No Stranger to Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 1 (9 page)

‘It was more of a chat than an interview. Who told you?’

‘I saw Erskine Mather yesterday as well, after Chrissie’s car was found.’

‘And there was me about to rant about village gossip again.’

‘I would certainly have found out that way if I hadn’t heard it straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. I asked him to call round again and he came straight here after going to look at the car.’

‘You were about to tell me why you wanted to see him when Zoe came in,’ Walter said. He made it sound as if she had interrupted their conversation on purpose.

‘I can have this in my room,’ Zoe said, picking up her mug.

‘You don’t need to go,’ Paul said. ‘You’re one of the team now, isn’t she, Walter?’

Walter shifted in his seat and nodded half-heartedly. ‘So why did you need to see Mather again?’

‘There was something I wanted to tell him about Chrissie Baird.’ Paul said. ‘I wouldn’t normally have broken her confidence and there’s still young Alice to consider. However, it was so out of character that I thought the police ought to be told, in case it has a bearing on their investigation.’

Zoe took a mouthful of coffee and suppressed a shudder.

‘You won’t find any reference to this in her notes,’ Paul continued, ‘but Chrissie came to see me some months ago. She wanted to talk about AIDS.’

‘She thought she may have contracted AIDS?’ Zoe asked.

‘No, that’s not what she said. But she asked a lot of questions, like how the disease is transmitted, what the riskiest sexual practices are, that sort of thing.’

‘Without explaining why she wanted to know?’ Walter sounded impatient.

‘She claimed to be asking on behalf of a friend who’d discovered her husband was having an affair and was worried about the risks to herself. And while we’re all familiar with patients who insist someone else has the problem which is actually their own, it’s difficult to imagine that applies in this case. Poor old Jimmy hasn’t been capable of having sex with anyone for quite some time.’

‘There’s a rumour going around that Chrissie was having an affair,’ Zoe said. ‘I heard it mentioned in the pub the other night. Perhaps she was worried about putting herself at risk.’

‘You’re starting to be a good source of gossip too,’ Paul said. ‘I hadn’t heard that one. Had you, Walter?’

‘I try not to listen to idle chitchat. Anyway, it sounds like the police have got their man.’

‘I’ll be very surprised if young Tom turns out to be the culprit,’ Paul said.

‘They must have compelling evidence to have arrested him,’ Walter said. ‘I haven’t ever met the lad. He’s your patient, isn’t he, Paul?’

‘And has been since he was a baby. He suffered from terrible acne as a teenager, but apart from that I’ve hardly seen him, though I know the family well, of course. In my opinion, the police are heading off in entirely the wrong direction if they think Tom had anything to do with this awful business.’

‘Jean must be devastated,’ Zoe said. ‘Let’s hope they see sense and release him quickly.’

‘Pardon me for being old-fashioned,’ Walter said, ‘but I think we should trust the police to do the right thing.’

Zoe bit back what she wanted to say.

Paul stood up. ‘Sorry to rush off, but I’m going to see Jean. She’s trying to be strong, for the girls and to stop her mother from realising there’s something amiss, but this is taking its toll on her.’

Zoe tried to make conversation with Walter in order to fill the silence left by Paul’s departure. She thought she had succeeded, as he launched into a spirited description of the work his daughter, also a doctor, was doing at a London hospital. Then he slid the brown file in front of him along the table to her.

‘There’s a backlog of these,’ he said, his tone implying this was Zoe’s fault. ‘Deal with them, will you?’

Zoe opened the file and flicked through the pile of forms sent in by insurance companies requesting reports on patients who were either taking out new policies or claiming on existing ones. Some of them were dated several weeks ago.

‘As quick as you can.’ Walter was already on his feet, making for the kitchen door. As he grasped the handle, the door opened and Margaret rushed in.

‘Oh Doctors, thank goodness you’re still here,’ she said. ‘When did Doctor Paul leave? I’ve got Jean on the phone. Her mother’s had an accident, and she doesn’t know whether to call an ambulance or wait for him to arrive.’

Chapter 10

Paul’s directions were spot-on: take a left at the church, right at the hall, and it’s the third bungalow on the left. Zoe saw Jean’s anxious face at one of the windows as she parked the car, and the front door was open before she had locked up.

‘Doctor Zoe, this is so kind of you. I’ve tried to phone Tom’s parents and his sister but no one’s answering. And I haven’t got their mobile numbers.’

