Devil's Garden

by Aline Templeton

  ‘Oh, useless girl, don’t faint!’ Marta’s voice wasn’t pleasant now. ‘There’s a seat there – sit down if you have to. Who is he?’

  For a wild moment she thought of saying she’d never seen him before in her life, but Marta seemed to have heard what she was thinking. ‘Don’t say something stupid. It’s plain how he got the codes to come in. Your boyfriend, is he?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Jason Jackson.’

  ‘Ah!’ His name seemed to mean something to her; maybe she’d seen it on the list of writers at the Hub. ‘And what did he want, when he broke into Ms Harper’s house?’

  She found her voice. ‘I don’t know! He didn’t tell me. And whatever it was, I don’t think he got it because he was angry when he came home.’

  ‘Yes,’ Marta said. ‘And why did you give him the codes?’

  She could be honest about that, at least. ‘I’m … I’m scared of him. He’s got a wicked temper when he’s crossed.’

  Strangely enough, Marta’s face softened a little. She even gave a little, humourless laugh. ‘The old story! Women never learn, do they?’

  Emboldened, Kayleigh went on, ‘I was beginning to think anyway that I’d had enough. He’s living in my flat and he’s not paying his way. And now I suppose he’s lost me my job and I don’t know what I’ll do.’ She sniffed, feeling the tears coming to her eyes.

  Marta paused, looking at her with a penetrating stare. Then she said slowly, ‘Maybe it is all right. You’re a good worker and I don’t want to have to look just now for someone else. I shall be telling the police and you will be required to tell what has happened. Don’t warn him. That is clear?’

  Kayleigh’s eyes widened. ‘Do you mean it? Oh, I’m not going to tip him off. He bloody dropped me right in it with this and I don’t owe him anything – he treats me like scum, anyway.’

  Marta stood up. ‘Then we can agree. Now, Ms Harper will be down soon looking for her breakfast so you can go and see everything is ready. I will talk to you about it later.’

  Kayleigh, with the alacrity of a rabbit that has, against the odds, escaped from a stoat, was halfway out of the door when Marta said, ‘Oh, by the way, what age is he?’

  ‘I’m not exactly sure, but he’s older than me. I’m thirty.’

  For some odd reason she got the impression that Marta was pleased, but she didn’t give it any more thought than that as she scurried downstairs breathing a prayer of thankfulness.

  DC Livvy Murray had never been to the Borders. She’d always had the impression that it was just countryside with fields and stuff, which was fine for people who liked that sort of thing but not worth giving up free time for when you could spend it in town where there was plenty to do.

  As far as she could see through the driving rain and the mud thrown up by the wheels of other vehicles, she’d been pretty much right. There were towns, of course – Peebles (wee grey place), Galashiels (wee grey place) and Selkirk (wee grey place). Halliburgh was another of the same; as she drove slowly along the high street past where the old police station had been and on to the outskirts where the new one had been built around ten years before, she felt depressed already. She’d be all right if she could commute but the forecast was getting more and more alarming about this new weather system coming in and she could end up sticking straws in her hair if she got snowed in down here.

  Still, what did the forecasters know? She’d checked last night and it hadn’t said anything about persistent rain and when she parked the car and hurried into the station it looked as if it was on for the day.

  It was a dismal-looking place, showing its age already with chipped paintwork and even a front door that had warped and resisted at the first attempt at pushing it open. Built on the cheap, no doubt, and no money for maintenance these days.

  There were quite a few people sitting around waiting in reception – a surprising number for such a small place, Murray thought. It looked like separate family groups, centred round a couple of youths looking sulky, and she eyed them with some interest, considering what Strang had told her about Halliburgh’s problems. When she reported at the desk asking for DS Wilson, she was told he was tied up and directed to the canteen to wait.

  With a cup of coffee in the corner, Murray had a good observation point as officers came and went for their breaks. She hadn’t really thought of herself as a spy until now, but she became uncomfortably aware that in a small place like this she was marked out as a stranger.

  The reactions were varied. Some smiled and said hello, some looked faintly wary and a couple introduced themselves. One of them, PS Colin Johnston, even told her what the current fuss was about.

