No Stranger to Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 1 (8 page)

No one just passed Keeper’s Cottage
. Zoe felt certain he had been hoping Kate would be there. ‘Of course I don’t want you to go, Kate.’

Turning her attention to Mather, she asked, ‘The body – was it Chrissie Baird?’

‘Dental records have confirmed that it was.’

‘Told you,’ Kate said, looking a little too pleased with herself. ‘How did she die?’

Mather hesitated. ‘I can only tell you what’s going to be public knowledge.’

Zoe and Kate nodded in unison, urging him to continue.

‘She incurred an injury to her head.’

Both women stayed silent, expecting more. Eventually, Zoe said, ‘So she wasn’t alive when she was put in the bonfire?’

Mather did not respond.

‘You’re not sharing everything, are you?’ Kate said.

‘Tell me there was no smoke in her lungs,’ Zoe said.

‘There was no smoke in her lungs.’

Kate and Zoe started to speak at the same time. Mather held up a hand. ‘As I said, I can only tell you what we’re making public. Please don’t ask for more details.’

‘All right,’ Zoe said. ‘But can you explain why the body didn’t burn up? Even taking account of the rain, there was still a lot more of her left than I’d have expected. Nearly everything else was reduced to ashes.’

Again the response from Mather was unsatisfactory. ‘She’d been wrapped up tightly in something.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t say.’

‘When did she die?’
It felt like they were playing some ghoulish parlour game
.

Kate broke in before Mather could reply. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. Chrissie was seen going about the village on Sunday morning with her poppies. And they didn’t finish building the bonfire until Sunday afternoon, although he wouldn’t have risked putting her in during daylight anyway. I realise the site can’t be seen from the road, but it’s overlooked by the pub –’

‘And is completely open to anyone walking across the field,’ Zoe added.

‘So she must have been killed after Sunday lunch,’ Kate continued, ‘then kept somewhere and put in the bonfire during Sunday night. It gets dark very early now, so that could have been any time from about four o’clock.’

‘You’ve given this a lot of thought,’ Mather said.

Kate looked indignant. ‘Of course I have. This is my home. As I told Zoe, no one would travel to Westerlea just to hide a body in its Guy Fawkes bonfire. The murderer must come from around here, and as I know nearly everybody, I probably know him. It could be someone I drink with in the pub or speak to in the shop, or perhaps my children go to school with his.’

Her voice had become very loud. Mather made a slight downwards gesture with his left hand, and for the first time Zoe noticed he wore a narrow silver band on his ring finger.

Kate frowned but her tone became softer; their old signal still worked. ‘I can’t ignore what’s happening in my own community.’

‘I appreciate any ideas you can pass on to me, but that’s where it has to end,’ Mather said.

‘You should be pleased we’re trying to help.’

‘I have a team of experienced officers working to find out who killed Mrs Baird. You can best help by reining in that curiosity of yours.’

Kate was not going to be put off so easily. ‘Genealogy is very similar to police work. Every day I’m ferreting around in old records, trying to fill in the gaps and make connections between people. You should recruit me to your team, not scold me.’ She grinned at the policeman and after a couple of seconds he smiled back. The pair stared at each other for so long, Zoe started to feel left out.

At last Mather said, ‘I mean it, Kate.’

‘I believe you had more questions to ask me?’ Zoe said.

He turned his attention back to her. ‘Kate’s right, Mrs Baird was out selling Remembrance Day poppies on Sunday after church. She dropped into the pub at around one o’clock and told Mr and Mrs Anderson she was returning home for lunch. We don’t know where she went after that. Did either of you see her?’

‘It was a lovely day, so I put Mac into the car, drove to Kelso and took him for a long walk by the river,’ Zoe said. ‘Then I went straight on to Tolbyres Farm for a meal with Kate and her parents. I didn’t see Chrissie, but I suppose she could have called round while I was out.’

‘She definitely didn’t come to see me,’ Kate said. ‘We were at home all day until we went to Mum’s. And Mum didn’t see her either.’

‘Was she on foot or in her car?’ Zoe asked. ‘Perhaps she only visited places she could walk to.’

‘That’s where things start to get complicated,’ Mather said.

‘What do you mean?’ Kate asked.

