No Stranger to Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 1 (25 page)

Chapter 30

As promised, Tom arrived not long after breakfast on Wednesday. He turned down the offer of tea or coffee until he was finished, and before long the fireplace was swathed in sheeting except for a gap at the woodburner’s front, like a patient prepped for surgery. Zoe asked how Jean was.

Tom looked up from taping the sheet’s edge to the hearth. ‘She’s behaving like everything’s back to normal, but I think that’s just putting on a brave face for me and the girls.’

‘We all grieve in different ways.’

‘Aye. It’s always been Jean’s way to keep busy, but I don’t think she should be sorting out her Mum’s things so soon. I found her in floods of tears yesterday because some of Bonnie’s bits and pieces have gone missing.’

‘Anything valuable?’

‘No, mainly junk. A brooch, a key ring, a few photos. You ken the sort of things old folk hang on to.’

Zoe glanced down at the diamond-chip eternity ring she always wore. It had little monetary worth but she cherished it because her gran had made her accept it a few days before she died.

‘Losing Bonnie so suddenly would’ve been bad enough, but now I’ve brought all this extra worry into her life. She doesn’t deserve it, not Jeanie. She’s never hurt anyone.’

‘It’s not your fault either.’

Tom didn’t reply. He opened the metre-long tube he had brought with him and pulled out several plastic rods. Zoe watched as he attached a brush to the first one, inserted it into the woodburner then pushed it upwards. As this disappeared up the chimney, Tom screwed on another rod, then another and another. After using six rods he turned to Zoe.

‘Will you go outside and chap on the window when you see the brush come out of the pot?’

After standing in the cold for several minutes, looking up at the cottage’s chimney, Zoe was relieved to see Tom’s brush appear. She knocked on the window and gave him a thumbs-up, then hurried back in to put on the kettle.

‘That needed done,’ Tom said as they sipped coffee a few minutes later. ‘You’re lucky the chimney hasn’t gone on fire by now.’

Zoe took a deep breath. He might tell her to mind her own business, but she would risk it. ‘Tom, what’s happening with Alice?’ she asked.

‘I talked to her again the day after you and Kate came round, offered her the chance to see the twins whenever she’s up here. I even said they could maybe visit her in Newcastle when they got used to her.’

‘Is she happy with that arrangement?’

Tom rubbed at a smudge of soot on his cheek. ‘She’s threatening to go to a solicitor. She can afford one now. And he’ll make me give up the twins completely.’

‘But you’ve looked after them brilliantly on your own – everyone says so. And you and Jean getting married can only help.’

‘It’s a problem of my own making. I must thole it.’

This was a new expression to Zoe, but she got the gist. ‘You aren’t the only one who’d suffer. Do you really think Angie and Maddy would be better off with their mother?’

‘No. But if I fight her she’ll get them anyway, and I’ll lose Jean too.’

‘Why would that happen? Jean’s devoted to you.’

As Tom stared out of the window and chewed on a fingernail, Zoe could sense the battle raging inside him, the need to share his dilemma versus the fear of revealing the hold Chrissie Baird – and now her daughter – had over him.

‘Whatever it is, I promise you I’ve heard worse.’

He turned back to her and for an instant it looked as if he was about to tell all. But instead he put down his mug and lifted the tube holding his rods and brush. ‘I should go. I’ve got a lot of customers to see. It’s always the same after a cold snap.’

Once outside, he withdrew his cigarettes and a matchbook from his overalls. The matchbook must have been empty because he stared at it, made a face, then returned it to his pocket and brought out a lighter. He trudged to the small white van and flung his tools in the back.

In an attempt to shrug off the downcast mood she was in after Tom’s visit, Zoe decided to push her own and other people’s problems out of her mind by visiting Kelso. She had got into the habit of going there nearly every week, but had not made the trip since her car crash. The waitress at the café smiled in recognition and invited her to sit at what Zoe now considered ‘her’ table, overlooking the cobbled square and the pleasingly symmetrical town hall built of pale stone.

She had enjoyed a cheese scone and was pouring the remainder of the coffee into her cup when her mobile rang. It was Neil.

‘Made your mind up yet?’

‘I thought I’d already accepted your invitation for Saturday.’

‘No, not that. Your kitchen. We need to start working on it soon if it’s to be done and fitted by Christmas.’

