Too Soon a Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 2 (20 page)

‘There’s a lot of folklore attached to them,’ Patrick said. ‘As well as warding off evil, did you know that rowan’s traditionally used to make Maypoles? They’re supposed to aid flirtation and romance.’

‘You know some pretty unlikely facts for a vet.’

‘You’ve seen my house. I read a lot. Can’t help absorbing all sorts of stuff.’

They were taken to a table beside one of the open windows, a faint breeze ruffling the paper serviettes wedged into wine glasses which would remain unused as Zoe ordered a sparkling mineral water with ice and lemon and Patrick ordered a Becks Blue.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ the waitress said. ‘We don’t sell alcohol-free beer, only low-alcohol.’

Patrick briefly looked as though he wanted to make a fuss, then said, ‘In which case, you’d better make that a large bottle of mineral water.’

They both concentrated on reading the menu so by the time their water arrived they were ready to order their food. Zoe said she would only have a main course, the salmon with salad and new potatoes. Patrick looked stricken.

‘That doesn’t mean you can’t have a starter,’ she said.

‘I’ll probably not bother with a sweet.’

‘In that case we’ll be quits, as I probably will.’

He ordered stuffed mushrooms followed by a sirloin steak, medium rare, with garlic chips and roasted cherry tomatoes, and pulled a face as the waitress left. ‘Couldn’t have ordered a more blokeish meal, could I?’

‘Eating out is the time to either go for the food you love or to try something you’ve never had before. I once met a man on holiday in Malta who had a T-bone steak every night for the two weeks he was there. His wife was embarrassed, but I could never understand why. He was doing what made him happy—isn’t that what holidays are for?’

‘Malta? You like to travel, then?’

‘Not very widely. I’ve never been to America, though I guess in a few years’ time I’ll be under pressure to visit Florida. What about you?’

‘I go to see relatives in Poland every now and then. And when I lived in Glasgow I travelled to back to Ireland a few times.’

‘Did you train to be a vet in Glasgow?’

‘No, I was in another line of business back then. Moved to Edinburgh and applied to study at the Dick Vet.’

Zoe tried and failed to suppress a smile. ‘The Dick Vet?’

‘Go on, laugh. Everyone else does.’

‘Sorry. Childish of me.’

‘It was established by a chap called William Dick in the early nineteenth century and is the best place in the country to study veterinary medicine. Being the butt of jokes for going there was worth it.’

‘Do you hope to have your own practice one day?’

‘One day. I should have by now probably, but I got waylaid.’

‘By what?’

‘My own stupidity. Oh good, here come my mushrooms.’

In between mouthfuls of his starter, Patrick threw out questions to Zoe about herself. At first she resisted giving him anything more than the bare details of her life, but his quiet persistence and genuine interest started to break down some of the barriers she habitually erected to keep people at arm’s length. Rather than try to cram too many tables into the dining room, the Rowan Tree’s owners had spaced them wide enough apart to offer a degree of privacy. She no longer held back over her life before she moved to Scotland, even telling him about Russell and some of the circumstances surrounding his death. Thankfully, because she would have shut him down very quickly if he had, Patrick knew better than to examine her about what had gone on since her arrival in the Borders. Like most people, he probably thought he knew it all anyway, thanks to the newspapers.

The Rowan Tree’s service tipped over from speedy to hurried when their main courses arrived almost immediately after Patrick’s empty starter plate had been taken away. By now, Zoe was feeling hungry, so she didn’t mind, but she noticed him hesitate before picking up his knife and fork as though suppressing a comment.

The food was excellent and they ate at a relaxed pace, chatting as friends do, without any flirtatious undertones. Pregnancy had rendered Zoe asexual, at least as far as the rest of the world was concerned. She didn’t know how this made her feel.

Patrick was mopping up the meat juices on his plate with the last of his chips when his phone rang. He took it from his shirt pocket, checked the screen and frowned. ‘Once again, I have to take this. Sorry.’ He got up. ‘Won’t be long.’

As he walked across the room, Zoe smiled apologetically at an elderly pair of fellow diners whose faces expressed annoyance at their quiet meal out being disturbed. She couldn’t really blame them. Was this call from the same friend who had cut short their walk?

