by David Wilson
‘I paid a quick visit to McAree’s this afternoon too, no one has a better selection of hats in the city and I got this coat there as well. If we’re going to be detectives then we need to look the part.’ He reached into his bag again. ‘I got you these sunglasses and a Paisley headscarf so you can be disguised as well.’
He handed them to her and she turned them over in her hands. ‘It’s going to be dark soon. How am I supposed to carry out surveillance when I can’t see anything? And as for this scarf … well.’
‘OK then don’t wear them, but don’t come running to me when you’ve been made.’
Abigail’s eyebrow raised again. ‘When I’ve been made?’
‘Page 142, in the glossary. I would suggest you keep the book and look it up so you don’t stand out like a sore thumb!’ He very deliberately pulled up the collar of his coat, ‘Shall we go?’ Abigail shook her head as she drove the library van down the road and turned left at the bottom.
After driving the long way around, they pulled up and parked just over and a little up the road from Milton Scott’s house. Alasdair slouched down into the passenger seat stretching his legs out into the footwell. ‘Isn’t this exciting Abby? I can’t believe we’re actually on a stake-out now.’ Abigail sat upright in the driver’s seat, her legs cramped behind the pedals.
‘I can’t believe it either – so this is us being incognito is it?’
‘Indeed it is. Who’s going to suspect the mobile library van?’
‘Oh yes,’ Abigail replied, ‘I mean a twenty-foot-long van sat in the street is just the kind of thing that makes us invisible. What are we looking for exactly anyway?’
Alasdair shrugged. ‘Not sure yet but I have a feeling we’ll know it when we see it.’ He picked up his backpack from the storage area behind his seat and rifled through it. ‘I’ve got some supplies to keep us going. Here we are.’ Abigail watched as he placed on the dashboard a red thermos flask containing hot tea, two blue plastic mugs, a box containing some sandwiches and two of what looked to be fudge doughnuts.
‘What’s in the sandwiches?’ she asked.
‘Corned beef. I wanted to try and keep it quite authentic and I think the old private eyes would have liked a bit of corned beef.’
‘I always thought they would have bagels or something like that, and coffee? I think we have a very British stake-out menu here.’ She glanced over to the big house opposite, ‘He’s got a nice house. There’s obviously money in the internet.’
Alasdair puffed out his cheeks. ‘Money in crime more like it, he’s probably got my slippers and stripped them down and sold them for parts.’
‘Who’s he going to have sold them to?’ she asked, ‘Timpson’s? I would think he’ll have better things to do, if he had anything to do with it in the first place! This seems daft wasting our time with this.’ She glanced at Alasdair who was just staring intently at the house, ‘Still we’re here now so we might as well see what we can …’ She stopped suddenly as there was a loud knock at the main door in the back of the van where the library section was located. They looked at each other, startled for a moment, before Abigail motioned Alasdair through the door behind the seats and they crept quietly passed the bookshelves towards the sound of the knocking.
‘Hello? Anyone in there?’ An elderly woman’s voice drifted through the closed door.
‘What do we do now Abby?’ Alasdair whispered. ‘Should we pretend not to be in?’
‘She’s probably heard us moving around already or maybe talking at the front. Let me deal with it and I’ll see what she wants.’ Alasdair slinked back behind a bookshelf as Abigail walked over and pushed open the door to see a grey-haired woman smiling back at her. ‘Can I help you?’ Before Abigail could stop her the woman smiled and clambered up the two small steps into the van.
‘Well, yes. I missed you when you were round earlier you see so when I noticed you were back again I thought I would come and get some books out. It’s not usual that you come round again in the evening is it? I thought it was a bit odd.’ Abigail flashed a quick glance towards Alasdair who held out his palms, his face slightly panicked, before turning back to the old woman.
‘Erm … it’s a new service we’re providing – for speed readers.’ The woman looked confused. ‘Yes, we’ve had reports of speed readers in the area and, well, you know those people, they can read a book in a couple of hours so imagine how many they can get through in a day! Working in the council, we need to cater for everyone you know so here we are again’ Remarkably, the old woman seemed to be buying into this.
