No Stranger to Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 1 (22 page)

He walked along the narrow aisle, coming to a halt by her side. ‘Doctor Moreland. Glad to see you up and about after your accident. Are you feeling better?’

Zoe took a step back to distance herself from the blast of garlicky breath emanating from his thin mouth. ‘Yes, thank you. I’m still without a car, so I thought I’d walk. It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?’

‘As you’re on foot, you must say if you need us to deliver anything to your house.’ Brian moved to close the gap between them, forcing Zoe, who felt equally disturbed by his proximity and his halitosis, to retreat further.

‘What a kind offer,’ she said, bending down to pick up a packet of dog biscuits. ‘In that case I’d better make it worth your while. Could you fetch me a basket please?’ These were kept next to the counter, compelling Brian to withdraw from her space.

Lisa had still not appeared by the time Zoe paid for her purchases, so as Brian passed over her change she had no alternative but to ask him where his wife was.

‘In the house. She’s none too good these mornings, as you can imagine.’ Although the counter was now between them, Brian leant forward as far as he could towards Zoe. She smelt his breath again, but more repulsive was the leer on his face. He may not want the child his wife was carrying, but that did not stop him from taking a repellent pride in having impregnated her.

Zoe hesitated. Brian thrust out his hand and held it disturbingly close to her left breast, although he looked her straight in the eye.

‘I’ll take whatever you’ve brought in for her.’

Just as she was about to hand over the envelope containing a leaflet about the Edinburgh clinic, Zoe heard a small voice call out, ‘Is that Doctor Moreland?’

Brian frowned and made to snatch the envelope from Zoe’s fingers. She withdrew her hand before he could reach it.

‘I’ll give it to her myself. Through here, is she?’

Brian looked set to place himself between Zoe and the door she was heading for, but at that moment an elderly woman came in with a large parcel, demanding to know if it would reach New Zealand in time for Christmas. Ignoring Brian’s furious expression, Zoe slipped into the stockroom.

Lisa stood at the end of an avenue of metal shelving packed with jars, tins, bottles and packets. A short yellow dressing-gown accentuated her pallor and revealed a pair of skinny legs that looked hardly strong enough to support her. She was holding a piece of toast.

‘Hello Lisa. How are you feeling today?’

‘A bit better.’

‘Here’s the information I promised you.’

Lisa took the envelope from Zoe. ‘Can I talk to you?’

‘Of course, but you look cold. Is there somewhere else we can go?’

A door at the rear of the stockroom opened into a small hallway, which in turn led to a sizeable kitchen with blue walls, white tiles and wooden-fronted cupboards. The smell of burnt toast hung in the air, despite one of the windows being open.

Although they were well out of her husband’s hearing, Lisa spoke in a voice so low that Zoe was forced, as usual, to strain to hear her. ‘Do I need to do anything straight away?’

‘Legally speaking, you have a little time, although like any surgical procedure it’s better to have it done sooner than later. However – ‘

Lisa tried to interrupt but Zoe held up a hand to silence her. ‘Please listen. This is important.’ She looked hard at the girl, trying to maintain eye contact with her. ‘However, if you’re having second thoughts, you must take your time to reach the right decision.’

‘But how do I know what that is?’

Zoe pointed at the envelope Lisa clutched in her hand. ‘Those people will counsel you.’

Lisa opened her mouth, looked towards the hall, and shut it again, her complexion suddenly even paler. Turning around, Zoe saw Brian leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded and a sneer on his face.
How long had he been there?

‘Thank you for bringing this.’ Lisa put the envelope into her gown pocket. ‘I’ll let you out of the side door, save you going back through the shop.’

As she was leaving, Zoe saw Brian move next to his wife and put an arm around her. Lisa’s thin body stiffened.

The small child parked in a pushchair outside the shop began to grizzle as Zoe untied Mac and led him away. They walked towards The Rocket, giving another stranger the opportunity to stop and sympathise over her accident. She suppressed the urge to shout that it had not been an accident, that someone had tried to kill her.

They had barely moved off again when Zoe’s attention was caught by a man coming out of Horseshoe Cottage. Despite his upper body being hidden behind the boxes he carried, she immediately recognised those shiny trousers. She watched Terry clumsily set his load on top of some more boxes already piled behind a parked red Fiesta, unlock the car and open its boot.

