Devil's Garden

by Aline Templeton

  ‘No, no, of course not.’ This clearly wasn’t the reaction Sascha had been expecting and she sounded a little tetchy as she went on, ‘It’s just it seemed so awful that with all the Foundation is doing for us I couldn’t rise above stupid comments by one of the other writers and let myself down by responding in kind.’

  Clearly, Cassie was now meant to ask which one. She said, ‘I suppose it’s inevitable that creative people do have volatile temperaments. I’m sure it will all blow over. But tell me, are you finding this is going to be a useful week for you?’

  To be fair to Sascha, she was quick to recognise defeat. She clasped her hands together and said, ‘Oh, I can’t tell you how much! It’s – it’s inspirational, just being here. I know I sounded gauche when we spoke before but actually meeting Ms Harper’s daughter threw me a bit and I blurted out the “greatest fan” rubbish. But I’ve really studied her work, read everything I could about her and I feel if I could actually talk to her she would reach out to me as a kindred spirit.’

  Somehow Cassie didn’t think Anna would see it quite like that. ‘You’ll have the chance to talk to her at the end of the week when she takes the masterclass, you know.’

  ‘Of course, and I’m thrilled about that. But sitting in the group with other writers isn’t the same as a one-to-one would be. You’re her daughter – you must know how I could approach her.’

  Cassie laughed, shaking her head. ‘Sascha, I can’t think of any approach that would be likely to meet with success. She pours her energy into her work and she must necessarily restrict her other activities. I’m sorry. I know it disappoints a lot of people.’

  ‘I see. And of course I understand.’ There was that hint of annoyance in her voice again, but then she smiled. ‘It’s wonderful that she used precious time to set this up for people like me – I’m fascinated by the whole idea of the Foundation. Look, I know you’re very busy, but could I take you out for lunch sometime this week? I’d really enjoy getting to know you a bit better. You must have such a fascinating life!’

  ‘That’s a very kind offer,’ Cassie said. ‘But I’m sure you’ll understand that just at the moment I simply haven’t the time, with the launch of Jacob’s Angel imminent. In fact …’ She turned her wrist as if to look at her watch.

  Sascha did take the cue and stood up saying, ‘Of course. Well, thanks for seeing me, anyway.’

  Cassie looked after her very thoughtfully as she went to the door. And just as Sascha turned away she had caught a look on her face that meant she wasn’t too surprised that when Gil did indeed come to report on the fracas he said, ‘She looks all sugar and spice, you know, but my goodness, she has an ugly temper. She gave Jason Jackson a look that was positively evil.’

  Towards two o’clock in the morning the clear sky darkened as a great mass of purplish cloud blotted out the stars. A snow squall started, great soft flakes that fell thicker and faster until the ground was covered and the air was a mass of swirling whirling white, the street lamps no more than balls of sodium orange light.

  Half suffocated by the feathery stuff clinging to his face, Jason Jackson swore as he struggled up the hill towards Highfield, taking two steps forward and sliding one step back. Perhaps he should have waited, but the forecast was for worse to come later and he was too impatient anyway to postpone it till better weather came.

  He couldn’t think why he hadn’t thought of it before. Of course he should have known that Kayleigh had the code to take off the security alarms – she went in at seven to have everything ready for their breakfast – but it was only on Saturday evening that it had suddenly clicked. He’d had to come on heavy before she would give it to him and she’d driven a hard bargain once she did, but now he had the Open Sesame to the treasure cave of Anna’s past.

  The house was in darkness so his worst problem would be the security lights, and as he punched in the gate code and walked into the garden they flashed on immediately. But Kayleigh had said that they slept at the back, and at this hour surely they would be asleep. He went on, crossing his fingers.

  Now the snow was his friend: the great plate glass windows were obscured by it if anyone did look out and it muffled sound too. He was making footprints, admittedly, but it was so wet underfoot that he was confident the evidence wouldn’t be there in the morning. Now he was shivering, not with the cold but with excitement, like a dog.