She checked her own mobile, which she had muted before leaving Keeper’s Cottage, and felt no surprise that no one had texted or phoned her. Phone etiquette was still evolving, but being left alone at a restaurant table while the person who had invited her out took a call was starting to feel like a slight. She tried not to keep glancing at the station clock on the wall to see the minutes passing and hoped Patrick would be back soon, although she was tempted to visit the bathroom and let him think she’d got fed up and gone home if he returned while she was away.

He wore a pained expression when he came back. ‘Zoe, I’m so sorry. That took longer than I thought it would.’

‘As you keep reminding me, this isn’t a date.’

‘Even so, I care what you think of me.’

‘Is everything okay or are you likely to get another call?’

‘I hope not.’

Their plates had been cleared during Patrick’s absence, and now the waitress brought the sweet menu. Zoe chose the lemon torte. Patrick, having missed out on his final chips, ordered biscuits and cheese. They chatted as they ate, mainly Patrick telling Zoe about various places in the Borders that he recommended she should visit, but the easy familiarity which had been developing between them had disappeared. Zoe started to feel tired and uncomfortable; the baby’s persistent kicking didn’t help. She opted for peppermint tea instead of coffee.

Patrick’s phone sounded again, an incoming text this time. He checked his message and looked helplessly at Zoe.

‘If you need to go, we can cancel our drinks,’ she said, expecting him to argue.

‘Thanks for being so understanding.’ Patrick waved the waitress over and asked for the bill.

‘I can’t properly understand if you don’t tell me what’s going on,’ Zoe said.

‘It’s someone else’s problem and I’m trying to help them out. Sorry, but I can’t go into details.’

She forced a smile. ‘Now I know how Kate feels. She’s always saying I’m too guarded about what I tell people.’

‘Which gives me hope that our friendship can survive despite this evening being cut short, as I didn’t think you were at all guarded while we were talking. I’ll make this up to you, I promise.’

They travelled back towards Westerlea in silence. Zoe concentrated on driving while Patrick sent and received so many texts that she had to fight the urge to pull in, grab his mobile and throw it out of the window. They weren’t far from the turning to Tolbyres Farm when a text came in. Patrick read it and said, ‘Zoe, I can explain now.’

This had better be good.

‘Alright,’ she said.

‘First of all, I need to tell you something about myself.’

Zoe glanced in her rear-view mirror and saw flashing lights bearing down on them. ‘Sorry, it’ll have to wait. I need to get out of the way of that fire engine.’

The road was narrow; at first glance she could see nowhere to go, then she spotted a gateway into a field. The gate was closed but there was enough room to pull up the Jeep in front of it. She indicated, veering off the road almost immediately. The fire engine sped past.

‘Looks like someone else’s Friday night has been ruined,’ Patrick said.

Zoe threw him a rueful grin. ‘That’s put things into perspective.’

She checked for other vehicles and pulled back out into the road. The fire engine was still visible; it had slowed down ahead of them. Then it turned right.

‘Oh crap, it’s going to Tolbyres,’ Patrick said.

Zoe put her foot down.

TWENTY-THREE

‘The fire engine would never have got down here if we’d had rain recently,’ Zoe said, as her Jeep lurched from side to side along the rough track leading to Tolbyres Farm. She could smell smoke now and from the look on his face, so could Patrick.

‘Maybe it’s a false alarm, or just something gone on fire in a barn,’ he said.

As they rounded the bend, they saw his optimism had been misplaced.

Tolbyres Cottage was on fire.

Zoe brought the Jeep to an abrupt halt. She and Patrick looked in horror at the scene in front of them.

Smoke poured from every downstairs window of Kate’s home. On the right of the building, the redundant front door which was always kept locked had burned away, its frame now a blackened portal into the blazing hallway. The sash of one window ignited and flames took hold of the dry wood which had only recently been repainted. Zoe thought about the waxed floorboards throughout the house, the wooden shelves piled high with books and magazines, and the revealed beams in the sitting room. The whole place was a tinderbox.

