ways, though.

  The hospital seemed to get busier with less drinking time left on the clock. The later at night the more drunken accidents there were. Feeling confident about where to go and not expecting anyone to be around, she was surprised to spot the female doctor that she’d seen earlier, now locking her own office door.

  Viv hesitated, and feigned searching for something in her pockets until the woman disappeared through the double doors. As quickly as she could manage Viv pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and tried the handle, but the door was locked. She pulled out the first of her picks but it failed. She went through six or seven before she heard a reassuring click, amazed, but delighted, that this relatively new hospital hadn’t put in a card system – even Fettes were about to upgrade their secure areas from cards to iris recognition. She stepped into the darkness and immediately her foot touched something that didn’t feel good. She shuffled back toward the door, feeling that she wasn’t alone. She stretched along the wall in search of the light switch. Unlike in the movies, she wasn’t about to continue to stumble around in the dark, but she wasn’t ready for what she saw.

  The bulk of Steve Sanchez lay, face down, spread-eagled on the floor. Not moving and not breathing. ‘Shit!’ She glanced around just to make sure there definitely wasn’t another door in or out, ste
pped up to the body, and put two fingers on his carotid artery. Nothing. She bumped against the desk and the computer monitor leapt into life, the screen saver a photograph of a stunning looking woman with an arm around two very pretty young girls, all peas in a pod. So, not exactly in love with Geraldine, then? She checked the tidy desk. All the drawers were locked and the papers lying on the top were academic notes and medical journals. The bins were empty. A sweet smell, like mock lavender, rose up from the fabric of the swivel seat and within seconds she was smothering the sound of a sneeze into her upper sleeve. Time to make her exit.

  Wondering how long it might be before he was found, officially, Viv steadied her breathing and stepped out of his office. The corridor lights sprang to life. All quiet. She walked back toward the car park, brazenly stopping at the kiosk in the entrance to buy a bottle of water. The journey back to Doune would take less than an hour, but she was parched. The roads were deserted, the sky clear as a bell, but death was death even if she hadn’t known him. Could his death have been natural? She wondered about the secretary, if that was in fact who the female had been. The look on his face wasn’t contorted; he could have been asleep. There was just enough time to check for signs of a struggle. Nothing, a sign in itself. As she well understood, absence wasn’t nothing, it was the space where something should be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As Viv turned in through the gates leading to Sal’s cottage she heaved a sigh, psyching herself up for the conversation that lay ahead. The cottage was in darkness. Molly barked when Viv stepped up to the porch. She gave the door a light tap but entered without waiting for a reply.

  Once Viv had greeted Moll, she spotted Sal. Leaning against the doorjamb in her pyjamas, she spoke quietly, exhausted, ‘So where have you been? And dare I ask what you were up to with my laptop?’

  Light from the muted TV flickered in the sitting room. Sal gestured for them to go through. She clicked on a couple of lamps and sank onto the sofa. She tapped the space beside her and waited for Viv to join her. Viv was taken off guard and the familiar floral smell of Sal’s moisturiser lulled her for a moment. Viv peeled off her jacket and swung it over the back of a chair then took a seat. Rigid, she explained what she’d been up to. Starting with tracking the machine, through to following the secretary home, and finally what she had discovered on breaking into Sanchez’ office.

  Sal was speechless. Viv was a woman who got results, often by unorthodox means, but results nonetheless. Viv watched as all manner of emotions rolled across Sal’s face, until eventually some understanding broke that they were in this together. Her hand edged along the back of the sofa and reached out to Viv’s head. ‘So what’s next?’

  Viv tensed and sat forward. She’d come back to Doune to return Sal’s laptop but largely to pick up her kit. Sal surely didn’t expect her to ignore the attitude that had greeted her earlier?

  Viv stood up and rubbed her face. ‘D’you mind if I freshen up before I head home?’

  Sal looked crestfallen. ‘You don’t have to go. I’m sorry . . . I was freaked out by what that email said.’

  Viv shook her head, an imperceptible shake but enough. She took the stairs to the bathroom, asking herself what would need to happen inside her brain before it would be okay to stay. But the leap was too great after the day she’d had. She needed time to think and she’d do that best at home in her cosy little garret.

  Viv wasn’t an unpacker, so she didn’t take long to get her stuff assembled and carry it down to the hallway. Molly started spinning round in circles as if she too was desperate to get out. Viv crouched and soothed her by stroking her ears. Once her bags were in the car she stared at the front door, knowing she should go back inside and say goodbye. She didn’t. She reversed the car into the turning spot and slowly drove down the track. As she reached the estate gates Mac’s 4x4 was coming in and blocked her exit. ‘Shit!’

  He jumped out and came to her window. ‘Where are you off to now? I’ve been trying your mobile for hours.’ He grinned, nodding back towards the cottage. ‘I imagined you’d be kissing and making up.’

  Viv snorted. ‘Yeah, well, not quite. What are you doing here?’ She checked the clock, imagining it was too late for a social call, but it was only nine-fifty. ‘I’m heading back to Edinburgh.’

  He raised his eyebrows in a question.

  She was not prepared to answer. ‘Don’t ask. I’m knackered − a lot’s happened since I saw you last. I can’t face it now but I’ll give you a buzz in the morning. In fact if you’re going in,’ she gestured back over her shoulder with her head, ‘Sal will update you.’