  In the eerie snow-stillness he took off his shoes, leaving them on the step under the arch above the front door, then keyed in the other code and tried the handle cautiously. Well maintained, like everything in this house, it swung open smoothly and the only sound was the click as he shut it again. He winced and stood still in the shadow until he could be sure there was no reaction.

  It was pitch-dark inside. Jackson took out his phone and shone it round the great yawning space and along the gallery above until he saw a passage underneath that must lead towards the back of the house – and, he hoped, to the answers to all his questions. Across the hall and under the stairs, Kayleigh had said, for Anna’s study.

  A few yards down the passage, the beam of light picked out a flat-panelled door in some heavy pale wood; that should be it. Again, it opened easily and quietly; he closed it over but didn’t risk shutting it in case anyone was listening, disturbed by the faint click of the front door.

  This was the right place. She did herself well, did Anna. The torchlight picked out expensive-looking modern rugs, comfortable chairs, a fireplace where embers were still faintly glowing. At the other end there was a wall of books readily accessible from her desk with its dark red leather office chair and its flashy computer equipment and there, yes, right there, was a bank of three filing cabinets. They were made of light wood and each had a card slot showing numbers and letters – some sort of office code, presumably.

  Jackson drew a deep breath. His hands were shaking as he went towards them, afraid now that even in this inner sanctum they might be locked against any unauthorised access. He tugged at the first one; it slid out with only a tiny sigh of movement and he punched the air in triumph.

  Where to start, though? He didn’t have unlimited time and there were literally hundreds of documents in each of the cabinets. He looked at them helplessly for a moment, then noticed a lever-arch file lying on the top of one of them. When he picked it up, there was a whole index showing everything they contained and he gave a wolfish grin as he played the torch down the pages. He did admire efficiency! And here was what he was looking for: Personal. The cabinet nearest the window, then.

  It took only a moment to find the drawer and he took out the files – four of them – and laid them on the desk. There was a shaded lamp; he paused again for a moment listening intently for any stir of movement on the air, then switched it on.

  It gave him a real kick to sit on Anna’s literary throne and open up the story of her intimate life – all the ammunition he needed to make sure that his next book would be given kid-glove treatment, maybe even a cover puff from Anna herself. Not to mention compensation for what she’d done to the last one as well.

  Marta had fallen into bed exhausted at midnight. Now she was simply too tired to get properly to sleep, just dropping off for a few minutes and then jerking awake again.

  She and Anna had talked endlessly about the problem of Cassie. Since she was a teenager she’d wanted to rebel – touch of her mother there – but with careful manipulation she could usually be talked round. Felix’s death had changed all that and now she seemed actively hostile. How could you protect someone who was determined not to be protected?

  Marta had tried to look on the bright side – ‘At least she’s agreed to being driven. Davy will see to it that she’s all right’ – but Anna wasn’t ready to be reassured.

  ‘And then he drops her at the cottage, out there all on its own. She’s so vulnerable, Marta, but she won’t accept it. And I can’t think what we can say to persuade her. We could have played up the death threats scenario after she mentioned it, but sh
e’d want to know why the usual protection stuff wasn’t swinging into action.’

  There was really no answer to that but they went round and round, stressed already and getting more stressed the longer they talked. It was almost midnight when Marta said, ‘I could get Davy to go round there tomorrow and put in some extra security – a panic button, say. We’ll think of something to tell her tomorrow,’ and at last Anna had been prepared to go to bed.

  Now Marta was moving restlessly to try to find the position that might court sleep. Perhaps her eyelids were beginning to get heavy … Then she heard a click – soft but heavy, like a big door shutting. The front door?

  The house should be completely silent. She sat up, listening. She’d slept with her door open lately in case Anna was wakeful and her room was the one nearest the stairs. As she listened, barely breathing, a trace of light swept across the opening. Someone was inside the house!