About to walk on, Zoe remembered Kate’s assertion that the only way to find things out was to stop being polite and start provoking people. She crossed the road.

Terry had begun loading the boxes into the Fiesta. Zoe stood behind him and said, ‘Hello, Terry. I’m Zoe Moreland. We met last night in Eyemouth, remember?’

The young man hastily withdrew from the depths of the car, banging his head in the process. He blinked hard, as though he rarely saw daylight, and grunted in recognition.

‘Alice sorting out her mother’s things, is she?’ Zoe asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Such a sad task. She’s lucky to have you for support.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And Gregor, of course. I know he’s her step-brother, which can’t be the same as a blood relative, but they do seem very close.’

Terry scowled and gave a hollow laugh before bending over to pick up another box. Zoe was wondering whether to bait him further when she looked down. Mac had been sniffing around the boxes; now he was lifting his leg.

‘No, Mac, don’t do that! Oh. I’m so sorry.’

One of the boxes had a dark stain down its side and a yellow pool at its base.

‘I do hope nothing’s damaged,’ Zoe said, opening the top of the box to reveal tightly-packed china, unwrapped bar a few pieces of newspaper stuffed into the gaps. ‘Shouldn’t we fetch a cloth and wipe it?’

Terry pushed the cardboard flaps back down and lifted the box away from her. Its contents clattered as he thrust it into the car.

Kate would probably have accomplished more from this episode, but Zoe allowed herself a brief smile as she walked on up the street. She had provoked Terry and although he had said very little, his response to her comment about Gregor was all the proof she needed. Alice’s boyfriend was jealous of her step brother.

Gaining entry to the Andersons’ living quarters above The Rocket proved easier than Zoe expected. She rang the bell and immediately heard a dog barking. Shortly afterwards, Hazel Anderson appeared with a brown cocker spaniel at her heel.

‘Hello,’ Zoe said. Having steeled herself to meet some resistance, it was a relief when Hazel responded by making an extravagant sweeping gesture with her arm.

‘Come away in.’ The words were slurred.

‘Will it be all right if I fasten Mac to this?’ Zoe indicated a boot scraper set into a slab of concrete.

‘He can come too. The more the merrier. As long as he doesn’t try to play with Sukie – she’s past all that now.’

Dogs and owners filed along the narrow hall and up a steep staircase. The first door on the right led into a large, airy room stretching from the front to the rear of the building, its walls a pale green, its floor covered in the same tartan carpet as the pub’s dining room.

Hazel ushered Zoe across the room and pointed to one of the leather sofas arranged in front of an unlit open fire. She sat down heavily on the other sofa, reaching over to rearrange the contents of a small table, though not before Zoe spotted the whisky glass which disappeared behind a pile of magazines.

‘Welcome to our humble abode,’ Hazel said, again with a flamboyant wave. ‘What can I do for you, Doctor? Did my husband tell you to come and see me?’

‘No, he didn’t. I’ve actually come round to apologise.’

‘Apologise? What for?’

‘You’ve had a visit from the police because I mistakenly thought I saw your car near the water meadow the morning Jimmy Baird died.’

Hazel leaned back, making the sofa squeal. ‘Oh that. Don’t worry about it. Life’s too short.’ She smacked the seat next to her and called to Sukie, who was exchanging bottom sniffs with Mac. The old dog struggled to climb up, her paws slipping on the shiny leather.

‘Lovely creatures, aren’t they?’ Hazel said, pulling Sukie up by the scruff of the neck. ‘You can always rely on a dog. How long have you had yours?’

‘Only a few months, but I wouldn’t be without him now.’ As if endorsing the closeness of their relationship, Mac sat down at Zoe’s feet and gazed up at her.

‘How old is Sukie?’ Zoe asked.

‘She’s twelve, but we’ve not had her all that time.’

‘Did you get her from a rescue centre?’

‘No. She belonged to our son, but when he couldn’t look after her any more she came to live with us. Then he died.’ Hazel absentmindedly stretched her hand towards the table and looked surprised when it did not find the glass.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Zoe already wished she had not gone along with Kate’s suggestion to come here. It was all very well needling someone like Terry, but this poor woman deserved compassion not suspicion.

‘We knew it was going to happen.’

‘It must have been very painful for you.’