  ‘Don’t know what got into them – young idiots!’ he said. ‘Nothing wrong with the families – they just see all this stuff about gangs in the media and then they send away for a knife “for protection” and this is what happens.’

  ‘If there’s knives, you might think drugs,’ Murray said. ‘Have you had any bother with the drugs coming out from the city? I’ve come from Edinburgh and that’s a big thing at the moment.’

  She sensed a withdrawal. ‘No, not much. We’re lucky here – quiet wee town, you know, and DI Hammond runs a tight ship. That pair’ll get twitched back into line easy enough.’ He got up. ‘Well, I’d better get back to the coalface. See you around.’

  He was heading towards the door just as it opened and a man in plain clothes came in. Murray did the usual observation check – mid forties, reddish hair, pale blue eyes, sharp-featured apart from a rather fleshy mouth. He was looking flustered. ‘Colin, get upstairs and start taking statements from the parents – keep them happy till I get back to speak to the lads. They’re getting restive and there’s another problem. There’s been a complaint about Jason Jackson and Steve wants me with him.’

  Johnston looked shocked. ‘Jason? What’s he done, for God’s sake?’

  ‘Only broken into Anna Harper’s house, the bampot. Caught on CCTV. We’ll see what we can do to smooth things over. It’s all we need. There’s a DC arrived from Edinburgh too—’

  Murray stood up. ‘That’s me, sir. DC Livvy Murray. Can I be of any help?’

  He looked at her with what she thought could only be described as revulsion. ‘Oh. I see. No, not right now. You’ll need someone to get you up to speed. Col, you arrange that first, right?’ He barely waited for the other man’s answer.

  ‘No problem.’ Johnston turned to Murray. ‘Sorry about that. Just a minor nuisance, but it’ll keep DS Wilson tied up. I’ll find a constable to show you round.’

  He was trying to sound offhand but she had no doubt that he was worried. Jason Jackson – a pal in trouble? She’d have to make it her business to find out who he was.

  She followed Johnston down a corridor and opened the door on to a room where there were three uniforms working at desks and terminals. ‘Ah, Kate – you’ll do,’ he said to a pleasant-looking woman Murray guessed was in her early thirties. He beckoned her out into the corridor. ‘This is PC Kate Graham, Livvy. Kate, DC Livvy Murray. She’s been seconded from Edinburgh.’

  ‘Oh! Goodness!’ Graham said. ‘Well, that’s nice. We can always do with a bit more manpower – well, womanpower, I suppose.’ She gave a nervous laugh.

  Murray had to smother a grin. It wasn’t hard to work out who Strang’s informant had been; the strain of pretending this was a surprise showed all over her honest face. Johnston didn’t notice, fortunately; he was moving away already saying, ‘Show her round, Kate. Fill her in on how we operate. OK?’

  ‘Yes of course, boss.’ Graham turned to Murray with an attempt at a welcoming smile that wavered slightly at the corners. ‘From – from Edinburgh, did he say? Had you a good drive down?’

  ‘Wet, but no problems.’ Murray was making a lightning calculation; she could let Graham struggle on, or she could say something she’d always wanted to say. With a quick glance up and down the empty corridor, she leant close
r and said, ‘Your secret is safe with me.’

  Graham’s face flared scarlet. ‘Oh! Did – did Kelso tell you?’

  ‘No,’ Murray said. ‘You did. You’re a hopeless liar.’

  Graham bit her lip. ‘I know,’ she said humbly. ‘I’m out of practice. My parents always caught me out and then I felt rotten at having deceived them, so I gave up. Honesty was easier.’

  ‘Well, I admire you for it, but it doesn’t make adult life any easier. If my mother caught me out, I got a good clattering and it made me an expert at making sure she didn’t. I can safely promise you that you can be sure I won’t dump you in it. It’s a bit of luck that you’ve been asked to give me the scenic tour. We can talk as we walk, then, and if there’s anyone tries to join us you can just say, “Oh, I forgot to show you the women’s toilet,” and then we can lose them and go back.’