  She slipped out of bed and tiptoed on to the landing. The light was now pointing down the passage under the stairs and leaning over the gallery she could see it being played on the door to Anna’s study. She heard the tiny sound as it was opened and caught the outline of a male figure before he went inside and shut the door behind him.

  Only pausing to pick up the fob key from her bedside table, Marta crept along to the security control room next to her bedroom, its door sliding silently open as she pressed the fob. She closed it behind her before she switched on the light.

  There was a panic button, but she ignored it meantime. There was a desk with a terminal on it, showing roving CCTV pictures of every room in the house in turn and she sat down, looking for the right button to press. Click! And the monotone pictures of the dark, empty house gave way to colour and movement as it homed in on Anna’s lighted study. She pressed again to lock it on position.

  There was a man sitting at Anna’s desk with a pile of files from one of the cabinets in front of him. He had opened one and was reading through it, but he was frowning, flicking over the pages. Then he laid it aside and opened another one.

  Marta studied him intently. He was wearing a hoodie so his face was in shadow and all she could make out was that he had the two-day stubble look that was so fashionable nowadays and heavily marked dark brows so his hair was probably dark too. It was difficult to say what age he was or what height, but he didn’t look very tall. How could he have got hold of the security code?

  Then she realised: the cleaner, of course. What was her name – Kayleigh? Well, she’d be looking for a new job tomorrow. She didn’t know who he was but with pictures like these someone else would, and he wasn’t wearing gloves either.

  He was getting impatient now, flipping over pages faster and faster and moving on to the next file. When he’d gone through the last one, evidently without finding what he was looking for, he brought his fists down on the desk in a gesture of rage, then froze as he listened for any reaction to the sound he had made. At last, satisfied that it was safe he stood up and gathered all the files together neatly. She could see his mouth moving − swearing under his breath, probably.

  He slotted them back into their places and shut the cabinet again. Marta tensed, waiting to see what he would do now; this might be the moment for the panic button after all. But he shook his head as if in frustration, then moved towards the door as Marta switched cameras to view the hall. If he made for the stairs …

  But he didn’t. In his stockinged feet, she noticed, he padded across to the hall to let himself out. One of the panels in front of her lit up as he reactivated the code before he left, presumably thinking that would conceal his intrusion. After a pause – as he put on his shoes? – the outside lights came on then went off a minute later. He had gone.

  There was a small, grim smile on Marta’s face as she went back to her bedroom. At least they had a reason to give Cassie for stepping up the security at Burnside.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was still dark when DC Kate Graham got up to hurry through her preparations for work and set out everything ready for her father’s carer. She was on the early shift and DCI Strang had phoned her the night before to tell her that an officer from Edinburgh had been seconded to Halliburgh CID on the suggestion of the District Commander, as a result of discussions after the county lines conference.

  ‘Well, that was a coincidence,’ she’d said brightly and he had cleared his throat.

  ‘Er, yes, in a manner of speaking. Anyway, she’s DC Livvy Murray. I’ve briefed her on our discussion and she knows that there’s someone who thinks there’s a problem but she doesn’t know it’s you and there’s no need for you to tell her. I’ve worked with her before and she’s young and very bright, if a bit headstrong – she might benefit from your sound common sense, if something came up.’

  Kate hadn’t been sure how much she liked being designated as the voice of common sense as opposed to young and very bright, but she’d said, ‘Yes, of course. I’ll take it as it comes.’

  ‘Thanks, Kate. I know I can rely on you. Keep me in the picture – you’ve got my number – and I’ll let you know if there are other developments.’

  Her father, sitting in his wheelchair by the fire in the big, comfortable sitting room, was ostensibly reading his newspaper but when she ended the call and said, ‘That was Kelso Strang,’ he raised one eyebrow.