‘Oh. You mean this is one of those kitchen-company sales calls.’

‘I didn’t think you’d appreciate me ringing simply to tell you how much I’m looking forward to our date.’

‘Well you’re wrong. I’ve managed to upset so many people this week it’s nice to hear a friendly voice.’

‘That doesn’t sound like you. What’s happened?’

‘It’s too complicated to go into.’

There was a brief silence; Zoe wondered if she had lost reception. Then Neil said, ‘I was beginning to think I’d got the hang of this courting lark but now you’ve clammed up on me again.’

‘Please don’t let’s argue. I’m looking forward to Saturday too.’

After he rang off, Zoe sat looking out at the people walking past the café window. She saw no familiar faces and try as she might, she didn’t feel at home here. Perhaps she’d expected too much.

The rest of the week dragged by, although Zoe was kept busy working additional sessions to cover for Walter, who had taken a few days off to visit his mother in Wales. She also paid daily visits to the coach house where Gerry Hall’s men were at last making headway on the conversion. During one of those trips, on impulse, she walked up to Larimer Hall. There was no sign of Neil but Peter took her through to the showroom and left her to wander around the kitchen displays, trying to choose between natural wood and a hand-painted Shaker style.

Although they exchanged numerous texts, she saw little of Kate, who was spending much of her time in Edinburgh, looking up records at the ScotlandsPeople ancestry centre. She tried to persuade Zoe to join her one day, but despite the temptation of lunch at Harvey Nichols and shopping for a new outfit, Zoe declined. Saturday night was, after all, only a meal with a friend at a local restaurant. There was no need to buy special clothes for it.

However, she regretted that decision when Saturday came, as none of her existing outfits seemed to fit the occasion. After trying on endless combinations of skirts and tops, she settled on a pair of black trousers with a red silk blouse. She brushed her hair for a long time then let it swing loose.

At seven-fifteen, she realised she did not know Neil well enough to judge whether his being a quarter of an hour late was usual. At seven-thirty she rang Larimer Hall and got no reply, and a subsequent call to Neil’s mobile went straight to voicemail. By eight o’clock, she could not stay still or concentrate on a book, due to extreme annoyance combined with a similar degree of worry.

Just as she decided she had been stood up, Mac started to bark. Zoe checked her reflection in the mirror above the bookcase then peered out of the sitting room window.

Constable Geddes was approaching her front door.

Chapter 31

The young policeman walked slowly, an apprehensive look on his face. Zoe raced to the front door and flung it open, heart pounding.

‘What’s happened?’

‘DCI Mather sent me to fetch you.’

‘Why?’

‘There’s been an incident. In the village.’

‘Oh my God. Is it Neil – Mr Pengelly? I was expecting him over an hour ago.’

‘You’ll see him when you get there.’

‘But is he all right? I’m not going anywhere until I know.’

‘He’s unhurt.’

They drove the short distance to the village in silence. Geddes had obviously been told not to discuss anything with Zoe so she did not press him, but the journey felt longer than it ever had before.

Several police vehicles were parked along Main Street and an ambulance stood with its doors open. A uniformed constable restrained a small group of people gathered on the pavement opposite. Neil’s Land Rover was parked directly outside the shop, its owner leant against the bonnet smoking a cigarette and staring at the ground, watched by a policewoman who stood a short distance away from him.

As soon as Geddes stopped the car, Zoe leapt out and ran across the road to Neil. He was wearing a leather jacket she had never seen before over a pale shirt with some sort of dark pattern down the front. As she got closer, the pattern started to look like bloodstains.

‘Neil!’

He looked up and attempted a smile. ‘Hi.’ The hand holding his cigarette shook.

‘What’s happened?’

‘She’s killed him.’

Zoe thought she had misheard. ‘What did you say?’

The policewoman stepped towards them.

Neil ground his cigarette into the road with a heel. ‘Lisa’s killed Brian. Stabbed him.’

‘Mr Pengelly, you were asked not to discuss the matter with anyone.’ The policewoman turned her attention to Zoe. ‘Are you Doctor Moreland?’

‘Yes.’

‘Please come with me.’

‘I need to talk to Mr Pengelly.’

‘I’m to take you to DCI Mather straightaway.’

