6 The Queen of Scots Mystery (8 page)

Chapter 13 Half hour, half hour to
Aberdour

‘What we need to do first,’ said Amaryllis as they set out from Christopher’s house, ‘is to find out more about Aberdour Breweries.’

‘Couldn’t we have found out online?’ groaned Charlie. The dog gave a soft whimper
, possibly of agreement. ‘They must have a website.’

‘Yes, yes, I’ve done all that,’ said Amaryllis impatiently. She hadn’t been able to sleep again the night before. Of course her body clock was bound to be at sixes and sevens, what with the spell in the cargo shed and whatever those bastards had done to manipulate the
weather and the time of day. Anyway, it had given her an excuse to spend hours online finding out about breweries, and carbon dioxide and all sorts of other topics that were sure to come in useful one day. ‘But what I want to do today is to have a look at the place in real life.’

‘There might not be anybody there,’ said Charlie. ‘They could all be out delivering beer.’

‘Who does the brewing then?’ said Amaryllis. ‘It won’t be a one-man band, you know. The website claims they sell beer all over the place. Even as far afield as Glenrothes. And Windygates. Somebody’s got to keep up with the demand by making the stuff.’

‘But don’t they just put it all in a big vat and leave it?’

‘You’re being deliberately obtuse, Charlie. I blame the dog. You’re spending too much time with him.’

The dog didn’t want to get on the bus. Charlie had refused to
bring his car and drive them along to Aberdour on the flimsy grounds that somebody might see him, so they were going to get the bus to Inverkeithing and then get on the train that ran along the coast from there. Amaryllis was looking forward to that part of the journey, but they might not even get that far if the dog didn’t agree to come with them. She could go on her own, but she didn’t want Charlie to feel left out. The idea that he might have wanted to be left out of this expedition didn’t even cross her mind.

Eventually the bus driver got out and tempted the dog on board with the offer of a rich tea biscuit. Amaryllis added this to her mental list of things she liked about living in Pitkirtly. As
soon as they drew up at the bus stop in Inverkeithing the dog dashed to the doors at the front, and was the first one off.

‘Maybe we’d better stop and get a packet of Rich Teas for the rest of the journey,’ she suggested to Charlie. He scoffed at this, but after the
dog had refused for the second time to get on the train he ran up to the supermarket and came back with a couple of plastic bags full of food.

‘I got some sandwiches as well,’ he said.

‘In case he gets bored with Rich Teas?’

‘No, they’re for us! Is cheese and onion all right?’

‘My favourite,’ she lied.

She vaguely remembered something had happened to Christopher in Aberdour, while he had been walking the Fife Coastal Path with his sister. Wait a minute! Liam Johnstone had shot at them on the beach.
That was where he and Penelope lived – not actually on the beach, but in one of the rather nice houses at the back of it. Penelope still lived there, as far as Amaryllis knew, but she had no idea where Liam had made his home after the divorce. And did Zak still live with Penelope, or had he moved to Pitkirtly to be closer to the Cultural Centre, where she knew he was doing a work placement, whatever that was, and to some of his friends? She made a few mental notes before remembering the voice recorder on her phone again.

‘What was that?’ said Charlie, as she muttered into it.

‘Just making some notes,’ she told him. ‘The modern way. I don’t suppose the police have caught up with this aspect of mobile technology yet.’

He snorted. ‘Caught up with it? We invented it!’

She had pressed ‘replay’ before thinking about what she had last used the recording function for. Keith Burnet’s voice was loud and clear. ‘… won’t tell anybody I told you this, will you?’

‘What’s Keith been telling you, then?’ said Charlie.

‘Promise you won’t get him into trouble.’

‘Hmph! I’m no longer in a position to get anybody into trouble. I’ve got enough of my own.’

‘But that’s one reason for doing this, Charlie. If you solve the case before they do, they’ll have to take you back.’

‘Hold on a minute,’ he protested, but
as he spoke the train slid past the ruined Aberdour Castle and into the station. The staff hadn’t put up the summer hanging baskets yet, but there were tubs of daffodils coming into flower, and window-boxes with crocuses, all opening to the spring sunshine.

Amaryllis was slightly worried she was too
unkempt to be allowed even to set foot on the immaculate station platform, but they got out into the street without being stopped.

‘So where’s this brewery then?’ Charlie growled. ‘Let’s go there first and get it over with.’

