3 A Reformed Character (6 page)

'Young people today! No stamina!' she scoffed.

Amaryllis must have been on the run for days at a time during her professional career, but Jock didn't think two days was bad for a first attempt on Darren's part.

'Have you seen Christopher?' he asked.

'Not since we got back,' she said. 'I expect he's busy.'

Again, Jock refrained from asking, although it did cross his mind that Amaryllis might have been avoiding Christopher in case he found out she had been hurt in some sort of fracas she had got herself into.

They arrived at the address Amaryllis had obtained for Mrs Laidlaw. It was one of the former Council houses on the periphery of the town, but it had an enviable display of different types of narcissi interspersed with crocuses in the front garden, and Jock's spirits lifted when he saw them. It seemed that the police hadn't yet got round to visiting her. Or perhaps she had already left for the police station, or indeed gone out somewhere else. Now that Jock had retired, he tended to forget that people usually worked during working hours. But eventually Darren's mum did come to the door. It took a while, and it was only because Amaryllis and Jock started to argue about their next step that they were still there when she did.

'Yes?' she said abruptly.

Jock introduced himself and Amaryllis.

'You used to be a teacher up at the High School,' said Mrs Laidlaw accusingly. She had an expression of worry that looked as if it might be permanent, so that although she probably wasn't much over forty and still had quite pretty light brown wavy hair and a neat figure, her face had a worn look about it like someone much older.

'We're here about Darren,' said Amaryllis. 'Can we come in?'

She didn't answer but stepped back, holding the door open for them.

The house had flowers in it too: not the out of season supermarket offerings that were flown in from Spain at huge cost to the future of the planet, but little vases of snowdrops, and the kind of glass hyacinth jars where you could see the roots growing down as the stem grew up, and an amaryllis on the windowsill, four huge scarlet blooms dwarfing the stems. Jock wondered what she would have on display in summer. Pelargoniums perhaps, and a hanging basket just at the front door with striped petunias in it.

'Do you know where Darren is?' she asked them as they stood in the front room, not having been invited to sit down.

'Yes, I'm afraid we do,' said Jock. Normally he would have let Amaryllis do the talking, but he still felt the weight of guilt and wanted to offload some of it.

'He's at the police station,' he added when it was clear that neither of the women would say anything.

Mrs Laidlaw sighed. Jock was pleased to see that she didn't look as if she was about to go into hysterics or start shouting at him. He respected her more for the fact that her face just looked one degree more defeated than before.

They all stood there for a few moments, then she said, 'I'd better get my coat and go round there... He won't want to see me, but I'll just wait at the police station until somebody tells me something.'

'You're been here before, haven't you?' said Amaryllis softly.

'Yes, of course I've been here before! That last time was the worst - when he burnt down the village hall. I couldn't sleep for weeks - I thought that woman was going to break in and kill me in the night.' She stared at them both. Jock was baffled. Who was the woman in question?

'You know,' said Mrs Laidlaw, 'the one who was planning to do it up. Her father had built it or something. She was a trained killer - at least that's what the man at the fish shop told me.'

Amaryllis laughed. 'The man at the fish shop was right. But she doesn't kill innocent bystanders. Unless they're really annoying.'

Mrs Laidlaw stared at her. 'It's you, isn't it?'

'Yes - but don't worry, I forgive and forget easily.'

'I did wonder,' said Mrs Laidlaw. 'How hard is it to get into?'

'Get into?'

'To be a spy? Do you have to have many Highers? Or can you work your way up?'

'I don't think - ' Amaryllis began.

'He'd be better doing something practical,' Jock Interrupted. He couldn't stand people talking at cross-purposes. It was usually a waste of time. 'You've been trying to get him a job, Mrs Laidlaw, haven't you?'

'Tricia. My name's Tricia. Yes, I thought maybe he could work with the Donaldsons for a while. He seemed to get on well with Alan, and - oh dear, I can't believe Alan's dead! It's so awful!'

Tricia Laidlaw gave in at last and sat down on the nearest chair with a bump, covering her face with her hands for a moment while she wept silently.

'But he didn't want to work with the Donaldsons?' Amaryllis prompted.