‘Mrs Baird’s car is missing.’

‘Missing?’ Kate shook her head. ‘No, that can’t be right, or she wouldn’t have been put in Westerlea’s bonfire. If she’d gone somewhere in her car, the person who killed her would have hidden her further away, not brought her right back where she came from.’

‘It isn’t where it should be.’

‘You do know she kept it in a garage, not in front of her house like everyone else? It’s at the end of the village, opposite the war memorial.’

‘Mr Baird told us about the garage and we’ve checked it out. All that’s in it is a large patch of oil.’

‘He must know if his wife was intending to go out in her car,’ Zoe said.

‘She told him she was driving to Newcastle later in the day, but he has no idea if she planned to use it before then. He returned home around four o’clock and, as he expected, she wasn’t there.’

‘Although, according to gossip, she wasn’t due at her daughter’s until Monday night,’ Kate said.

‘Apparently so,’ Mather said. ‘Another mystery.’

Kate and Zoe exchanged looks.

‘It’s only a rumour,’ Kate said, ‘but there’s been talk of Chrissie having an affair.’

‘In which case, the obvious reason for her lying to her husband must be because she planned to spend Sunday night away with her lover,’ Zoe added.

‘Do either of you know who this person could be?’

‘Don’t ask me,’ Zoe said. ‘I probably spent longer with her dead than alive. I only know about this lover theory because someone brought it up in The Rocket the other night.’

‘That was the first time I heard anyone suggest it as well,’ Kate said. ‘I checked with Mum and it’s news to her too.’

A mobile phone started to ring. Mather unfolded his overcoat and reached into a pocket. He answered with his name, listened, then said, ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

He stood up.

‘Has something happened?’ Zoe asked.

‘They’ve found Mrs Baird’s car.’

‘Where?’ Kate asked.

The policeman concentrated on putting on his coat.

‘Why won’t you say?’ Kate’s voice had got loud again.

Mather sighed. ‘You’ll find out soon enough anyway. Behind an old barn at Heartsease Fields.’

Kate stood up. ‘I’m coming with you.’

‘No, I don’t want you involved. Let me deal with it.’ He strode out of the room.

‘He must realise this means I’m already involved,’ Kate told Zoe.

‘In what way? Is Heartsease Fields on your father’s land?’

‘Heartsease Farm belongs to Mum’s brother, Uncle Billy. He’s Tom’s father. If they already suspect Tom, this can only make things worse for him.’

Chapter 9

Driving to work in the rain on Friday morning, Zoe practiced saying a phrase she had heard a lot since moving to the Borders: ‘It’s a dreich day’. But no matter how many times she repeated it, the Scots expression continued to sound phoney coming from her lips.

Despite the weather and her inability to describe it in the local dialect, she felt almost cheerful. A distinctive yellow van she’d seen speeding in the direction of Larimer Park gave credence to Gerry Hall’s assurance last night that his men would be back at the coach house today. Her anxiety over Neil was abating too, although she kept warning herself not to misinterpret being flattered by his attention as the onset of other, deeper feelings for him.

The news headlines came on the radio as she pulled into the health centre’s car park. Unsure what to expect, the discovery of Chrissie’s car having been reported at length the previous evening, she was astonished to hear the words, ‘A local man is helping the police with their enquiries into the death of retired Westerlea pub landlady Chrissie Baird’. Perhaps because the story was just breaking, or maybe in deference to legal restrictions, the report gave few details except that the man had been taken for questioning to police headquarters in Hawick. Whatever Mather had found in Chrissie’s car, it must have been significant to result in an arrest so soon.

A medical practice is rarely busier than first thing in the morning. Walter started his morning surgeries at eight thirty, and the telephone would have been ringing since eight with requests for home visits, repeat prescriptions and urgent appointments. So Zoe was surprised to find the front desk unmanned and Margaret and Penny huddled together in the area where patients’ old paper files were archived. Deep in conversation and facing away from reception, they only noticed Zoe when she stood behind them and cleared her throat.

Penny turned round, clutching a tissue. ‘Oh Doctor Zoe, isn’t it terrible?’

Zoe tried to think which patient had been ill enough to have died, but drew a blank. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked, putting down her briefcase.