Ignoring the temptations of the castle and the beach, Amaryllis led the way along the High Street and then up a very steep road that looked as if it led to the back of beyond. The pavements ran out after a few yards and they had to walk on the road. Charlie shortened the dog’s lead and made it walk to heel.

‘It’ll be hard to get delivery lorries up and down here,’ commented Charlie.

As if conjured up by his words, a lorry turned a corner ahead and trundled down towards them. The two men in the cab stared at them curiously as they flattened themselves against the nearest wall to let it past.

‘They’ll know us again, won’t they?’ said Amaryllis. ‘But then, I think the brewery’s the only thing up here, so I expect they were wondering why we came this way.’

‘Maybe they’ll mistake us for tourists,’ said Charlie.

‘But we aren’t even wearing sunglasses.’

They reached the brewery yard from which the lorry had emerged.

‘Look,’ said Amaryllis, nudging Charlie. ‘They still have stables. They must have done horse-drawn deliveries
at one time.’

They advanced into the yard through fancy wrought-iron gates
which at the moment stood open.

‘Hey!’ someone shouted from the
modern loading bay that projected from the Victorian building. The yeasty smell that they had been following up the road increased. Amaryllis, who was sensitive to strong smells, sneezed.

‘Is this the Aberdour Breweries?’ called Charlie. It was a silly question, because they had seen the words formed in wrought-iron above the gates. But, Amaryllis reflected, his whole career had probably been founded on asking silly questions,
either to confirm things he already knew or to trick people into thinking he himself was stupid, which was far from the case under normal circumstances.

‘Yes,’ called the
young man at the door of the loading bay, who was loading boxes into a white van with the Aberdour Breweries logo on the side. ‘Don’t come any further. This is private property.’

‘You see what it’s like being a civilian?’ muttered Amaryllis. ‘You have to find other ways of getting to where you want to be.’

‘Like breaking in?’ said Charlie. ‘We’re not going to do that, though.’

‘It might come to that yet.’

‘You got a hearing problem or what, pal?’ said the man as they approached. ‘Private property.’

‘Can I
double-check how many vehicles you have?’ said Amaryllis, pulling a clipboard out of her bag. She smiled. ‘We’re from the Council. Trading Standards. She pulled a clip-on badge out of her pocket and clipped it on the waistband of her jeans. She nudged Charlie. ‘You’re not wearing your badge.’

‘Oh! Damn, left it at home,’ said Charlie.

‘Do you always take a scruffy old dog with you on official business?’ said the man.

Amaryllis nodded, still smiling fixedly. ‘You’ve no idea how difficult some people can be when it comes to Trading Standards.
This is an official West Fife council dog, trained to defend us from attack.’ The man took a step back, his eyes on the dog, which had decided nothing interesting was about to happen and had lain down on Charlie’s feet. ‘But we’re just doing our job… So do you only have this one van, or more than that?’ She had a pencil poised over the clipboard.

‘
There’s a delivery lorry as well,’ said the man reluctantly. ‘But if I find out you’re winding me up…’

‘You won’t,’ said Amaryllis.
‘We’ll need the names of all registered drivers, and their home addresses.’

She could almost feel the tension coming from Charlie as she continued to lie through her teeth. She kicked the back of his shoe softly
as a warning. The dog growled, and the brewery employee took another step back.

‘I can’t give out that kind of information,’ said the man sullenly. ‘I’d have to ask the receptionist. She’s the only one who knows how to work the computer.’

‘May we speak to her, please?’ said Amaryllis.

‘You can’t come inside,’ said the young man. ‘Health and safety. I’ll ask her to print you out a list.’

‘Thank you – that would be most helpful,’ said Amaryllis, making a note on the clipboard.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ muttered Charlie as the young man disappeared into the building through a side door. ‘Before he throws us out.’

‘He won’t throw out two people from Trading Standards,’ said Amaryllis with an appearance of confidence she didn’t entirely feel.

‘But the dog…’

‘Look, Charlie, this is what it’s like being a civilian and trying to find out something,’ she said, irritated. ‘Remember it the next time you tell me and Christopher off for poking our noses into something.’

‘I haven’t done that for a while. And I probably won’t get the chance again.’

‘Don’t be silly. That attitude won’t get you un-suspended. If you really want to get back to work. I’m not sure you do.’

‘Of course I do! What else would I do for a living?’ he snapped.

They stood there in silence for a while. As the young man walked back towards them, a piece of paper in his hand, they heard a noise. As he reached them, the brewery delivery lorry turned back into the yard and came to a halt in the middle of the space with a great screech of brakes, and the driver jumped out.