'No.' She wiped her eyes. 'It was asking for the job - he didn't want to do that. Said it was begging and he might as well get a dog and sit at the corner of the High Street covered with a scummy blanket.' She seemed to be laughing and crying at the same time. 'I just said to him, well go over there now and ask them, otherwise you might find yourself doing just that! It was the wrong thing to say, of course.'

'It's always the wrong thing with young people,' said Jock darkly.

'Do you think Mr Donaldson would've given him a job?' said Amaryllis. 'Couldn't he have got help from the job centre if he'd wanted somebody?'

'I thought he might give Darren a chance,' said Tricia Laidlaw. 'Alan and he had been friends for such a long time... Darren used to go round to the Donaldsons' house and help with odd jobs when he was younger. They knew him...' She thought over what she had just said, and gave a bitter laugh. 'I don't suppose they'll be so keen to have him round there now.'

'Do you think it's even possible that - ' Amaryllis began and then came to a halt. Jock, realising she had been about to ask a silly question such as, did Mrs Laidlaw think Darren could have committed the murder, had stood on her foot. She had done well not to yelp or scream. Maybe she was saving that for when they were on their own. He hoped she would be gentle in her retaliation.

Tricia Laidlaw stood up. 'I'd better go round to the police station now.'

'Good luck with that,' said Jock.

'Let me know if you need any help,' said Amaryllis. She wrote her phone number on a piece of paper and gave it to the other woman, who folded it carefully into her purse as if it was valuable. It might be more valuable than she knew, Jock thought, watching. If Amaryllis took on a project, she wouldn't rest until she had completed it to her satisfaction. 'Is there a Mr Laidlaw? I mean - Darren's dad?'

There was a long pause, and Jock wondered if Amaryllis had finally crossed the line between friendly curiosity and utter nosiness.

'No,' said Tricia Laidlaw. 'He's - out of the picture.'

They all went out together.

'Has Victoria been to see you?' said Jock, almost as an afterthought.

'Victoria?'

'Victoria Petrelli,' said Jock. Surely he hadn't said the wrong thing with that. Any mother would be pleased if her son went out with someone as pretty and - well, pretty - as Victoria.

'I don't know - why should she come and see me?' said Mrs Laidlaw, looking genuinely puzzled.

Jock thought about it a bit. 'Well, just to talk about Darren, or something,'

He wasn't entirely sure what a girl-friend and a mother would talk about under the circumstances, but surely there was something.

'Talk about Darren?'

'Mrs Laidlaw,' said Amaryllis gently 'Did you know Darren was seeing Victoria?'

'Darren seeing Victoria Petrelli? No, surely not! What gave you that idea?'

'We met them together - they came to our caravan asking for help - didn't he tell you?' said Amaryllis.

Mrs Laidlaw actually swayed on her feet, and clutched at the gatepost for support. Jock moved a little closer to her, thinking he might catch her if she fell.

'He can't be - surely they're just friends?' she said faintly.

'Maybe that's what it was,' said Jock. He didn't want to distress the woman even more. He hoped Amaryllis wouldn't pester her with more questions.

'I've got to go now, anyway,' said Tricia Laidlaw and hurried off up the road.

Jock walked in the opposite direction, willing Amaryllis to follow. She did, but she soon overtook him and rushed along as if it was nearly closing time at the Queen of Scots.

'Where are we going?' said Jock to Amaryllis. He was already a bit out of breath trying to keep up with her. She was obviously heading somewhere in a hurry.

'The Petrellis,' she said. 'I hope you feel like an ice-cream sundae.'

'I'm a knickerbocker glory man myself.'

'I thought you might be.'

Chapter 7  Ice-cream surprise

Amaryllis walked faster than usual to prove to herself she hadn't suffered any after-effects from Giancarlo's assault. If Jock couldn't keep up, it was too bad. She would leave him behind if necessary - no room for passengers. She was still annoyed with herself for having to take two painkiller tablets first thing that morning. Her elbow had bothered her all night, with odd random twinges interspersed with shooting pains if she accidentally lay on that side; and she got a pain in her back when she walked. She couldn't remember feeling so bad since the time in Kazakhstan... But she drew a mental veil over all the events of that mission.