  ‘I feel guilty that I wasn’t courageous enough to be a whistle-blower.’ Graham had begun to relax a little as they walked on. ‘But my dad’s frail and he needs me here and even if the top brass backed me, once people knew, I wouldn’t be able to stay. There are too many officers happy to go along with Hammond and Wilson, so—’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll make the waves if necessary. And it’s not only Strang that’s stirring it – DCS Borthwick’s pushing this too. And she’d be one scary lady to have on your case. She wants us to take another look at what happened to Felix Harper.’

  Graham was looking brighter every minute. ‘I’ve got good gen on that. Look, I’m due a break in ten minutes. I’ll whiz you round the rest of the station and fill you in on the personnel – oh, and that is the Ladies’, by the way – and I know a quiet caff where they do a good ham roll and we can talk properly.’

  ‘Done,’ Murray said, following her up the stairs. Strang might have thought she should have restrained her impulse to charge in, but it looked as if it was paying off. He had told her to use her initiative, after all.

  Marta Morelli sat down at the desk in the security room and pressed the button to play back the images of Jason Jackson’s activities the previous night while DI Hammond and DS Wilson stood beside her watching. Hammond’s face was professionally impassive but there was a little pulse beating at his temple and the other officer, the red-haired one, was scowling.

  ‘Of all the headbangers!’ he burst out at last. ‘Sorry, madam. But everyone knows you’ve got a lot of security – he can’t have expected to get away with it.’

  Hammond quelled his sergeant with a glance. When he spoke, he was much more measured. ‘Do you know what he was hoping to find?’

  ‘I?’ Marta shrugged. ‘I don’t know – something he could sell to the gutter press? I can assure you he won’t have found anything. But we have been deeply threatened by this. He is someone who may be planning to harm Anna. He would not be the first.’

  ‘Do you know him, Ms Morelli? I believe he has one of the places on the Writers’ Week at the Foundation.’

  ‘Not by sight, though I knew who he is. We always try to help local people, as you know, and Ms Harper knew that he had little success with his first book so she wanted to help him. This was a mistake, perhaps.’

  ‘Was this how he managed to get into the house?’

  Marta shook her head. ‘No. It was the girlfriend. Kayleigh Burns. She is our cleaner, so she has to have the codes to get in. She told me who this was and she is ready to talk to you. I think this man is a bad person, Inspector, and I want you to treat this very seriously.’

  ‘Of course,’ Hammond said. ‘Do we go downstairs?’

  ‘Along the gallery to the sitting room.’

  As Marta waited to close the door, Wilson paused. ‘Since he didn’t actually do any harm,’ he said, ‘maybe we could just have a strong word with him—’

  She gave him a blistering stare and he stopped almost in mid word.

  With the overcast sky and rain beating on the windows, the room was flooded with cold grey light. Sitting on one of the oversized white sofas, Kayleigh Burns looked very small and scared. She stood up as they came in.

  Waving the officers to the chairs opposite, Marta nodded to Kayleigh to sit down again and sat beside her. The woman was unconsciously twisting her hands as she glanced at the detectives.

  ‘Tell the police, Kayleigh,’ Marta prompted.

  She licked her lips. ‘Well, you know he’s my boyfriend. On Saturday night after I saw you in the pub’ – she gestured at Wilson – ‘he came home with me and he said I’d to give him the codes to get in here.’

  ‘And it didn’t occur to you that perhaps you should say no?’ Hammond’s voice was stern.

  ‘It did!’ she protested. ‘I told him I wouldn’t. But he was angry and I was scared.’

  ‘Scared? What of?’ Wilson asked, a sneer in his voice.

  Kayleigh glared at him. ‘He’s hit me before and I didn’t want him to hit me again. All right?’ Wilson subsided.

  ‘Tell the policemen what he did then, Kayleigh,’ Marta prompted. It had taken her a while to get the full story out of the girl and she was determined that the police should hear it.

  She hung her head. ‘He said he would give me money. Quite a lot.’

  Marta waited for the officers to ask where he had got it from, but when they didn’t, she asked the question herself.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Kayleigh said. ‘He told me it was a lucky win gambling, but I didn’t believe him. There’s people he hangs around with I don’t like. And I’m worried about my boy – his mates have too much money as well. Where are they getting it from, that’s what I want to know?’ She was losing her nervousness. ‘What are you going to do about it, now I’ve told you?’

