by V Clifford
‘Okay, I’ll have another go in the archive but if there’s no luck we’ll have to think of other places in the house. There can’t be that many safe places to hide parchments. We could make a list of potential hot spots then I’ll ask Mrs Smith if I can take a look around. She and I are like this.’ She crossed her fingers to show him exactly how close they were.
‘You are kidding me right?’
‘Well I think she’s warmed to me since I’ve been sympathetic to her darling Sholto.’
‘Actually that reminds me. The people close to Sholto who might have wanted David dead are also finite. We could make a list of them too.’
‘Coulson will have already done that. No point in us doing doublers. Let’s stick to the Knights of Malta, and the parchment, see how they tie in with David’s death.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that. The priest in Edinburgh with the mock cardinal’s outfit had to be set up. There wasn’t enough blood at the scene for him to have been killed there. So wherever he was killed he was probably also manoeuvred into that frock. It has to be about humiliating him for some reason. If we find that we’ll be on our way to his killer.’
‘D’you think the eight-pointed cross was just overkill? Or a sign? I snooped around the cathedral’s website and a few emails came up from the Knights of Malta. But at a guess, we’d be hard pushed not to find correspondence from them in most Catholic cathedrals. They have got a wealthy and generous following.’
‘You want to grab something to eat in the village? If we’re quick we’ll still get fish and chips at the Coach and Horses.’ His phone rang. He stood and strolled through to the hall.
As he went she said, ‘Want me to ring ahead?’
He shook his head then took the call.
He returned. ‘Well, we don’t have any more work to do on the cardinal.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Because he definitely isn’t one. They don’t need us on a plain old murder.’
‘But what about the cross?’
‘The boss said he’s handing it over. Not our concern.’
‘I suppose we’re not short of things to occupy us, but I think the key-ring, the cross on that guys slippers and then a dead body holding the same thing is too much for me to dismiss.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m hungry.’ He swung his jacket off the back of the chair. ‘Come on. We could do with a walk and we can take Mollie with us; she’s allowed in the bar.’ Mac was much better at compartmentalising than she was, and once she’d started something it was difficult for her to let it go, but she had to learn to get better at that. Ruddy had warned her that there would be times when they didn’t get the results they’d hoped for. She had to find ways of totting things up to experience. No information or research was wasted. If you didn’t get to use it immediately you would always have it locked into your memory for it to surface when you next needed it.
***
The main street was dead, nobody walking about, no traffic, it was unnatural. Edinburgh was becoming like other metropolitan centres that were open twenty-four-seven, with people in the streets at all times. What were people doing here? When Mac pushed open the door of the pub the few drinkers at the bar fell silent and stared at the strangers daring to cross the threshold.
The woman behind the bar smiled. ‘You looking for food?’
Mac nodded. ‘Nothing fancy but yeah, if that’s possible.’
‘I’ll check with the chef.’
She returned. ‘Yes, take a seat and I’ll get you menus.’
When she brought them she stroked Mollie’s head. ‘She’s cute. Dr Chapman’s dog is it?’
Mac said, ‘Yes.’
Viv looked down at the dog but said, ‘Is she familiar with the Coach and Horses?’ Trying to be upbeat but instead sounding desperate.
‘Aye, Dr Chapman was a regular. Quite a fan of the quiz.’
This was news to Mac and Viv.
Mac said, ‘I bet she was a winner.’
‘Aye, she was that. Davie there . . .’ she pointed to a tall man covered in impressive tattoos at the bar. ‘He was always on her team.’
Viv stared at him. She thought she recognised him from the memorial service. She was surprised when he raised his glass to her. She gave the slightest nod back then focused on Mollie.
Mac ordered fish and chips for two, a half of Guinness for himself and a cider for her.
She whispered, ‘Thanks. I feel like I’ve got horns. I had no idea how involved Sal was with the community up here. I assumed she just slept here, walked the dog and went to work. How could I have got her so badly wrong?’
