Too Soon a Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 2 (28 page)

Early in the evening, Dod Affleck arrived with a box of food from Etta. He also delivered the news that Kate had started to complain about being bored, so Etta had suggested Zoe might like to visit her the next day.

‘It must be hard for her to just lie in bed,’ Zoe said. ‘I’ll look out some books to take over.’

‘She’s never been one to do nothing,’ Dod said. ‘She was up a stepladder painting her kitchen less than a week after little Mhairi arrived. Mind, that could be something to do with the numpty she married.’

‘Has Ken been back since he turned up the day after the fire?’

‘Aye, twice, but auld man Mackenzie wasn’t going to let him take the bairns off the farm, so he just sat outside wi’em.’

After Dod left, Zoe sorted through Etta’s box of goodies. She put the plain sponge straight into the freezer, on top of half a dozen fruit scones. The bag of tablet and plastic box of shortbread went into a cupboard, and the fridge was the only place to keep eggs in the current heat. It wasn’t until she cut herself a wedge of chocolate cake with frosted icing and glanced down, expecting to see Mac looking pleadingly up at her, that she realised he wasn’t there. She called for him but he didn’t come running as usual.

Trying to keep control of her rising panic, she searched all over the house for the dog, then in the garden. The gate was still firmly shut, but a short distance from it she spotted a hole in the ground, disappearing under the wire fence. Mac had found the siren call of the dead badger so irresistible that he’d spent most of the afternoon digging his way out. And she hadn’t even noticed.

Still wearing her flip flops, she rushed out to the road. There was no sign of Mac but she knew from this morning which direction he would have gone in. She found him a few minutes later, too busy rolling around on the badger’s carcase at the side of the road to realise she was there until she grabbed his collar. A cloud of flies flew up as she pulled the dog from his new plaything, then settled back down on it.

Regretting she’d left through the side gate and hadn’t picked up a lead from the hall, she dragged Mac along the road. They were both going to need a second shower.

She heard a car’s engine and looked up in time to see the blue Fiesta veer onto the grass verge on her side of the road.

It was heading straight for her.

Zoe didn’t react at first. Her brain couldn’t accept what she was seeing, that the car wasn’t slowing down or changing direction. By the time she grasped the situation, it was close enough for her to recognise the driver. He wore a red hoodie today but the dark glasses were the same.

She couldn’t run in her flip flops, and anyway, where would she run to? There were no gateways along this stretch of road.

The Fiesta passed the entrance to Keeper’s Cottage. It swerved off the verge back onto the road, but only momentarily. Then it resumed its course, as though aiming for her.

Zoe released her grip on Mac’s collar. As she’d hoped, he immediately turned and started to run back towards the dead badger. Towards safety.

She put one hand on her stomach and thrust the other in front of her, fingers splayed, pleading with the driver to stop.

The car kept on coming.

She threw herself backwards into the hedge with as much force as she could muster.

THIRTY-TWO

The car swerved away from Zoe at the last moment.

Jammed into the hedge, too scared to move, to breathe even, she heard a squeal of brakes and felt of rush of air as it passed close by. Then it accelerated away.

Sprawled against the hedge, her body supported by twisted brambles, branches, twigs and stems, she remained immobile for what felt like several minutes. At some point she started to breathe again. And began to feel the scratches, scrapes and stings, not just on her bare arms and legs but through the thin cotton of her dress.

The only means of escape was to twist her body sideways, plunge a hand further into the hedge until it found a slim but firm tree trunk and push against it. The hedge gave her up begrudgingly; she could feel small rivulets of blood coursing down her shoulders and back. But eventually she was free.

She looked down the road and froze.

The Fiesta sat idling just before the first bend.

Was the driver watching, planning to come back for her?

She glanced towards Keeper’s Cottage. He’d have to turn round or reverse—either way she should be able to make it back home before he reached her. She’d already lost one flip flop in the hedge, so she kicked off the other one and prepared to run. But before she did, the car started to move forward.

It didn’t stop.