  ‘Oh aye?’ he said.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Dad! That was a professional call to tell me a new DC is arriving tomorrow. Just like our meeting the other night was a professional one too.’ She was bitterly regretting telling him about it, especially when he said ‘Oh aye?’ again. She’d been painfully aware of Kelso’s discomfort when his sister was far too welcoming and his embarrassment when the regulars in his pub were far too interested; she had no illusions. After all, she was full of sound common sense, wasn’t she?

  And it was only common sense to be wary this morning. She was by nature a truthful person and she needed to work out her lines for the part she had to play ahead of time. She must be mildly surprised by the arrival of the new DC; she must be friendly to her as a newcomer but nothing more. And she’d have to be on the watch to see how Hammond and Wilson greeted the arrival of someone tasked with looking at the drugs situation in Halliburgh who might find out something that would mess up Hammond’s carefully constructed reputation for efficiency. She had butterflies in her stomach as she parked the car and went into the police station.

  But this morning there was something of a fuss going on. The previous night, apparently, had seen a knife fight between a couple of teenage boys and though it had fortunately been stopped with no more than surface damage, the boys, their parents and their briefs were all milling around demanding immediate attention from a harassed DS Wilson. There was no sign as yet of the new DC but with all this no one would even notice Kate’s efforts at amateur theatricals.

  It was bad news, though. She knew both boys by sight; they were in the bus shelter group she’d noticed before. Halliburgh had never been troubled by knife crime and this was unwelcome confirmation that the problems she’d guessed at were very real. Perhaps the new, young, very bright DC might be able to make sure it couldn’t be airbrushed out of existence for the sake of a clean reputation.

  Kayleigh Burns was feeling sick as she drove up to Highfield at seven o’clock. She was heavy-eyed from lack of sleep too, since she hadn’t been able to settle until Jason came back from his mission. And he’d been in a bad temper; he was tight-lipped, but it was clear things hadn’t gone the way he wanted. When she’d asked what had happened he’d given her a good swearing, but she’d persisted.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake! No one knew I was there, and I’ve reset the codes. All right? Now leave me alone.’

  She wasn’t sure she trusted him but the gate code worked and the door code too, and she let herself into the kitchen with a little ‘phew!’ of relief. There were no signs of any unusual activity overnight there or when she went through to Anna’s study to lay the fire.


  Kayleigh went back to the kitchen and then set the breakfast table in the little morning room that gave on to the garden. Last night’s snow had disappeared; it was raining now with a dreary determination and even though it looked as if Jason had been right, she was still twitching with nerves. Marta Morelli was scary at the best of times and Kayleigh gave a little shudder as she thought of what would happen if she somehow discovered what Jason had done.

  When she heard Marta’s footsteps on the stairs she busied herself running the tap and wiping the already immaculately clean sink with a cloth. Marta said, ‘Good morning,’ as she came in and Kayleigh had to bite her lip to keep her teeth from chattering.

  ‘Morning,’ she muttered over her shoulder, still wiping.

  ‘Kayleigh, I need you to help me with something when you’ve finished there.’

  Marta’s voice sounded pleasant enough, but this morning anything out of the ordinary was enough to make her knees tremble. ‘Yes, fine,’ she managed, and with one more swill around the sink she wrung out the cloth and turned, wiping her hands on her apron.

  Marta looked pained. ‘There is a towel for that, as you know.’

  ‘Oh yes. Sorry.’ She went across to the hook where it hung and dried her hands properly. That was standard for Marta, which reassured Kayleigh a little as she followed her out, across the hall and up the stairs. But when she stopped outside the flat door inset into the wall and took out a fob, Kayleigh could feel the blood draining from her face and her head felt light, like a balloon that could float away. She had never been inside, but she knew what that room contained.

  ‘Come in,’ Marta said and sat down herself at the desk in front of a screen. She pressed a button and there was Jason, sitting at Anna’s desk on Anna’s chair reading a piece of paper. One drawer of a filing cabinet was pulled out. Kayleigh gave a gasp of horror, swaying on her feet.