‘Like I told Paul when he rang, I’m happy to help.’

‘But you must’ve only just got home, and now you’ve had to come out again.’

‘It’s no problem. Mac’s in the car. I thought the girls might like to play with him later.’

Jean led Zoe through a hot, stuffy hall, where a pair of walking sticks stood propped up against a radiator and a patch of carpet showed dark against the rest. Her nose no longer blocked, Zoe could smell disinfectant. She would open the windows as soon as Jean left.

They went into the kitchen, which felt slightly cooler. Its basket-weave cupboard doors and orange walls looked dated, but every surface was clean and uncluttered. Zoe heard a burst of childish laughter coming from one of the other rooms.

‘Doctor Paul’s keeping the girls busy in the lounge,’ Jean said. ‘Now you’re here he’s going to take me to Borders General to be with Mum when she has her x-ray. We had a terrible job persuading her into the ambulance when she realised I wasn’t travelling with her, but I’ve promised to get there as quickly as I can. And I’ll come back as soon as possible.’

‘Take as long as you need,’ Zoe said. ‘But before you go, tell me what the girls like to eat.’ A few minutes later, feeling a lot less confident than she tried to appear but bolstered by knowing she was capable of preparing the twins’ favourite meal, she followed Jean to the lounge.

The room was dominated by a framed poster of Dali’s Christ on the Cross hanging above the mantelpiece. The only other ornament was a photograph recording Jean’s first communion. She had been a pretty child and resembled a miniature bride, dressed all in white, clutching a bible.

Paul Ryder was on his knees being pelted with cushions by two shrieking little girls. The game ceased abruptly as the twins, identical in every respect including their clothes, looked up at the newcomer. Paul got to his feet, tucking his shirt into his trousers.

‘Angie, Maddy, this is Doctor Zoe,’ Jean said. ‘She’s come to stay with you while me and Doctor Paul go out for a wee while. Say hello.’

The twins studied Zoe for a few seconds then both said, ‘Hello’.

Zoe bent down and said, ‘I’ve got my doggy out in the car. He’s called Mac. We can play with him later, if you want.’

The little girls rushed to Jean and peered fearfully from behind her skirt. One of them asked in a voice not far from tears, ‘Where’s Daddy?’

‘He’ll be back soon,’ Jean said, wrapping her arms around them both. ‘Come on. Let’s show Doctor Zoe where the biscuits are kept, shall we?’

Holding a biscuit tin made Zoe much less scary. She and the twins returned to the lounge while Jean and Paul drove away, and soon they were showing her the contents of their toy box. By three-thirty she had been let into the secret of how to tell them apart (a tiny scar on the bridge of Maddy’s nose, the result of a fall when she was learning to walk) and at four o’clock she made them all tea. It was a long time since she had last eaten fish fingers and baked beans. After tea, exhausted by a busy afternoon in a warm house, dog and children slept on the sofa and Zoe relaxed drowsily in the armchair next to them.

She came to when she heard the front door open and a voice call, ‘Jeanie, I’m back’.

Mac leapt from the sofa, his growl low enough not to wake the girls. He pushed open the lounge door and pelted up the hall. Zoe followed, coming face to face with a short, powerfully-built man wearing green camouflage trousers and a black polo neck sweater. His crew-cut hair was greying at the sides and he wore a gold stud in one earlobe.

Recognition spread over his face when he saw Zoe. ‘Doctor Moreland. Is everything okay? Where’s Jean?’

‘Hello,’ Zoe said. ‘You must be Tom. I don’t think we’ve met.’

‘Aye, I’m Tom. Jean pointed you out in the Co-op one day, though you didn’t see us. Where is she? And what about my girls?’

‘The twins are fine.’ Confirming this, two small bodies pushed past her and raced to put their arms up to Tom, shouting, ‘Daddy, Daddy!’

‘Come and sit down and I’ll explain what’s happened,’ Zoe said.

Tom, with one twin balanced on his hip and holding the hand of the other, followed her into the lounge.

‘Jean’s gone to the BGH. Her mother had an accident,’ Zoe said.

‘She fell over, the old lady did,’ Angie said.

‘She cried,’ her sister said. ‘She wasn’t brave.’

‘When you’re old things can hurt a lot,’ Tom said. ‘Now, you two, haud yer wheesht and let the doctor finish.’

