by V Clifford
Sleep didn’t come easily. Twice she heard noises that had to be investigated and Mollie was none too pleased to have to accompany her downstairs to check that everything was secured. The dog’s look implied that Viv hadn’t quite got the hang of the fact that strange noises were a dog’s job and they were much more efficient at it than humans could ever be.
***
When morning came the rain and wind had eased off and her run through the river park with Mollie boosted her energy. She was showered and dressed when Mac arrived carrying a paper bag, which he handed to her. ‘Fresh sourdough.’
She was a big fan of sourdough and she hugged him briefly before switching on the kettle.
‘Are you doing anything tomorrow night?’
She turned to look at him, ‘Depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On why you want to know.’
‘Well you know that guy I mentioned, the landowner?’
‘Sholto Percy?’
‘The very one. You are amazing to have remembered his name.’
‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’
‘Ah but it will because now you’re more intrigued than you were before. He’s invited me to go to drinks. Having a few people in.’ He grinned, ‘Happens all the time in the country.’
‘People in town have drinks parties.’
‘Indeed they do but in the country the invitations are . . .’
She interrupted him, ‘Don’t say they always have a purpose, because it’s the same in town. No one ever invites me to drinks unless they want something - apart from Jinty. I’m guessing Lord Auchenban is exactly the same. What do you reckon he’s after? And is it the first time he’s asked you?’
‘I’m not sure what he’s after but he’s getting married soon and perhaps he thought his wife-to-be should get to know some of the locals . . . or, and this is way more likely, he’s intrigued that I’m a cop. Either way it would be good if you’d come with me. And yes, it is the first time he’s asked.’
‘Okay.’
He blinked. ‘What? As in, “okay” you’ll come without any persuasion?’
She bit into a slice of buttered sourdough and nodded. ‘Only because you very sweetly went out of your way to get my favourite bread.’ She pointed her half-eaten slice of bread at him. ‘Condition. We stay for half an hour tops.’
He lifted a cup of coffee that she gestured to with her head. ‘Cheers. We don’t have to stay that long.’
‘You know me well. What are you up to today?’
‘I’ve a meeting in Edinburgh but I’ll be . . .’
‘I’ll make food if you like.’
‘Great idea in the abstract but what if I bring pizza or something back here?’
‘You do realise I’ll never get good at cooking if you don’t encourage me to practise.’
‘I know but you’ve had a tough few weeks and . . .’
‘So have you. I do appreciate you looking out for me but you have to look out for yourself too.’
‘Point taken. So what kind of pizza would you like?’
She shook her head. ‘Quattro stagioni with extra artichoke.’
‘Good choice.’
‘So this meeting in Edinburgh got anything to do with Sal?’
He nodded, ‘Yes. I’ll be able to tell you more when I get back but I’m guessing it’s a “back off” warning from another security service.’
‘Want me to find out . . . ‘
He raised his hand. ‘That won’t be necessary. Besides I thought you said Sal’s solicitor was coming at 10am.’
‘He is. I really think it’s too early for him to have anything to say especially to me. I mean we were not exactly bosom buddies in the last couple of months.’
‘I think you’ve lost sight that she was trying to get into character. She had a job to do and knew that she might have to get under the skin of someone over there.’
She stared at him. ‘But that wasn’t what Sal was about.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘If that memorial service was anything to go by I don’t think any of us really knew what Sal was about.’
‘Are you saying that the sabbatical was a set-up?’
‘Could have been.’
‘But who?’ She scratched her hands through her hair. ‘I’m not quite getting this. That would make it a kind of double bluff. They, the FBI, set up a position and stick it under her nose in the hope that she bites. She does. Then your lot see another opportunity to use her as a pawn in God knows what. But the FBI know, or hoped, that that’s what would happen so . . .’
‘Triple bluff.’
She choked back a sob, ‘Okay. So she died for what exactly?’
He rubbed her upper arm. ‘I’ll hopefully know better by the end of the day.’