They seemed to be the first customers of the day in the Petrelli's restaurant, a small but prosperous-looking place not far from the harbour. Half of it was a takeaway that served ice-cream during the day and fish and chips in the evenings, and the other half was a sit-down restaurant, open for coffee in the mornings and later for lunch and dinner. For such a labour-intensive business they would need a large extended family, but Amaryllis thought that the younger generation comprised only Giancarlo and Victoria, or at least that was what she had gathered from idle eavesdropping at Cosy Clicks, so perhaps they were having to hire in extra help. She hoped Giancarlo wasn't around. It wasn't in her nature to run away from a problem, but she really could do without seeing him again for the moment.

She and Jock sat and stared at a picture of Vesuvius, wispy pale grey smoke curling out of the top.

A large dark man in a white apron came and took their order. He seemed subdued by Italian standards: perhaps he had lived in Pitkirtly long enough to go native. Amaryllis wondered if he was Giulia's husband, of whom she had heard surprisingly little. He didn't look much like the two children. But grizzly stubble, greying hair and a few layers of excess weight would have camouflaged any likeness.

They were waiting for their order when Jock suddenly said, 'Look out! Bandits at twelve o'clock.'

She looked at her watch without thinking. He nudged her. 'No. Outside looking in. I think we've been rumbled.'

'Rumbled?' she said as she glanced up, wondering where he got his slang from. Old movies, probably, like everyone else did.

Christopher was staring into the restaurant. As he caught her eye, he gave a little wave, and moved towards the door.

Oh well, at least she wouldn't have to try and make conversation with Jock McLean. Instead she could enjoy the bickering that almost always took place when Christopher and Jock were in the same place at the same time.

Actually, she was more pleased to see him than she had expected. But it meant she would have to try even harder to conceal her injuries, since she knew he would make a pointless fuss. Pointless because he didn't have it in him to exact revenge or do anything useful about it. A fuss because he knew he didn't have it in him, and resented the fact. Amaryllis often felt that she knew Christopher better than he knew himself.

Just as Christopher sat down, Victoria's grandmother brought Amaryllis and Jock's orders.

'Mmm, cinammon scones!' said Christopher, peering at the plates. 'I'll have one of those too.'

Victoria's granny looked at him blankly.

‘Molto grazie,' said Amaryllis, and spoke to Old Mrs Petrelli in fluent Italian to explain about Christopher and make his order - she was assuming he would have black coffee as he often did at this time of day. Mrs Petrelli seemed surprised but pleased, and commented on the fact that Amaryllis hadn't spoken to her in her native language at Cosy Clicks. Amaryllis explained that she hadn't wanted to be rude to the others who wouldn't understand. In truth she had been keeping her knowledge of Italian secret in case it came in useful for eavesdropping, but she decided to relinquish that advantage in the interests of establishing a rapport with Old Mrs Petrelli. But she had only just started to question the old woman about her grandson and his movements when Mrs Petrelli excused herself, saying she must fetch the order. Amaryllis's eyes, following her as she went towards the kitchen, detected a shape in the shadows. It was Victoria.

Mrs Petrelli glanced towards the girl as she went, and Amaryllis had a sense that she was concerned about her granddaughter. Of course, that was natural under the circumstances. Nobody would want their granddaughter involved with a murder suspect.

Victoria came forward, a bit hesitantly. It was Christopher, of course, who insisted she sit down with them. 'Are you all right?' he asked. 'Can we get you a coffee or anything?'

'I'm fine,' said Victoria. 'I've just had my breakfast.. I didn't know you spoke Italian,' she said to Amaryllis with an undertone of accusation in her voice.

'No reason for you to know,' said Amaryllis, buttering her scone with a deliberate nonchalance that she hoped would put the girl off balance. ‘It’s going to make Cosy Clicks a whole lot more interesting if I can chat to your grandma. I thought it might be rude to the others if I used it, but now I can see it wouldn't be fair on her if I didn't. There’s a lot for your grandma and me to talk about.’

'I have to go,' said Victoria uneasily, glancing towards the kitchen. 'I need to go and help with something.'

'Did you know Darren has given himself up?'

'No. I was hoping he wouldn't, but I thought he might do.'

'It's not your fault,' said Christopher, leaning towards the girl and speaking earnestly. He was old enough to be her father. Amaryllis found it really very irritating to have to watch this kind of thing.

'Will he get out on bail?' said Victoria in a small voice.

'Oh, I don't think so,' said Amaryllis. 'Not on a murder charge.'