‘I suppose you do, I never gave it a thought. But then you have large print books for those with bad sight and the books on tape too so why not do something for these, speed readers is it? It’s such an inclusive world we live in now isn’t it?’
Abigail nodded. ‘Yes. So we better clear the library area here – they come in at quite a pace to browse as well you know. We have to secure the books into the shelves.’
The woman looked startled. ‘Really? I thought that was to stop them falling out when you’re driving the van around?’
‘Oh, lots of people think that but we know the real reason now don’t we? Now, off you go before you get caught in the whirlwind.’ Abigail cajoled the woman back out of the door and down onto the street. ‘Thanks for coming and we’ll be back at our usual time next week.’ She closed the door and then flopped into a moulded plastic chair. Alasdair came out from behind the shelves, laughing and clapping his hands.
‘Well done Abby! I’ve never heard such a lot of nonsense but that was quick thinking – you’re definitely cut out for this game, coming up with a cover story like that.’ Abigail just looked up at him, nothing more to say for the moment, but feeling quite exhilarated by what she had just done. There might be some life in this old dog yet. Alasdair was climbing back in to the front cab.
‘Come on Abby, you deserve a sandwich for that!’
Chapter Twenty-Four
The corned beef sandwiches slowly dwindled as the evening wore on into early morning. They chatted back and forth on a variety of subjects; families, the economy, the fact that common sense was being evolved out of the species. A fact which they noted was particularly prevalent where padding had been placed around lamp posts to stop people who were using their mobile phones from hurting themselves when they walked into them. Thankfully these pockets of common senseless were few and far between and certainly had not infiltrated Stirling so far. Perhaps having a university of some note was helpful with this they thought.
They watched the windows and doors, gardens and grounds of Milton Scott’s house but nothing seemed to stir. A few of the windows had blinked into darkness, like eyes closing, as the night had passed but a few lights still remained. ‘I wonder how much energy they use in that house,’ Alasdair said thoughtfully. ‘I bet they could use a bit of my Green Light philosophy, maybe even to go the whole hog and get a wind turbine, something like that.’
‘They might already be doing things like that – you tend to find people in his position want to be seen to be taking the lead. Anyway, how’s your green movement going – embraced all of the things on your list yet?’ He hesitated, although a faint flicker of a smile crept over his mouth.
‘I’m not so sure that I need to go too mad with all that stuff you know. I can offset a huge part of my carbon footprint in one fell swoop and it will hardly cost me anything at all to do it, and certainly it won’t mean giving up my trips abroad.’
Abigail sighed. ‘I thought you’d given up all this offsetting nonsense, isn’t this just like the light-bulbs again?’ He shook his head vigorously.
‘Absolutely not. Abby, this is a stroke of genius which has to be seen to be believed. Clearly you need to have vision but thankfully I’m more than blessed there and I was delighted to see that the boffins had come up with a solution.’ He slowly, but not without a little flourish, produced an A4 size pamphlet from his backpack and laid it on the steering wheel in front
of Abigail. Abigail leaned over and read the title, ‘Eco Cemeteries’, and then underneath was the tagline, ‘Saving the world from the beyond’. Abigail sat back in her seat and just stared at him.
‘Oh my God, what on earth is this?’
Alasdair was clearly thrilled. ‘It’s genius, Abby. This company is set up for people just like me who want to offset their carbon emissions. What they have is a cemetery and each grave is linked up to a collection chamber. When you’re buried, the coffin is linked up by a pipe and as your body decays naturally, the gases which are emitted are collected and then burned off to create power. It’s incredible! It means that you don’t have to worry about your carbon footprint while you’re alive as it’s all offset after you’ve gone. What do you think?’ He sat back waiting for the admiration to begin, and was somewhat surprised when it didn’t materialise.