She wiped her eyes. ‘What could possibly be worth dying for?’
‘She kne . . .’
‘Don’t give me that, “she knew what the risks were”, bullshit.’ She felt another sob rising and swallowed hard. ‘I can’t believe she’s dead. I mean only a few weeks ago we were arguing about . . .’
‘Don’t. Don’t go over and over it. You’ve almost wrung yourself out trying to retrace anything that you said or she said that you missed. Someone, most likely that angry lover in the bureau, wanted her out of the way. We’re on it. They’re on it.’
She wandered out of the kitchen through to the conservatory and stared over the parkland. ‘Sal loved that view. It would never have worked. I love the city. See all that.’ She swept her hand in a semicircle. ‘It’s too green and moist and fresh. I don’t know what to do with so much space.’
‘It’s not so bad. You might get used to it.’
She glanced round at him, ‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing, just that the country is a great place to unwind.’
She knew by his tone that he was testing the water. ‘Okay, so you don’t know me well at all. If I’m not pounding tarmac everyday I have withdrawal symptoms. The fact that in the country you never, and I mean never, need to look for a parking space. What’s that about? It should be a problem to park a car. That way you appreciate all the more when a space is free.’
‘Well while you worry about not spending enough time fretting over a parking space I’m heading into Edinburgh. See you later with the quattro stagioni.’
The door clicked behind him and she sat on the edge of the couch. She couldn’t name what it was she felt. Too many conflicting sensations competed for attention. Maybe she’d back out of dinner. Mac would understand. But Mac could do with support too. She heard a car pull up and thought it must be Mac returning to tell her something but it was the postie. He dumped a pile of mail on the porch and reversed down the drive at a speed that wasn’t safe for him or anyone coming the other way. Viv retrieved the mail and set it on the kitchen table. She began to check through it; of course none of it would be for her. She was about to discard it when she noticed an envelope with Sal’s writing on it, an official US government stamp and addressed to Dr V Fraser. It had clearly been tampered with. They had no shame, all mail was obviously inspected.
She ripped it open and checked the date. She grabbed her phone and checked the calendar. It had been written on the day before Viv was due to come home to Scotland. It said,
Dear Viv, I’m not sure where I’ll be by the time you read this but I want you to know that I love you and although my behaviour when you visited left a lot to be desired, it was all in the name of duty. When I come home I’ll explain more clearly but none of it was your fault. I was goading you in the interest of authenticity. I need my new colleagues to believe in me and . . .
Tears streamed down Viv’s cheeks as she remembered how Sal had been. It was as if she’d had a really bad bout of PMS and everything was freaking her out. There’s a shedload of bonuses being into women, but understanding PMS had to be in the top ten. Viv had thought about challenging her, but assumed it would soon pass.
At 10am the doorbell rang and
Viv didn’t move. She sat fixed to her seat in the conservatory as Mollie barked her way to the door. Was this meeting really necessary? The bell rang again and reluctantly she pushed herself off the couch and went to the door. The person on the other side wasn’t at all what she’d expected. She’d spoken to a man, so not unreasonably, had anticipated a man. But now a dark-haired young woman in a dark navy suit, with heels that must surely immobilise her, stood tensely on the porch.
She stretched out a hand and introduced herself. ‘Tanya Stevenson. Mr Arbuthnott is unwell and sent me in his place.’
Viv, holding Mollie from going out, pulled back the door and gestured for the solicitor to enter. ‘We can sit in the kitchen, it’s warmest there.’ She pointed to where they were going and the woman teetered ahead. What was she thinking of wearing shoes that would give her a back injury? Pushing down her judgement Viv pulled out a chair for the woman then took a seat opposite. It was no bad thing to have a solid pitch pine boundary between them. The woman extricated a folder from an oversized shoulder bag and set it on the table.
‘Do you have any idea why I am here?’
‘Good question, but no. No, I don’t have any idea and frankly I think it’s too soon for anyone to be poking around in Sal’s life when . . .’ She swallowed. This was not the time to sob.