‘Still is. But I don’t have to tell you. You being a widow.’ Forgetting or abandoning her pretence of sobriety, Hazel reached behind the magazines and brought the glass of whisky to her lips. ‘This helps for a time,’ she added, once the liquid had gone down her throat.

‘It’s not the sort of help I would recommend.’

Hazel slammed the glass down on the table. ‘Ray did send you here!’

‘No, Hazel, he didn’t. Truly. But I’m sure he’s worried about you.’

‘Worried about the business, more like. Worried that having a barmy wife’ll stop people coming into the pub.’

‘You may feel better if you could talk things through with someone. I could put you in touch with a bereavement counsellor.’

‘I’ve got someone to talk to,’ Hazel said. ‘Trouble is, Ray won’t let me.’ She got up and lifted a framed photograph from the mantelpiece. It was of a young man in his early twenties standing alongside a boat. He had delicate features and his mother’s dark curls, and cuddled a young Sukie.

Thrusting the picture so close to Zoe’s face that she could not focus properly on it, Hazel said, ‘My Duncan. Handsome, isn’t he?’

‘Yes.’

Hazel still held the photograph up to her. ‘He’s the only one I want to talk to,’ she said, then fell back into her seat, clutching her dead son to her breast. Tears coursed down her face and her nose ran.

‘When are you expecting Ray home?’ Zoe asked.

Hazel sniffed noisily. ‘He’s no use. As far as Ray’s concerned, Duncan died a long time ago. He’s over it now, and thinks I should be too.’

‘We all react differently to grief. It’s not unusual for men to bottle up their feelings.’

‘But surely, Doctor, it’s unusual for a father to be angry with his son because he gets sick and dies. I tried to tell him it wasn’t Duncan’s fault, but he wouldn’t listen.’

‘Feeling angry towards the deceased is one of the accepted stages of bereavement.’ Zoe frowned, aware she sounded like one of the leaflets she was supposed to give patients to help them cope with the loss of a loved one. But she also knew from personal experience how true those words were.

Hazel had not heard. She stared at Duncan’s picture, her lips moving silently, as if chanting a spell which could bring him back to life.

‘I’ve found the one person who can help me,’ she said eventually, ‘only to be told I can’t see him again.’

‘Who’s that, Hazel?’

‘A lovely man in Norham. He – ‘

Hazel stopped speaking and looked warily at Zoe. Her face broke into a travesty of a smile. ‘Oh no, you don’t catch me out that easily. Ray’s trying to have me put away and you’re helping him.’

It was impossible to persuade her to talk further. Reluctantly, with no alternative short of refusing to leave before Ray came home and having no idea when that would be, Zoe left. Hazel made no effort to show her out, but continued to gaze at Duncan’s photograph.

As she crossed the room, Zoe studied the view from the window overlooking the beer garden and fields beyond. The bonfire site, still cordoned off by police tape, was clearly visible only a short distance from the pub and the Andersons’ living quarters. It would have been easy for two people, or just one strong one, to transport Chrissie Baird’s body there, unobserved, after dark.

Chapter 27

‘There’s a sensible-looking vehicle parked outside,’ Kate said, removing her coat to reveal a baby-pink cardigan with pearly buttons over a short, black skirt. ‘You’ll not be wanting to keep that for long.’

‘The insurance company arranged it,’ Zoe said. ‘They even had it delivered to the health centre yesterday afternoon. So I can’t complain, although you’re right, it’s not the sort of car I’m used to.’

‘Were you okay, getting back behind the wheel for the first time since your crash?’

‘Margaret and Paul insisted on watching me drive away, so I was more worried about doing something stupid, like stalling.’ The flashbacks of careering out of control into that field had only come on when Zoe was nearly home.
No one needed to hear about those
. She bit into one of the donuts Kate had brought with her, realising she had once again forgotten to have lunch.

‘Mmm, that was good.’ Kate licked jam off her fingers then wiped her mouth with a piece of kitchen towel.

‘You missed some.’ Zoe tapped her own face to show Kate where a few granules of sugar lurked on hers. ‘Your text said you’d spoken to Etta about Alice and Gregor. Could she tell you anything?’

Kate shook her head. ‘Mum doesn’t even remember making that comment about them, so perhaps it wasn’t her who said it.’