‘Well, I think that’s fabulous Alasdair. I mean why don’t we just all do that, we can do whatever we like while we’re alive and then let it all be made right when we’ve gone.’
He looked taken aback. ‘But … I don’t think you understand.’
‘Oh, I understand alright. This is designed for people who want to go through life without a thought for the environment or future generations. This is just typical of the world today – we want to be responsible but no one is willing to make the sacrifices necessary. It’s shocking and I can’t believe you’re considering that this is a good idea! What would be a great idea is if everyone played their part now and then this could be an added bonus later.’
Alasdair looked a little unsure, as Abigail flicked through the brochure. ‘Not to mention the fact that it says in the small print here that it would take around a hundred people to compensate for one short flight between Edinburgh and London. Look, just under where they tell you the price is eight thousand pounds to do this.’ Alasdair looked intently at their surveillance target trying to ride this out, but Abigail continued. ‘And have you seen this bit?’ She held open the pamphlet on a page with diagrams of how it all worked; a small black-line diagram in which curly lines seemed to be flowing up a chimney which in turn was linked to a turbine generating power, and further down the line a family happily cooking their dinner on a cooker running from the energy provided. Alasdair took the brochure and looked down at it.
‘Hadn’t really looked at it that closely,’ he admitted. ‘You might be right but I’m not going to rule it out just yet.’ He stuffed the pamphlet into his backpack for future consideration as Abigail gazed out of the side window.
‘Oh, Alasdair. There isn’t a quick fix with these things you know, you just have to put the work in.’
‘Look Abigail …’
She turned towards him. ‘You can’t defend this Alasdair.’
He pointed towards the large house. ‘No, look!’ Abigail stared out towards the road where Alasdair was pointing and saw the small white van coming towards them, its indicator blinking to show it was turning into Milton Scott’s driveway.
‘Oh my God, Castle Roofing! It’s them. I have to say I’m quite impressed that even the criminal fraternity think to indicate; you would have thought they wouldn’t bother. It’s OK to burgle a house but don’t forget your highway code!’
‘I knew he was involved in this, I knew it. I told you and Sophie but no one would believe me. They look like they’re going around the back – we should call the police!’ He reached for his phone but Abigail clamped her hand over his, trapping it in his pocket.
‘What exactly would we tell them? Apart from anything else I could lose my job for taking the library van without permission and I’m sure it won’t go down well that we’re carrying out unauthorised surveillance on someone’s house. We’ll probably be arrested for loitering and car theft!’
Alasdair wasn’t to be swayed. ‘We need to do something Abby, this could be something big.’
‘It might be but here’s another thought – what if they’re actually going to his house to burgle it now? With his valuable collection he’d be a prime target.’
Alasdair bit his lip. ‘Bloody hell Abby, you could be right. We need to do something though, we can’t just sit here, otherwise we might as well have stayed at home.’ Abigail reached over into the glovebox, rifling through the contents and producing a black rubberised torch.
‘Look at the side of his garden wall; there’s a path going up the side that cuts through to the street behind. We could sneak up there and try to look over his wall and see if we can see what’s going on. If we see them coming out with a bag of stuff then we can call the police and report the burglary anonymously or else we might see if they’ve been invited inside and find out if Milton Scott is involved.’
‘Brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that?’ he said as he opened the door. ‘Let’s go.’ They both jumped out of the van and ran, or as much like running as they could manage, over the road and onto the path up the side of Milton Scott’s property. Abigail looked back and noticed Alasdair lagging behind,
‘Come on Alasdair,’ she shouted back in a whisper, ‘keep up!’
‘I’ve got a bad back, I’m not bent over like this for speed you know!’ Abigail stopped a little further on and surveyed the wall. It was six feet high and covered in moss, with a rounded top; not easy to get at to see over the top of it. Alasdair came wheezing up next to her.
‘Oh God, I’m going to be laid-up for a week after this. How are we going to see what’s going on? I could crouch down and you could stand on my back to look over?’