The solicitor had the good grace to close the folder. ‘I can see why you think it’s too soon but we are acting at Dr Chapman’s request.’
‘How can that be? I know she was organised and all that but she can’t have known she was . . .’ She sighed and put her hands up to cover her mouth. She wasn’t the type to pray but she felt like it. ‘I’m sorry - this is difficult.’
‘If you can give me twenty minutes of your time you’ll understand why I’m here so soon.’
Viv nodded and the woman continued. True to her word within twenty minutes she was wrapping up her folder and preparing to leave. Viv was feeling dumbstruck.
‘You don’t have to take any action. Dr Chapman had everything placed in trusts so that all you’d have to do was make a decision about whether you wanted to use the cottage. Her main concern was Mollie.’
On hearing her name the dog jumped off the couch in the conservatory and trotted through to the kitchen. She nuzzled into Viv’s thigh. ‘I think there’s no question about who is going to look after Moll. She’ll stay with me.’
The woman gave a curt nod accompanied by a brief smile.
Viv said, ‘What are my options if I don’t want to accept her wishes?’
‘There isn’t a plan B yet but I’m sure Mr Arbuthnott will find an answer. Would you like me to ask him?’
‘Yes. Yes I would. Thank you.’
When the door clicked shut Viv put her back against it and slid down to the floor. Mollie pushed her muzzle under her elbow and lay down with her chin on Viv’s knee.
Viv blew out a huge breath. ‘What are we going to do?’ They stayed like that until eventually she rubbed the dog’s ears then jumped to her feet. ‘Right, this feeling sorry for myself isn’t working. Time to get down to some serious work, take action. Action! Action! Action!’
Mollie leapt up and circled as if she was in for another walk but Viv had other ideas. She took the stairs two at a time and grabbed her laptop. Better to keep busy and now was as good a time as any to snoop online about Lord Sholto or Auchenban or whatever else he called himself. He could live to regret this. The first things that came up were the ‘civic duties’ expected of a landowner in a small community. Opening the gala, giving prizes to the allotment group winners, the kinds of things that Viv thought had gone out with the floppy disk, but not so. Local newspapers covered every movement he made around the village, or so they thought. She had ways of getting behind the scenes and had no reluctance to pry where others couldn’t.
She discovered that he was a member of a private group of boys, now men in theory, who’d been anti-sport at school. He’d been part of the dramatic society and had been on a committee for organising trips abroad to see European fine art. A world apart from her own school experience at Forrester High, although to give her teachers credit she had built up plenty of stamina going gorge walking, rock climbing and the odd canoeing trip. Florence and Venice were off the curriculum. It was as if he’d organised the Grand Tour for the 21st century. It seemed that in some ways, although geographically their school trips had been worlds apart, psychologically they were all hotbeds of friendships. Friendships that differed from those you might build at the school dance, or with folk that lived near you. A stronger bond was created when you’d been seen and accepted at your most vulnerable. This appeared to be the case with Sholto and his buddies from the arts and dramatic groups. What happened on those trips to cause that to happen? Had he stuck his neck out for someone, or the group, or maybe put himself at risk? He was certainly held in high esteem for something and they all had titles so it wasn’t social deference.
She stopped for coffee at lunchtime and let Mollie into the garden for a minute, but was interested to find out more about this man who had become something of an enigma. She spent the afternoon trawling articles and social media for anyone he’d been friends with. You never knew what tiny piece of information was going to matter so it was all worth checking. Occasionally she made a note of a name or venue so that she could pick up the trail once she’d done with each page. At home she’d have multiple screens and windows open but here she was down to one which made for laborious research. Once she’d seen enough of Sholto, his family and his chums she went back to Sal’s study and rebooted her computer but Mollie whimpered and Viv was shocked to see that it was already dark outside.
‘Shit! I’m so sorry. Let’s get you out before you burst.’