She noticed a strange flash of panic cross the girl's face, to be replaced by steely determination - an expression Amaryllis knew she herself often adopted only too readily, as if it fitted her face. It was a slightly more incongruous match for Victoria's more rounded features. Christopher leaned further forward - for goodness' sake, any further and he would fall at Victoria's feet! Didn't he know how ridiculous he appeared?

Amaryllis wanted to storm out, but she had only just taken a couple of bites out of her cinammon scone, and had no intention of abandoning it. She turned to Jock, who was munching silently.

'What do you think, Jock?' she asked him.

'No chance of bail,' said Jock cheerily. 'Don't you worry, Victoria. He'll be safe enough in custody. They'll look after him until we find out who really did it.'

'So will he just stay in the police station here?' said Victoria. Suddenly she wasn't needed in the kitchen any more. 'Or will they move him somewhere else?'

'It depends,' said Amaryllis. 'They'll be still questioning him at the moment. Then they'll have to take him to the sheriff court and then he's almost certainly going to be remanded in custody - somewhere like Auchterderran prison.'

'I didn't know there was a prison at Auchterderran,' said Jock indignantly, as if the authorities should automatically have consulted him on the building of such institutions.

'It's only just opened,' said Amaryllis. 'I think it used to be some sort of educational resource centre.'

'Will I be able to go and see him?' said Victoria.

‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ said Amaryllis. When she saw how Victoria’s face fell, she relented slightly. ‘I expect you can write to him though.’

‘Write to him? Pah! What’s the use of that?’

Victoria flounced off, looking more Italian by the moment in her dramatic indignation.

‘Now look what you’ve done!’ said Christopher accusingly.

‘Me? I don’t have any jurisdiction over prison regulations!’ said Amaryllis. They glared at each other.

Jock was staring after Victoria.

‘There must be something better she can do.’

‘What do you mean, better?’ said Christopher.

Jock waved his hand around the café in a dismissive way. ‘Better than this. She doesn’t need to be stuck here in a crummy little café in Pitkirtly helping in the kitchen, waiting on people. Why doesn’t she get away?’

‘It isn’t that bad,’ said Christopher, seizing on the most trivial of Jock’s points in the way Amaryllis had often observed him doing. ‘It's very clean. And maybe that’s all she wants to do with her life. Maybe she’ll inherit the family business one day.’

‘There’s Giancarlo though,’ said Jock. ‘If anybody’s going to inherit anything, it’ll be him, surely. She could go to university, do something worthwhile… She could get out of here and leave them all behind.’

‘What about Darren?’ said Amaryllis, playing devil’s advocate. She completely agreed with Jock. Victoria was silly to stick around here when there was a whole world out there. There must be something better for her.

‘She could leave Darren behind too,’ argued Jock. ‘He’s just some petty criminal who’ll never make anything of himself. Either he’ll go right downhill and end up in and out of gaol for the rest of his life, or at best he’ll go on the dole and get the chance to pick up litter once a week in exchange for his benefit money. She could have a life. She’s certainly got the brains for it, from what I remember.’

Jock sounded more angry about Darren than about anything she had heard him talk about for some time. Ever, in fact. Amaryllis wondered what his interest in the boy was. Maybe he saw him as a kind of substitute son – one who actually needed Jock’s help instead of going off with his mother and hardly seeing his father.

Old Mrs Petrelli came out of the kitchen with Christopher’s scone and coffee. At the last minute, just before she reached the table, Victoria darted out and grabbed the little tray out of her grandmother’s hands. ‘Here, Nonnina, let me take it.’

Mrs Petrelli surrendered the tray, but Amaryllis thought her expression was still troubled as she gazed at her granddaughter. That would be something to follow up at the next Cosy Clicks meeting.

Christopher, of course, was thrilled to accept his coffee and scone at the hands of Victoria, but if he had thought she would pause and chat to them any more that day, he was destined to be disappointed, since the girl rushed back to the kitchen as soon as she had unloaded the tray.

It wasn’t until they were outside the café, walking along together in some random direction that seemed to be taking them on to the harbour wall, for want of anywhere better to go, that he said, a bit wistfully, ‘You’re right, of course. Both of you, I mean. She’s too good to be waiting on people like us.’

Amaryllis and Jock exchanged glances.

‘Right,’ said Amaryllis briskly. ‘Who wants to come and see the Donaldsons with me?’