‘Yep, I can see that working Alasdair, the state your back’s in. I’ll get down on my hands and knees and you look over the wall.’ She got down on the ground ready for Alasdair to do his bit but he hesitated. ‘Come on Alasdair, we’ll miss it!’
‘Oh Abby, it doesn’t seem right. I can’t possibly …’
Abigail glared round at him. ‘It doesn’t seem right that I’m having to put my hands in this mud but I’m doing it, now please get up there.’ Alasdair stepped gingerly up on her back, one foot on her coccyx and the other on her shoulders to spread his weight, and slowly peered over the top of the wall. ‘Are you OK there Abby?’
Abigail braced herself against his weight. ‘Fine, but you’re having skinny lattes from now on. What can you see?’ Alasdair stared intently towards the house whose rear was not quite as grand and imposing as the front. Typical, he thought, all show and bluster at the front but just normal once you get past the façade. The light was on in the kitchen window, just next to the back door, and he could see people moving around inside.
‘I can see them but I don’t know what’s going on. Terrible kitchen though, one of those modern stainless steel affairs; I’ve always said they shouldn’t be allowed to put those in period houses.’
Abigail was straining under his weight. ‘I’ll alert the editor at Homes and Garden magazine, now what are they doing?’ Through the kitchen window he could see two men sitting at a centre island. They both had blue overalls on and seemed to be talking to someone that Alasdair couldn’t see.
‘They’re definitely invited guests; they’re having coffee I think, not robbing him anyway. Hang on,’ he leaned over to try and see more clearly. ‘Oh my God Abby, he’s there, I can see Milton, he’s giving them something but I can’t see what it is.’
‘That would seem to be fairly damning then, what else?’
‘Just talking I think. Oh hell!’ He jumped down, breathing heavily. ‘I think they might have seen me. Milton turned and looked out of the window right in this direction.’
Abigail got up and wiped her hands on her trousers. ‘He won’t have seen you, not looking from a lit room out into the dark, I’m pretty sure of it. We should go anyway, we’ve got what we needed. It seems clear that they know each other and maybe he was paying them for their work?’ They started walking back down the pathway towards the van.
‘I bet that’s it, payment for their ill-gotten gains. We’re going to have to report this to the police.’
/> ‘I told you we can’t! We’ll end up in a lot of trouble if we do that given how we got the information. No, if we’re going to get him caught we’re going to have to be a little bit cleverer than that.’ They climbed into the van and Abigail started the engine, pulling off from the roadside. ‘I’ll drop you off at home and then I’m getting the van back to the library before anyone finds out about this. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Abigail woke at seven thirty the next morning despite having had only four hours sleep, but the adrenalin was still coursing through her veins. She had been having a strange dream that she was back at her school disco but the music had been speeded up, as if someone was playing old thirty-three-speed records at the seventy-eight setting on the record player.
The sun was pushing its way into the room through a crack in the curtains, and the birds chirping outside suggested another fine day ahead. Last night, she had come home and gone straight upstairs before undressing and throwing her clothes over the old armchair in her bedroom and flopping into bed. Now, looking at her jacket on the arm of the chair she could see two muddy imprints from a pair of size eight boots. I can’t believe we did that last night, she thought as she put on her dressing gown, we must have been mad. But it did get us some information and I’ve got to hand it to Alasdair; his feelings about Milton Scott were borne out, which just shows he’s not as barmy as I sometimes think. I’m surprised he hasn’t called yet, he must be turning cartwheels at home, not to mention Sophie who’ll be wondering how on earth he’s ended up involved in this now.
Emma was pottering about in the kitchen when Abigail came in for breakfast. ‘Morning Abigail, you’re up early. I wasn’t expecting you for hours yet. How did it go last night?’ Abigail relayed the story of their surveillance expedition as Emma gradually stopped what she was doing and became more engrossed in the story until she was sitting at the table opposite Abigail hanging on to every detail. ‘Bloody hell, that’s incredible. What did the police say about it?’