The sky had cleared and she could see her breath ahead of her. A sliver of a moon crept up over the woods illuminating the path towards the old chapel. With the river on her right and the woods on her left she jogged with the dog on an extending lead, aware that having Mollie with her was a bonus. Two sets of eyes were better than one and the dog’s senses were on hyper alert at all times unlike someone who became distracted by memories or what had to be done tomorrow Mollie was totally in the moment. Viv was beginning to appreciate how much she’d learn from spending time with Mollie. How much energy could be conserved if only she wasn’t worrying about the immediate past or future? Mollie suddenly pulled and tried to take off. A deer got up from behind a patch of brambles and trotted up the steep bank and into the wood. Viv’s heart pounded. She had a pretty acute sense of smell but couldn’t compete with Mollie. Maybe there would be a way to train the dog to help her make better use of her own senses. When they reached the chapel they about turned and retraced their steps along the bank and over the river park towards the cottage. The cattle had been taken off during a really wet weekend and left deep hoof prints now freezing into narrow holes. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Only the moon illuminated the path now that it was clear of the tops of the trees. The ground was precariously uneven but she needed the jog. As she reached the stile on the garden fence Mac’s car pulled into the drive.
‘Perfect timing,’ she called out.
He raised a huge box covered with what looked like a giant tinfoil pillow. ‘Dinner is served.’
‘God I’m starving.’ She stroked Mollie’s ears, ‘You must be too. Come on let’s get you fed.’
‘You take a torch with you when you go out at night?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve got my phone. It has a beam which lets me see to unlock the door but it doesn’t stretch far. Why? You worried about me?’
‘Always. I’m always worried about you.’
She stopped in mid flow of putting food down for the dog. ‘You’re not serious are you?’
He pottered around getting plates from the cupboard and cutlery from the drawer. ‘I am serious. There’s never a day that I don’t think about you and your safety.’
‘Wow! You should get out more.’
‘I wou
ld if you’d come with me.’
‘God Mac, not that old nugget. Pulling a Nigel-nae-pals on me.’
‘No, just haven’t found anyone whose company I prefer.’
She walked over to him. ‘Are you serious?’
He stopped unwrapping the pizza, ‘Sadly, yes. Let’s eat before you have a panic attack.’ He continued pulling out the pizza and laid slices on plates.
She was silenced.
***
The following morning she woke up feeling rested and ready to get stuck in to Sal’s correspondence. The meeting with the solicitor could be put to one side. As the woman had said, she didn’t need to make any decisions at the moment. In fact now would be the worst time to do anything. Mac’s revelation that he worried about her was a shock but there was also not much she could do about that apart from prove to him that she could look after herself. Maybe she should think about doing weights. She stretched, Mollie sighed at being pushed off her legs. ‘Come on. Let’s get moving.’
The dog trotted beside her to the bathroom then bolted down to the front door. A quick trip down the front drive and back before breakfast was all she had time for. Today was a day for digging into Sal’s secrets. Everyone had secrets but did she want to know what Sal’s were? Only one way to find out. In the first couple of hours she’d reinforced her view that she hadn’t known Sal as well as she thought she had. Sal had been working on so many different projects, not just for police in the UK but from Sweden, Turkey, and even one in Australia. Profiling seemed to be a skill that could be expanded cross-culturally. That said, the case from Australia had involved a man who had begun his criminal life in the UK but continued it across Europe before finding his way to Sydney. He was now serving the rest of his life behind bars thanks to Sal’s work.
Mollie stirred just as the doorbell rang and interrupted her concentration. She sighed and went down to answer it. Brian was on the doorstep out of breath.
His words tumbled out. ‘There are two official looking guys in a dark blue saloon trying to find you. They drove into the back drive and wandered about the lodge and were on their way to the old house when I caught up with them. They asked where to find you. I said here, but that they’d have to drive back into the village to find it. I’ll make myself scarce before they arrive but thought I’d give you a heads-up. They’ve got American accents.’