  Hammond sighed. ‘I can see that you’re worried, Kayleigh. Needlessly, I think, because we do keep an eagle eye on that sort of thing – believe me, we know it’s everywhere nowadays, but we won’t let it take root here. But is there anything you can tell us that would link Jason to it?’

  ‘Just … what I’ve told you.’

  ‘And why do you think he wanted to break into the house, anyway?’

  ‘I don’t know! He’s just obsessed with Ms Harper – blames her for his book not selling. He really hates her.’

  Marta stiffened. ‘You hear what she says, Inspector? This is a man who found his way right into our home last night, a man who has a grudge against Ms Harper. What do you know about him?’

  DS Wilson bristled. ‘We’re asking the questions …’ he began but again Hammond cut in. ‘He frequents our local, but he hasn’t come our way professionally, madam. I would say this is just a sort of stupid stunt—’

  Marta’s eyebrows arched almost to her hairline. ‘Would you? I am sorry, I would not, and Ms Harper has been very upset. And the other thing you should be looking at is the source of this man’s money. If it was a bet you can find out who made it. If it was not, you would be asking yourself about drugs, would you not?’

  There was a glance between the two men. Then Hammond said, ‘We’re very conscious, of course, of the recent tragedy with Felix Trentham—’

  ‘Yes, you would be, I think. So you are doing – what?’

  Kayleigh shifted uneasily in her seat, as if aware that the temperature in the room had dropped to something well south of zero. Wilson was visibly twitching and even Hammond looked ruffled.

  ‘We couldn’t find any witnesses, madam, and with Mr Trentham’s known problems there was nothing to suggest anything other than that he took the overdose himself.’

  ‘Poor Felix,’ Marta said. She paused for a moment as if she was weighing something up, then she drew a deep breath. ‘He would be likely to, you see, if someone offered it to him. Deliberately, perhaps. And his sister too – almost killed in an accident by a car that did not stop. Then this man with a grudge – this man who breaks into Ms Harper’s house. We must ask ourselves why all these things have happened, must we not?’

  This was a high-risk strategy but it was worth it to see the effect on the
officers. Wilson seemed too shocked to speak and even though Hammond managed to sound calm, he was obviously on the defensive.

  ‘I hear what you say, Ms Morelli, and of course we will look into all of that. I’ve taken it upon myself to head the investigation into Ms Trentham’s accident – the bicycle will be undergoing forensic testing as we speak, though in all honesty I’m not sure it will tell us much. I’ve spoken to her, of course, and she was unable to help me.

  ‘As far as the drugs situation is concerned, we are on top of the problem, as I said. We even have a new officer specially charged with increasing our vigilance—’

  ‘That is good,’ Marta said. ‘She can come to speak to me. At once. To reassure me and Ms Harper that though you did not see it before, you now see that this is very serious. And that this man is not free to have a vendetta because he is not such a good writer.’ She got up. ‘That is excellent. Thank you very much, Inspector Hammond and Sergeant Wilson.’

  Wilson barely waited till the front door was shut behind them before he burst out, ‘Why did you let that old bat from hell run off at the mouth like that? Why didn’t you tell her we make the decisions? You won’t actually do any of that, will you?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Hammond said as they got into the car and drove off. ‘I’m going to make sure she sees we’re doing stuff. It won’t have much effect, but it will keep her happy.’

  ‘And we care – why?’

  ‘We care, Dumbo, because the District Commissioner likes getting asked to receptions there and meeting people he’s read about in the papers and coming away with a fat cheque for the benevolent fund. And he thinks I’m walking on water and I want him to keep thinking that way.’

  ‘So what happens about Jason?’

  ‘He apologises profusely. He proves he couldn’t have knocked down Cassie Trentham and that he wouldn’t even know where to find dope for Felix.’

  Wilson sniggered. ‘And he’ll do that – how?’

  ‘Oh, he’ll do that. Trust me. Meantime, you have to brief the woman from Edinburgh. What’s she like?’