  ‘I hoped to catch you earlier. Those bones up on Sheriffmuir are mostly for the archaeologists, except for one. Which, as you know, is enough to open a suspicious death enquiry.’ He smiled. ‘But thankfully not for me. Central will handle it . . . And I drove back over to the hotel. Couldn’t find anything that would give us a clue about who broke the window, but wasn’t welcomed with open arms by anyone in the bar, so something’s going on. I’m wondering if we really did just get caught in the crossfire. Anyway I’d better let you go.’ He sighed, with both hands leaning on the roof of the Rav, then tentatively said. ‘Everything okay?’

  Viv grinned back at him. ‘I said don’t ask. But since you have. No, it’s not okay.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘However, we’ve probably traced the person who sent those emails. Come on, Mac, let me past. I’m dying to get home, have a hot bath and sleep like the dead.’

  He shook his head. ‘I guess there’s no point in offering you a bed at mine? I’ve got a . . .’

  She shook her head. ‘Sweet of you to offer but I’d rather get back.’ Mac had rescued Viv on more than one occasion and whatever her suspicions he was always honourable.

  He sauntered back to the Audi and reversed out of the entrance to let Viv through. She waved and drove slowly along the lane, over Wade’s bridge, and onto the main road. Fifty minutes and she’d be climbing the stairs in the West Bow.

  The journey took a little over the time she’d estimated, and the whole way her head was full of self-recrimination. Sal was a reasonable woman not in the habit of making rash judgements, so she must have been convinced that Viv hadn’t been straight with her. Which meant evidence. She wouldn’t have blamed Viv without being convinced by the evidence. So what! What more evidence did she need than Viv’s integrity? Sal knew her well enough to believe that she was trustworthy. By the time she’d reached the West Bow, Viv had decided that cooling time was more than necessary. She’d let Sal work out who was worth investing in, Viv, or a complete stranger with dirty info. Then by the time she’d climbed to the top of her stairs, she couldn’t have given a rat’s arse, and didn’t want to hear from Sal or anyone else who doubted her in any way.

  On the way upstairs Viv passed a woman standing in the doorway to her flat on the first floor. She’d had very little to do with her beyond a ‘good morning’. The woman was a long-standing resident of the building, whereas Viv was relatively new. Her name was Shirley Reid and anything that Viv knew of her she’d heard from Ronnie, her immediate neighbour, also a long-termer and fount of knowledge about all things in the building. Shirley always smelled of healing herbs, and wore dangling earrings, brightly-coloured floaty skirts and baggy tee-shirts. Viv imagined the odd séance being held in the first floor flat, since at least once a month a similarly attired group of people turned up and left a couple of hours later. Although polite to each other neither had made any effort to become better acquainted. So Viv was surprised when, as she went to walk by her today, the woman turned to look her unnervingly in the eye.

  Slowly and quietly the woman said, ‘Hello. How are you?’ Never taking her small, green eyes off Viv’s.

  Viv, taken aback, stopped with her foot poised over the next step. She turned more fully to face the woman and nodded. ‘Er, I’m fine, thanks.’ And knowing she couldn’t cope with anyone telling them how they actually were, she resisted returning the question. Just as she w
as about to continue up the stairs, the woman cleared her throat intent on continuing. Viv wondered if she might be after gossip, but the woman said, ‘You’re not about to go on holiday are you?’

  This was weird. Viv stared at the woman’s unruly blond hair and said, ‘Sadly, not.’

  Shirley hesitated, about to speak again, but looked at her feet as if making a decision. ‘It’s just that I think you might be in danger.’

  Viv raised her eyebrows. Too late was the loud reply. ‘And what makes you say that?’

  Shirley flushed. ‘Oh, never mind. I just had a feeling, that’s all. A strong feeling. So I thought I’d let you know. We’re not supposed to make predictions but I think if you’ve seen something that might help someone . . . in danger . . .’ She shrugged.

  Viv raised her eyebrows in disbelief. This was all she needed, a loony psychic. ‘Well, thanks for the warning. I’ll bear it in mind.’

  ‘Truly, I’ve never done this to anyone before. Avoid the coast. The sea was the strongest impression.’

  Viv nodded again and moved upstairs. She muttered, ‘Thanks again,’ over her shoulder. But by the time she reached her own landing she was shaking her head and her eyes were reaching into her hairline. ‘What the hell’s next?’ She whispered to herself as she pushed open the door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Viv was woken, in the middle of the night, by the sound of her own sobs. She laid a hand on her chest to ease the weight of melancholy. Breathing deeply she tried to calm the irregular pounding of her heart. She struggled to retrieve snippets of the dream. Something about her and Dawn, her now deceased ex. They’d been out for an evening, everything was unusually pleasant, and Viv’s guard was down. Dawn had talked enthusiastically, encouragingly, about their future together. Viv, eager to hear it, felt full of hope until they entered the back garden of their home. It was a warm night and the moon shimmered across a twenty-five-metre swimming pool. The house, like an African safari lodge, was built of wood, on two storeys with a balcony on stilts. A rickety wooden ladder reached up onto the veranda, and light spilled out from every room. At the far edge of the pool an athletic young woman, wearing an orange and navy Speedo swimsuit, sat rocking, bracing her knees. When Viv and Dawn approached, the girl, her face streaked with tears, shouted at Dawn that she’d been waiting for two hours. The depth of Dawn’s sympathetic reaction made Viv realise that all the previous talk of the evening had been just that, talk. Distraught, Viv took off running and running, but heavy legs made a rapid escape impossible.