‘People change when someone comes into their life. She wouldn’t do the same things with you that she did on her own.’
‘But how do you know she was on her own? Two women have already approached me specifically to say they knew her. Even Coulson appears to have been a pal of Sal.’
Mac clinked his glass against hers. ‘What would she have wanted us to do?’
She swallowed. ‘That’s just it. I didn’t know her well enough to say. Did you know she was having a workroom built for me?’
‘No. Where?’
‘At the end of the garden behind where the high hedge is.’
‘But that’s a really steep slope down to the river bank.’
‘Exactly. She had Brian build it into the bank. It’s embarrassing. I had no idea what her plans were but she certainly had them and didn’t consult me.’
‘Never look a gift horse and all that.’
‘But it isn’t right. The house, the land, the workroom, it’s overwhelming. I’m a pretty simple person. I don’t have extravagant, complicated needs.’
He snorted. ‘Maybe not material needs but no one would ever say that you’re not complicated.’
‘I’m not. I’m weirded out by the thought of all this stuff.’
‘Well, all I can say is I knew her. She lived a good life. Too short, but good. She’d want us to carry on doing our work, solving crimes. Bringing people to justice. And for you to enjoy what’s here. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Just live with it for a bit then decide.’
Their food arrived and kept them quiet for the next few minutes.
The woman from the bar brought them another two drinks. ‘They’re fae Davie.’
They both raised their glasses to him then continued to eat. The silence now more awkward than it had been but food adequately filling the gap. Before they’d finished eating the sound on the TV was put up and a football commentator’s voice filled the room. A few more people came into the bar obviously for the purpose of watching the game. There was something about watching a match in a group that far outstripped watching on your lonesome at home. Shouting at the screen took on a whole new meaning in public.
As they walked back along the main street Mac said, ‘Look around, this is your new stomping ground. An hour from Edinburgh, but a new world. I love it.’
‘You think I’ll get used to strangers buying me drinks in a country pub?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, the important thing is to let them. He now feels like he’s your ally. Which, in a small way he is. He’s just paying his respects to Sal. You’ll probably never see him again unless you start going to the pub quiz.’
She snorted.
‘Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. I rarely get time to go but when I do it’s fun, a way to get to know folk . . . I bet that gamekeeper was a regular in there. Too long a walk for him now since he’s lost his licence.’
For a moment she had to think who he meant, but when she remembered. ‘Arse. Hope she doesn’t go back. Too many women can’t find a way out.’
‘I’ve got people on the look-out for him. He doesn’t seem to be moving from the Hamilton estate. I think she’s safe.’
‘Safe, but homeless. Poor kids always caught in the crossfire.’
They took Mollie for a trot round the River park then Mac took off to his cottage up the hill. She was hyped a
nd decided to have another session with Pamela’s emails and social media.
Chapter Twenty
She slept like the dead. Mollie had started off lying at her feet but had worked her way up the bed until they were lying back to back, Mollie with the biggest portion of the bed. Viv swung her arm over the dog’s back and stroked her belly. The dog edged onto her back and stretched, seeming not to have a care in the world. As soon as Viv pulled back the duvet and swung her legs over the bed the dog was up and birling. The great thing about dogs, they were all or nothing in a heartbeat.
Once Viv had brushed her teeth she pulled on joggers and a tee, then took off at a slow and steady pace along the river and through the woods. Paths carved into the hillside by deer made the woods possible but she still had a bit of ducking and diving to do to avoid getting caught up in low branches. With every step damp organic soil discharged a blast of decaying leaves. Old disused pheasant feeders lay here and there toppled by fallen branches or pushed by kids who’d come to make a gang hut. The occasional discarded plastic bottle with a ubiquitous Irn Bru label the giveaway of youths. At the top of the hill she cleared the trees and jogged on the spot. The clouds parted to reveal the view of Ben Ledi. No wonder the ancients were in awe of the landscape. It couldn’t be this majestic for no reason. Mollie circled her legs. Time to return up the back drive and loop to the cottage over the quarry park. She was becoming familiar with the names of the fields since Sal had an estate map up on the bathroom wall. When she sat on the throne there was no way to avoid it. Everyone needs reading matter.