Lisa’s killed Brian
. Zoe tried to concentrate on what was being said to her, but those words filled her head.
Lisa’s killed Brian
.

‘I wanted to bring you flowers,’ Neil said. ‘But the shop was closed, so I went round to the house door. They’ve opened up before, when we’ve run out of things. And –’

‘Mr Pengelly!’ The policewoman took Zoe by the arm and led her towards the shop’s entrance. ‘Stay there,’ she called to Neil over her shoulder.

Once inside, Zoe had to retreat into one of the aisles to allow several police officers to pass by. No one spoke. Her escort positioned her in front of the delicatessen counter and disappeared through the door into the stockroom, returning seconds later.

‘The DCI will be with you shortly.’

Instead of his usual patent-leather shoes and stylish suit, Mather wore a pair of chunky suede boots, black corduroy trousers and a thick burgundy sweater.

‘Thank you for coming, Doctor Moreland.’

‘Why am I here?’

‘What have you been told?

‘Lisa’s killed Brian. That’s all I know.’

‘That’s how it appears. Mrs Humphreys has been asking for you. She refuses to speak to anyone else. Is she your patient?’

‘No, not really.’

Mather raised his eyebrows.

‘I mean, she’s not registered with us, but I’ve been advising her.’

‘On a medical matter?’

‘I’d rather not say.’

‘It may help her.’

‘Can’t I see her first?’

The policeman nodded. ‘As far as we can ascertain she isn’t injured, but she won’t let a paramedic near her to check.’

‘I haven’t brought my bag, so I can’t give her any medication, if that’s what you want.’

‘I just want you to talk to her, calm her down.’

Lisa’s killed Brian
.

Zoe glanced into the kitchen as she was escorted along the hall. Several people dressed in white coveralls stood talking in muted voices on either side of a hotchpotch of bloody footprints at the doorway. Further inside the room, a pair of bare legs lay on the floor, one foot clad in a leather slipper. The rest of Brian’s body was hidden from view by a run of cupboards.

Mather touched her arm, guiding her forward. ‘Constable Gray will stay with you,’ he said, as they halted outside a closed door.

‘Can’t I talk to her alone?’ Zoe asked.

‘It’s for both your sakes.’

He pushed the door open and Zoe stepped into a narrow sitting-room lit by a single table lamp. High-pitched keening came from a figure rocking backwards and forwards in an armchair.

Lisa looked up when Zoe spoke her name. Her face was streaked with blood, which also had also soaked the front of her clothes, turning much of the yellow blouse orange and her jeans a dark purple.

Zoe turned to the constable standing beside the door. ‘Can’t she at least be allowed to wash and put on clean clothes?’

‘Not until she’s been examined. Evidence.’

The room was suddenly quiet. Zoe went over and placed a hand on the girl’s back. ‘Don’t be frightened, Lisa. I’m here now to look after you.’

The rocking stopped and Lisa turned to face Zoe, squinting through swollen eyelids. ‘What’s going to happen to me, Doctor Moreland?’

Zoe knelt down beside the armchair. ‘We’re going to sit here until you’re feeling a bit better, and then we’ll go and get you cleaned up.’

‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid he is.’

‘I had to do it, or he would have killed my baby.’

Zoe glanced towards the policeman watching them. ‘Shush, there’s no need to talk about that now.’

‘You understand, don’t you, Doctor? You know what he was trying to make me do.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘You’ll tell them why I had to do it, won’t you? They’ll believe you.’

‘I’ll make sure they understand. I promise.’

It had not taken long for the press to arrive; several cameras flashed as Zoe and Lisa were led outside. Once in the car that would take them to police headquarters at Hawick, Lisa leaned against Zoe, quiet now. They passed few other vehicles on the road, and an aura of unreality descended in the silence and darkness. It felt as if they would be in that car forever, travelling but never arriving. Then they slowed right down and Zoe was brought back to reality by a blaze of flashlights from several more cameras. They had reached their destination.

Zoe promised Lisa she would see her again after Lisa’s examination by the police doctor, then a middle-aged policewoman led her away. Zoe was escorted to an interview room and told she would not be kept long. Mather arrived a few minutes later carrying an A4 pad and a pen. He had removed his sweater to reveal a blue paisley-patterned shirt. She doubted he owned a T-shirt.