‘So, are these the names and addresses we asked for?’ said Amaryllis, focusing with difficulty on the young man and the piece of paper. She reached out for it. He held it
up out of her reach.

‘Can I see your ID again?’

‘Hey!’ called the lorry driver, advancing on them faster and faster. The dog sat up and barked once, loudly.

‘Watch out – that dog’s trained to defend them,’ said the young man with the piece of paper.

‘If you believe that, you’ll believe anything,’ said the driver. ‘He’s a cop! What’s he doing here?’

‘I’m not…’ Charlie began, but Amaryllis’s brain worked faster than his.

She grabbed the piece of paper out of the young man’s hand and said to Charlie, ‘Run like hell.’

They took off, past the driver, who didn’t quite manage to turn round quickly enough, past the lorry, and out of the yard. Running feet pursued them.

‘Don’t look round,’ said Amaryllis. ‘Quick – this way!’

She dived through a gate and into somebody’s garden. Amaryllis was accustomed to making a speedy getaway so she had earmarked this as a possible escape route while they climbed the hill in the first place. She had seen that the whole row of gardens had a lane running along the back of them, and there was an open gate leading to it. She dived through and flung herself along the narrow path. She didn’t wait to see if Charlie and the dog were following, but she at least one of them breathing behind her, louder and louder. If either of them collapsed now she would be very cross.

‘We’ve blown our cover,’ he puffed.

‘Sometimes you just have to get away,’ said Amaryllis, slowing down slightly to look behind them. There was no sign of any pursuit. ‘We’ve got their names anyway.’

She waved the piece of paper in his face. It had an Aberdour Breweries logo at the top but it was completely blank apart from that.

Charlie Smith started to laugh, and even the dog looked as if it might break into a grin.

‘What a waste of time,’ he said.

Even when they got on the train, he was still indulging in intermittent bouts of silly laughter. Oh well, thought Amaryllis, at least I’ve cheered him up a bit.

Chapter 14 Christopher has his methods

Christopher smiled to himself as he made his way home from the Cultural Centre at the end of the day. It was pouring with rain and he
knew if anyone saw him they would wonder why he looked so happy, but he didn’t care. Amaryllis had phoned to tell him about the Aberdour fiasco, and he had something to show her. He knew she would be furious, but that was part of the fun.

He vaguely hoped Charlie Smith would cook something for his tea. He was getting bored with bacon and egg after eating it morning, noon and night. Well, morning and night at least. He usually took a packed lunch to work with him.

She met him at his front door.

‘It’s all on their website! The names of their employees. And pictures.’

‘Yes,’ said Christopher, only slightly disappointed that she’d spoiled his surprise.

‘We’ve got
in some Chinese takeaway,’ she said.

That made up for it.

The three of them – four, counting the dog – made short work of the sweet and sour pork, the chicken chow mein and the Singapore vegetable rice vermicelli, not to mention the prawn crackers.

‘They’ve got real prawns in them, you know,’ said Amaryllis. ‘I asked the owner.’

‘As long as it’s not horse,’ said Charlie, and laughed.

‘I wish I hadn’t bothered cheering you up,’ said Amaryllis, giving him a hard stare.

‘So you’ve been out getting into trouble with Amaryllis,’ said Christopher to Charlie, trying not to sound too envious.

‘Yes,’ said Charlie. ‘I hope we won’t be doing it again tomorrow. My poor old legs wouldn’t last another day.’

‘Did she make you run away?’

‘Yes.’

‘Across somebody’s garden?’

‘Yes.’

‘You enjoyed it really,’ said Amaryllis, tidying up the foil containers. ‘We’ve been waiting for you to come home, Christopher, to hold a conference.’

‘Oh,
so sorry I have to work to earn a living and hold up your investigations,’ said Christopher. ‘Will we go into the front room or do we need the table for this conference?’

‘We won’t include you at all if you’re going to be like that,’ said Amaryllis.

‘It’s my house!’

‘So?’

Christopher gave up. They all sat back down at the kitchen table with tea and a few slices of toast for added brain-power.

‘So what exactly are we looking for?’ he said. He had gone ahead and found the names and addresses Amaryllis wanted without knowing why. It was the story of his life since he had met her.

‘More information about the beer delivery last Friday,’ she said.

‘I was there,’ said Christopher. ‘So were you, Charlie.’