Her search the night before had given her another avenue to check. Once showered and with coffee coursing her veins she was in the mood for action. Mollie on the other hand had already curled up in her bed content to go back to sleep.
‘It’s a dog’s life.’
Mollie’s eyebrows moved but the rest of her did not. Viv crouched and stroked her soft coat. ‘I think this thing with you and I might just work.’
The dog nudged her head onto Viv’s hand, demanding another stroke. Viv conceded then stood and stretched. ‘As much as I’d like to stay here all day and commune with you there’s work to be done.’
She threw her rucksack into the Rav and drove through the village then onto the back road that circumnavigated the Percy property. She slowed at the entrance gates to the Hall but didn’t go through them. She carried on following the boundary wall for a couple of miles until she came to another set of grand gates on the opposite side of the road. The Hamilton estate also had beautiful parkland with specimen trees hemmed in by new wooden post and rail fencing. Horses in brightly coloured blankets grazed. She didn’t know one end of a horse from the other but that hadn’t deterred her penchant for equestrian clothes. She glanced at what she was wearing and acknowledged that she’d definitely feel at home in an equine yard, if the kit was all that was required.
The Rav’s tyres crunched over newly raked gravel and stopped outside the house, a large classical building more pleasing in proportions than the Hall. Wide stone steps led up to a portico with pillars. She rang the bell and waited. Seconds later footsteps echoed behind the wooden door. When it swung back she was surprised to see Hugo. No staff.
The look on his face implied that he was as surprised to see her as she to see him.
‘Ah, Miss . . .’
She stuck out her hand. ‘Doctor Fraser. Viv. We met at Sholto’s the other night.’
‘Ah, yes the detective’s partner.’ The hint of condescension in his tone didn’t endear him to her.
‘I wondered if I might have a word with Pamela?’
‘You might but she isn’t here. You’ll probably find her at the stables. She’s there more hours of the day than is good for her.’
Viv must have conveyed the right amount of intrigue because he continued.
‘She spends more time with those horses than she’d ever spend with humans. With the exception of . . .’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘She’s pissing our inheritance into the wind with her extravagance.’ He put his hands into his pockets and stretched his back. ‘Do you know that the cost of giving a horse a manicure is eighty quid? Eighty quid, once a month for only one horse and that’s with a discount for multiples. At the last count she had more than a dozen. She “rescues” them.’
Viv was about to say there were worse things to spend money on when the look on his face changed as if day had turned to night.
‘The feed bill is astronomical . . .’
She’d obviously caught him at a bad moment. ‘Shall I head over there?’
He drew in a huge breath and straightened himself up. ‘If she isn’t there she’ll have gone to see Sholto, but the horses come first.’
‘Thanks for your time.’ He closed the door and she trotted down the steps and into the Rav. Was he over-sharing? Sibling rivalry took all forms. Hugo was clearly worried about the family dosh being depleted. She glanced toward the stables whose footprint was almost as big as the house’s. He wasn’t about to hit the poverty line any time soon. She drove to the entrance to the stables, left the Rav outside and wandered in through an archway that opened onto a cobbled courtyard. Half a dozen stalls had horses heads draped over the door with nets filled with feed dangling on the outside. In the far corner a solid wooden door stood ajar. She headed in that direction but not before stopping to stroke the nose of a beautiful black horse with a small diamond of white just below its eyes. It wasn’t interested. Food was all it had on its mind.