‘It’s Tom, Jean’s Tom. They’ve arrested him. For the murder.’

Zoe’s stomach lurched; Kate had been right to be worried about her cousin. She was about to ask more when the phone rang. Margaret pushed the younger woman towards the front desk to answer it.

Margaret was calmer than Penny, having worked at the same job for thirty-six years and dealt efficiently with the frequent episodes of sickness, disaster and death suffered by others throughout that time. Even so, she was obviously upset, her breathing laboured as she spoke.

‘Haven’t you heard, Doctor? It was on the news this morning.’

‘I caught the headlines on the radio just now, but they didn’t say who had been arrested. How do you know it’s Tom?’

Margaret’s breath rattled in her throat. ‘Jean rang – in a terrible state she was. Penny had to fetch me, because she could hardly tell what Jean was saying. The police went round to Tom’s house very early and searched it from top to bottom. Then they drove him to Hawick, after telling Jean to collect the twins.’

‘What did they find that made them arrest him?’

‘I couldn’t get much sense out of her. I think she said they were taking away his clothes and some rubbish he kept in his shed. But I could be wrong. The lassie was crying that much.’

‘Is there anything we can do to help her?’ Zoe regretted being so positive in her reassurances to Jean a couple of days ago. Here was proof, as if she needed any, that she was the least qualified person in the world to advise someone when it came to dealing with the police.

‘Doctor Ryder’s going to stop by to see her when he’s out visiting patients later on. She’s had to take the girls home and her mum won’t like them being there. She’ll not understand.’

Penny rejoined them, absentmindedly clutching a piece of paper on which she had written a repeat prescription request. Zoe gently took the note from the girl and placed it in a box containing several others. She glanced at her watch.

‘My patients will start to arrive any minute now, so we’d better get ready for them. I recognise how upsetting this is for everyone, but the best thing we can do is try to make it business as usual. Tom hasn’t been named publicly as the person who’s been arrested, so nobody will be coming in asking awkward questions.’

Penny and Margaret went their separate ways, Penny to open the post and Margaret to greet the patient who was approaching the reception desk. Zoe walked to her consulting room. She knew as soon as her first patient, an octogenarian with wispy hair and a surprisingly unlined face, started to speak that her confidence in Tom’s arrest not being common knowledge had been misplaced.

‘The other receptionist, that Jean, she’ll no’ be working th’day, what with the trouble her man’s in, eh?’

‘Now you know I can’t talk about that Mrs Dalby. What seems to be the problem? Is your leg still painful?’

The old lady’s brow wrinkled. ‘Ah cannae understand your English accent, hen. Speak slower, won’t you?’

Zoe spent much of the next two hours parrying attempts, some blatant, some more subtle, to discover what she could add to this latest development. The media may not have named Tom Watson as the man who had been arrested, but the local bush telegraph had no such scruples.

When her final patient took his leave with the comment, ‘Tell Jean I was asking after her,’ she leaned back in her chair, arms dangling over the sides, relieved the session was over.

The two partners were already in the practice’s small kitchen when Zoe got there. Paul greeted her warmly; Walter wordlessly pulled out a chair.

‘Zoe, my dear, let me make you a coffee,’ Paul said.

‘Thanks, I need it.’

She sat down next to Walter, who stared at a brown folder on the table.

‘I expect the ladies have put you in the picture about Jean,’ Paul said, as he stood waiting for the kettle to boil.

‘Yes, thank goodness, or I wouldn’t have known what most of my patients were talking about. Were yours fishing for information too?’

Walter met her gaze for the first time. ‘Some of them were, but no doubt not as much as yours.’

‘Why is that? You’ve both been here a lot longer than me.’

‘That’s not how it works,’ Walter said. ‘You’re connected, see, what with finding the body. You’re expected to be more clued up than the rest of us.’

‘But as I keep on telling everyone, including the police, I don’t know anything,’ Zoe said. ‘I hadn’t even heard it was Tom who’d been arrested until I got here.’ She smiled her thanks for the coffee Paul passed her. It would be weaker and far more milky than she liked it, but in common with everyone else faced with a drink prepared by him, she would swallow it down without complaint.

Paul returned to his seat. ‘I hear you were interviewed by the police again yesterday,’ he said.