Charlie looked embarrassed. ‘I was a bit out of it.’

‘Did either of you notice anything odd going on?’ said Amaryllis. ‘No, of course you didn’t. Did anyone else even walk past while you were immersed in whatever you were immersed in – staring at the dog or something?’

‘I’ve thought about this already,’ said Christopher. He closed his eyes. ‘Neil Macrae said something when I was passing the pub.’

‘What was it?’

‘I can’t remember – no, I didn’t hear properly because of all the din they made shifting barrels off the lorry. Maybe he was just telling me to watch out. He had part of the pavement up so that they could deliver straight into the cellar.’

‘What happened next?’

‘I spoke to Charlie – then he was sick – then there was an awful crash and someone shouting – then I saw the delivery lorry pulling away… I’ve got a feeling there was something else though. It’s been nagging at me. But I can’t picture it.’

‘Presumably it wasn’t Liam Joh
nstone jumping or being pushed into the cellar,’ she said. ‘What about the awful crash? Will Neil remember that?’

‘You’d have to ask him. It was maybe
the usual sound they make when they put the trapdoors back down. Then shouting goodbye or something.’

‘You see,’ said Amaryllis, ‘there were very few opportunities for Liam to get into the cellar. I’ve seen Neil behind the bar, and he’s on the alert all the time. I know he sometimes looks as if he’s half-asleep but he’s as tense as – as the dog when it knows there’s chicken chow mein about. He springs into life if anything happens in the bar. Remember that time Maisie Sue dropped her knitting in Jock McLean’s pint? He was over in a flash making sure she was all right.’

‘She wasn’t all right: she was hysterical,’ said Charlie, starting to laugh again. ‘But that’s nothing to what Jock was like.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ said Amaryllis. ‘I’ve still got the scar on my wrist from trying to restrain him.’

‘So you suspect the beer delivery men of pushing him into the cellar?’ said Christopher, rather proud of the way he had put two and two together.

‘Maybe,’ said Amaryllis. ‘But it depends…’

‘On what?’

‘
On whether either of them has any connection with the case. Let’s have a look at their names and addresses.’

They all stared at Christopher’s notes. He had evidently used the same piece of paper for a number of different purposes, writing on different topics at various angles.

‘Are these the names?’ said Charlie uncertainly, pointing.

‘No, of course not!’ said Christopher. ‘That’s some family history stuff I was doing in my spare time
for one of our regulars in the library. Here are the names from the Aberdour Breweries website. And the addresses I got from the phone book. ‘And,’ he added, ‘I printed out the pictures to see if you recognised any of them. Here we are.’

He had put his jacket on the back of the chair; now he rootled around in a pocket and produced a piece of paper that had been folded
too many times. Amaryllis and Charlie peered at the dim faces on it.

‘There,’ said Amaryllis at last, pointing out a man with a grin that was too wide, and eyes that were that bit too big and ingenuous. Christopher had met people like that and didn’t trust them. He preferred it if strangers behaved like strangers and not like friends he hadn’t met yet.

‘Who’s that?’ said Charlie.

‘Bill Lawson,’ said Amaryllis, screwing up her eyes to see the caption printed under the photo. Christopher wondered if she needed glasses. She was probably putting off getting them because he knew she hated to admit to any weakness. ‘That’s the man who identified you as a cop at the brewery.’

‘Nasty piece of work,’ muttered Charlie. The dog stirred from its post-takeaway slumber and growled faintly under the table.

‘What makes you say that?’ said Christopher. ‘Did he make threats?’

‘Not really,’ said Amaryllis. ‘I just knew we had to get away from him.’

‘So that’s why you ran through somebody’s garden?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ve got an instinct for these things.’

‘So – Bill Lawson,’ said Charlie slowly. ‘Does the name ring any bells?’

‘It does with me,’ said Neil Macrae grimly, appearing in the kitchen doorway. ‘He’s Andrea’s husband.’

‘Who’s Andrea?’ said Christopher. ‘And how did you get in?’

Jock McLean appeared behind Neil, grinning in his usual annoying fashion.

‘Oh,’ said Christopher. ‘It’s you.’

‘Andrea’s his ex-wife,’ said Jock helpfully.

‘So you ran away from Neil’s ex-wife’s husband?’ said Christopher to Amaryllis.

‘So there’s somebody with a connection to Pitkirtly and a reason to want Liam dead,’ she said in excitement. ‘I think we need more toast.’