She tapped on the door. ‘Hello! Hi, anyone around?’ She pushed the door and stepped into a large stone-floored room with a couple of large desks stacked with paperwork. Calendars surrounded by coloured rosettes hung on the walls. Straw and the smell of horses clung to everything; blankets, tack, brushes and anything else to improve the life of equine companions. Hugo was right; the horsey world was not for the poor. There were windows facing away from the courtyard onto the surrounding fields. She spotted the edge of a Land Rover that looked familiar. She had to stretch to check the bumper and sure enough there was the same sticker that she’d noticed on the bumper of the Land Rover belonging to or driven by the gamekeeper. Mac said he’d lost his licence but that didn’t apply on private land. He could still be driving around.
She had a look at a couple of papers on one of the desks. Eye-watering amounts going out for vet’s bills. Invoices for feed equally eye-watering. If Hugo thought the farrier’s bill was bad he should take a look at these. She nudged the desk and the computer screen exploded into life. A photograph of Pamela with a man, could be the gamekeeper, with his arm on her shoulder and a horse, maybe the one she’d just tried to commune with, filled the screen. The massive, beautiful, glossy beast stared straight into the camera lens. No wonder feed bills were high. She was stretching to get to the mouse when she heard a noise behind her.
She spun round just as a man was about to hit her with a spade. She dodged the blow, which cracked the side of the desk and sent paperwork and stationery scattering across the floor.
He raised the spade again. ‘Who the hell are you? And what do you think you’re doing poking around in here?’
She positioned herself behind the desk. ‘My name is Viv Fraser and I’ve come to see Pamela.’
‘You mean Lady Hamilton.’
Viv said, ‘Lord Percy has employed me.’ She stared at his swarthy face. His broad shoulders, thick neck and calloused fingers, signs he’d never worked a day indoors in his life.
He interrupted her, ‘Ah, I know who you are. You have no business in here.’ He stepped to the side of the desk as if he was coming for her again. She kept moving out of his reach. But he shoved the desk and tried to pin her to the wall. She reached into her pocket.
‘Don’t try phoning anyone.’
Phoning was not what she had in mind but now that he’d mentioned it, she put pressure on the emergency fast dial key with the heel of her hand. Fingers crossed.
‘Don’t you think you’re over-reacting?�
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He lunged at her again with the spade raised. She parried and managed to dodge another blow. She glanced around and grabbed a piece of tack, a heavy leather strap with a brass buckle on it. Thank God the place was a shambles. She swung it and clipped the side of his face.
He squealed. Then through gritted teeth, he yelled, ‘You bitch.’
‘Bitch. I’ll show you bitch.’ She rocked onto the balls of her feet her adrenalin pumping. She swung the tack again but this time he used the spade to deflect it. He moved behind the desk. She copied what he’d done and shoved it. She kept shoving until he stumbled and dropped the spade. The clatter of metal hitting the flagstone floors echoed in the room. She raced round the desk and kicked the spade out of his reach. But he jumped to his feet and grabbed her hair. He yanked her head back, pulled the tack from her grip and tried to force it round her neck. She took out her Gerber, no point in carrying it if she didn’t use it, and hammered its screwdriver into his inner thigh. The noise of his scream should have alerted the whole neighbourhood. He stumbled and dropped the tack. Blood spurted from his wound and covered his hands as he tried to stem the flow. She bolted for the door, across the courtyard and ran for the Rav. She jumped in, turned the key but it stalled. She took a breath and glanced back. He staggered out of the archway, a shotgun in one hand his other putting pressure on the wound. With his good arm he let off two shots but each went wide of the car. The Rav kicked into life; she floored it and sped over an area of rough stony ground. The car bounced and jostled over ancient tree roots until the tyres hit the gravel on the drive. Her heart thumping, her foot still to the floor. She could see him in the rear-view mirror dropping the gun and falling to his knees. She’d intended to hit his femoral artery and managed a bullseye. When she reached the gates to the main road she pulled over and rang Mac. No answer. She rang Coulson who answered on the second ring.
‘What can I do for you, Doctor Fraser?’
She took a deep breath. ‘I think I might know who killed David.’
Coulson hesitated then answered, ‘And who might that be?’