Zoe watched until the car was out of sight, then stumbled along the road to Keeper’s Cottage, looking back over her shoulder every few seconds. She threw herself inside, slammed the front door shut and leant against it, struggling to bring her breathing under control. Although she hadn’t worn them for months, her wellies stood in the hall; she pulled them on, grabbed her keys and Mac’s lead, and went out to the Jeep. Shaking so much that she struggled to find reverse gear, she eventually drove out onto the road and headed towards where the dead badger lay. Finding Mac there, once again rolling around on the rotting corpse, was one of the best sights she’d ever seen.

She made the dog sit on an old jacket that had been on the back seat, then drove home, where Mac got his second shower of the day. After towelling him down, she removed her blood-streaked dress, pulled several leaves from her hair and got under the water herself, gasping at what felt like a thousand pins being simultaneously driven into her body. Once the water ran clear, she stepped out of the shower, wrapped herself in a towel and went to sit on the patio. Her hand shook slightly as she raised it to brush her hair.

Had someone just tried to kill her?

THIRTY-THREE

Saturday felt marginally cooler than the norm that summer, making it almost tolerable for Zoe to wear a long-sleeved blouse and her faithful maxi-skirt in the hope of avoiding awkward questions from Kate about the state of her arms and legs. She had slept badly, her scratches and stings smarting and her heart racing as soon as she went to bed, but managed to drop off around two in the morning once she’d resolved to speak with Mather about the Fiesta and its malevolent driver. She hoped her visit to the hospital would coincide with one of his own, because if forced to seek him out, she would probably lose her nerve. Apart from her slight injuries, which proved nothing except she’d fallen out with a hedge, she had no evidence it wasn’t all in her mind.

She settled Mac in the kitchen, checked all the doors and windows, then set off for Melrose in the Jeep, wishing for the first time that she drove a smaller, less conspicuous vehicle. The journey was an ordeal. Hyper-alert for any sign of the blue Fiesta, she frequently checked her rear-view mirror, at one point pulling into a layby to allow a suspect car to pass. Its driver was an elderly woman. On arrival at the hospital, she parked as close to the entrance as possible, and jumped back onto the pavement as another small blue car approached, scolding herself when she realised it wasn’t even a Fiesta. A young man coming up from behind asked if she was alright and insisted on taking her arm and escorting her into the main building.

She only became aware of how much emotion she was suppressing when tears nearly came as Kate greeted her in a low, hoarse voice with, ‘You’ve got enormous. How many weeks was I unconscious for?’

Zoe forced a laugh and gave her friend a hug, which was complicated by her bump and Kate still being on an intravenous drip. She pulled back and asked, ‘When did they take the tube out of your throat?’

‘This morning. They’re moving me into a normal ward as soon as they can find a bed.’

‘You’re looking great.’

‘Erskine tells me my voice is now deep and sexy.’

‘He’s been here already, has he?’

‘He’ll be back later. Do you need to—’ Kate started to cough. Zoe passed her some water and waited.

While she caught her breath, Kate pointed at Zoe’s hand. As soon as she could speak, she said, ‘What happened?’

‘I had a fight with the old rose bush by the fence. It won.’ Zoe pulled her sleeves down as far as they would go.

‘Don’t you think it’s time to start taking it easy? You’ve given up work now, haven’t you?’

‘Things have got complicated. Walter’s resigned.’

‘There’s not many will be sad to hear that, but his timing’s crap. He’s done it on purpose, hasn’t he?’

Trying to ignore a sting on her left shoulder demanding to be scratched, Zoe said, ‘Probably. But I’m not here to bore you with my problems. Have they said when you can come home?’ Kate didn’t answer. Thinking she hadn’t spoken clearly enough, Zoe repeated her question.

‘I know what you said.’ Kate squeezed her eyes shut but a tear trickled down one cheek.

‘Oh my God, I’m sorry.’ Zoe grabbed Kate’s hand and squeezed it. When her friend opened her eyes, she repeated, ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t stop to think what a stupid question that was.’

‘The loss adjuster went to see the house on Thursday. It’s very badly damaged, not just from the smoke and flames but the water they used to put the fire out. We’re going to have to pull it down and build a new one. I don’t have a home anymore.’

‘But you’re safe. And so are the children.’

‘And Bluto. That’s cats for you—they look after themselves. Last thing I remember, he was curled up on the bed beside me.’