‘Luckily, Paul Ryder was already on his way over,’ Zoe said. ‘He thought Mrs Hensward’s wrist was fractured, so he called an ambulance, and as soon as I arrived to look after the girls he took Jean to the hospital too. That was a few hours ago, so I would expect –’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh God, I’d forgotten where you’ve been. Are you all right? How did it go with the police?’

Tom cast his eyes towards his daughters, saying nothing.

‘Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’

‘Girls, I’m going to make a cup of tea for me and the doctor. You stay and play with her dog. What’s his name?’

‘Mac!’ chorused the reply.

‘You play with Mac and I’ll see you in a few minutes.’

Normality having been restored with the return of their father, Angie and Maddy were happy to let him go out of the room, on condition that he left the door open and promised to bring them biscuits. They restarted what had been the afternoon’s favourite game, trying to roll a ball between them without Mac intercepting it.

‘Thanks for looking after them, Doctor,’ Tom said as he put the kettle on. ‘Jeanie wouldn’t have left them with just anyone. She thinks a lot of you, she does.’

‘I’ve not had much experience with children outside the surgery, but the twins have been brilliant. They’re a credit to you.’

Tom smiled briefly, then sank heavily onto a stool, his shoulder hunched. ‘I know Jean spoke to you about the trouble I’m having,’ he said. ‘It’s terrible for her. She’s got enough on her plate with her mother.’

‘It must be awful for you too.’

‘The worst part was having the police arrive before we were even up. Why did they need to do that? Then I had to watch them go through our things. Not only mine, but the girls’ too. I couldn’t believe it.’

‘What were they looking for?’

‘Damned if I know. They took away a basket of clothes waiting to be washed, some pairs of boots, and an off-cut of carpet one of my customers gave me when I mentioned I was doing up the spare room so the girls can have a bedroom each. Oh, and a poppy they found on the hall table.’

‘A Remembrance Day poppy?’ Zoe felt guilty for asking all these questions, but Tom seemed keen to talk.

‘Aye, like the ones Chrissie was out selling on Sunday. Dead excited they were when they spotted it. I’d already told them I didn’t see her that day, so they reckoned they’d caught me out. I told them she’s got a key so she’ll have let herself in and left it there. Probably took money out of my change pot for it too, knowing her.’

Tom pulled out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Jean hates me smoking in the house, but I don’t suppose she’ll mind this once.’

‘I’m a doctor and even I wouldn’t try to stop you today.’

He reached into his pocket and drew out a book of matches, its cover advertising an Indian restaurant in Berwick. He had to strike several before one caught without breaking. ‘Free but useless,’ he said, dropping the matchbook back into his pocket.

They both took gulps of tea.

‘I suppose it’s all over the village, me being taken in,’ Tom said.

Unwilling to confirm this, Zoe said, ‘The police haven’t publicly stated it was you they arrested.’

‘I wasn’t arrested, just detained.’

‘Sorry,’ Zoe said. ‘I didn’t realise there was a difference.’

‘No one does. I didn’t until today. They don’t arrest you until they’ve got enough evidence to charge you.’

‘Did they provide you with a solicitor?’

‘They offered to, but why would I need one? I didn’t kill Chrissie, so they’ll not find any proof that I did.’

‘Even so . . .’

‘I managed fine on my own. They were very polite. It’s not the same as on the telly.’ Tom reached for his cigarette and Zoe noticed that although his hands were well-scrubbed, there were dark deposits under the short nails. ‘The bloke in charge – Mather – I knew him years ago.’

‘From when he was going out with Kate?’

‘I was forgetting you’re friendly with her. Aye, me and Skinny Mather met several times back then, but he behaved today as though he’d never seen me before.’

‘I don’t suppose he’d do anything that could put you at ease. They might not have been banging on the table, demanding that you confess, but they’d still want you to feel under pressure.’

‘They kept asking where I went on the day Chrissie disappeared, and who I saw. Just my luck the girls were at a party in the afternoon and Jean had taken her mum out, so I was alone.’ Tom pulled off his sweater, revealing a blue T-shirt with short sleeves. His upper arms were muscular, the right one adorned with a tattoo of a crab. ‘They laughed when I told them I stayed at home, catching up with the housework. I’m a single parent. Who do they think does it for me?’

‘Kate reckons Chrissie’s body must have been put in the bonfire during Sunday night. The twins were home by then, I expect.’