‘Really? You have no memory of the fire or coming to the hospital?’

‘I remember being pissed off with Ken being so stubborn, texting Mum to ask her to keep the bairns, then taking myself upstairs for an early night. Next thing I know, I’m waking up here with tubes coming out of everywhere and Mum leaning over the bed, telling me to stay calm.’

‘You must have been scared.’

‘I was. They told me I woke up before but made such a fuss I had to be put under again. I can’t remember any of it.’

‘That often happens.’

‘What, me making a fuss?’ Kate’s attempt at a laugh came out as a low rumble in her throat then another cough. After sipping more water, she lay back on her pillow.

Zoe asked, ‘Have the children been over to see you yet?’

‘They’re coming this evening. And Dad. Frankie’s going to be disappointed to have missed seeing me breathe through a tube coming out of my throat. I got Erskine to take a photo for him.’

‘Everyone’s been terribly worried about you.’

‘I know. It’s unbelievable someone would put me and my family through all this just to avoid paying a bill.’

‘I thought he did it because he was angry at what you’d discovered about his family.’

‘There’s that too. But I still think it’s more likely he didn’t want to pay me.’

‘At least it sounds as if he he’s going to plead guilty so you won’t have to go through a trial.’ The itch in Zoe’s shoulder flared up again and without thinking she slipped a hand inside her blouse to scratch it. ‘He must have been convincing to have fooled you.’

‘The only thing a bit off about him was the complicated story he told me when I asked for a deposit. He said a friend owed him money so rather than putting it into his own account then paying me out of that, he’d asked him to pay me direct. Should’ve rung alarm bells, I suppose, but let’s face it, as long as a bank transfer happens, who cares whose name’s on it?’

‘But it was from his own account, presumably?’

‘Aye, his real name’s . . .’ Kate screwed up her face. ‘You’d think I’d be able to remember what the man who nearly killed me is called, wouldn’t you? Erskine did tell me but it doesn’t seem to have sunk in.’

‘You’ve been through a lot. Give it time.’

‘As usual, you’re right. Anyway, how are you? You seem a bit on edge. Has coming here brought it home to you that you’re going to be giving birth in the not too distant future?’

To avoid any further grilling, Zoe agreed this was probably the case. The two women chatted a little more, but Kate spoke increasingly less; Zoe could tell she was tiring. And still no sign of Mather.

‘I’ve brought you a couple of books,’ Zoe said, reaching down into her bag.

Kate asked, ‘What’s happened to your back? You’re bleeding.’

Zoe twisted round to look at the shoulder which had been itching and saw blood had soaked through the white cotton of her blouse. ‘Just another scratch from the rose,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘How did it scratch you there? Were you gardening topless?’

‘I was wearing a not very sensible dress.’

‘Doesn’t sound like you.’ Kate lifted her water again but continued to look at Zoe over the top of it.

Zoe searched for something to say to fill the silence but was saved by the arrival of Douglas Mackenzie. He greeted her warmly and bent over to kiss his sister.

‘Here, have my chair,’ Zoe said, rising. ‘I must go now.’

‘Not on my account, I hope,’ Douglas said.

‘I’ve got lots to do at home.’ Zoe turned to Kate. ‘It’s been great to see you looking so well. I’ll come back on Monday, if you like.’

‘I’ll get Mum to phone you with which ward they move me to. And take care of yourself.’ Kate gave Zoe a stern look.

Placing the strap of her bag over the opposite shoulder to the one where it usually rode, in an attempt to hide the blood on her blouse, Zoe left the ICU. She took the stairs down, rather than the lift, in the vain hope that she would bump into Mather on his way up. Walking out of the hospital’s entrance, she resolved to phone him. Or maybe Sergeant Trent.

THIRTY-FOUR

The summer heat returned with a vengeance on Sunday, bringing with it a humidity which suggested the rain that Scotland’s west coast was now enjoying might get as far as the Borders this time. Zoe decided to walk Mac somewhere they were unlikely to encounter people, so she could wear a sleeveless top and get some air on her poor, scratched arms. She also felt safer driving a distance from Keeper’s Cottage before going anywhere on foot.