Unable to bear watching the destruction any longer, Zoe turned her attention to what was being done to bring the blaze under control. A firefighter wearing a mustard-coloured uniform and yellow helmet raised a panel on the fire engine’s side and started to pull out a black hose. Another, in a white helmet, spoke a few words to him then strode off towards the house, the back of his jacket announcing that he was the Incident Commander. A third firefighter appeared carrying first aid equipment which he set down some distance away from the scene.

Behind the fire engine, the only two men on the scene not in uniform were grappling with each other. Patrick got out of the Jeep and ran to them. As Zoe watched him join the scuffle she realised what was happening: Dod Affleck was trying to prevent Douglas Mackenzie from running into his sister’s house.

She made her way as fast as she could to the men. Despite now being outnumbered, Douglas obviously had no intention of giving in and continued struggling to get free. Even though its siren and flashing lights had been switched off, the vehicle’s engine continued to run, so she had to shout to make herself heard. ‘Stop it, all of you! Douglas, listen to me. Are the children in there?’

‘No, they’re staying with Mum and Dad tonight. But Kate is. She was going to have an early night and collect them in the morning.’

‘Has anyone told the firefighters that she’s deaf?’

Dod’s jaw clenched. ‘It was me who called to report the fire,’ he said. ‘But I was that upset, I wasnae thinking straight.’

‘It’s not too late,’ Zoe said.

She dashed over to the firefighter who had been organising the first aid equipment and was now speaking into a hand-held radio. ‘Excuse me,’ she shouted. He looked up at her. ‘There’s something you need to know. My friend who lives here is deaf. She’s in bed and could be sleeping through all this.’

‘Do you know where her bedroom is?’

‘At the back on the right of the building.’

Directly above the worst of the flames.

The fireman nodded, repeated what she had told him into the radio and listened to the response. Turning back to Zoe, he told her to stay where she was; the Incident Commander would come and speak to her. As if on cue, the man in the white helmet emerged from the side of Kate’s house and hurried towards them.

‘You’re certain your friend is the only person in the building?’ he said.

‘Her children are with their grandparents, thank goodness. You’ve realised it isn’t two houses any more, but just one?’

‘I thought it was strange not to have a fence separating the gardens. Does that mean we should be able to reach your friend by going up the left-hand stairs?’

‘Yes. There’s a long corridor at the back and Kate’s room is at the far end of it.’

‘Good. Now please go and move your vehicle well back. Two more appliances will be here any minute.’ He turned and strode towards the fire engine. As if on cue, Zoe heard sirens approaching.

She reversed the Jeep and steered it through an open gate into the field where Frankie’s chicken shed stood. Clyde and his hens had been closed up for the night, although the poor creatures must have sensed something was wrong because she heard clucking and the frantic beating of wings as though they were trying to escape. Before she could make her way back to Patrick and the others, the sirens suddenly sounded much closer and two more fire engines swept into view, followed by a police car.

While the firefighters concentrated on Kate’s house, three uniformed police officers set about cordoning off the site. Zoe remained behind the field’s wooden fence and watched Douglas remonstrate with one of the officers about being made to move back. He finally gave in and came over to her.

Patrick joined them shortly afterwards. ‘Why don’t you go home, Zoe? The ambulance’ll be here soon.’

‘I’m not here because I’m a doctor. That’s my best friend in there. I can’t leave.’

He looked like he wanted to argue but at that moment they were distracted by the sight of Kate’s remaining front door being smashed open with a red battering ram. Several firefighters wearing breathing apparatus charged inside and were instantly enveloped by smoke.

‘I’ve a friend who’s a retained fireman,’ Patrick said. ‘They’re incredible. They’ll get her out in no time.’

Having worked in a hospital and treated victims of smoke inhalation, Zoe didn’t respond. She knew that in many house fires, deaths were due to people breathing in toxic gases like carbon monoxide rather than any burns they might suffer. Kate was in real danger, even if the flames hadn’t yet reached her.

Overcome by the noise, the smells and fear for her friend, Zoe started to feel faint. She leaned against the fence for support and tried to lower herself to the ground in a controlled fashion, but her knees buckled and she fell sideways. Patrick, talking on his mobile again, didn’t notice; however, Douglas and Dod came running. Dod pulled off his cotton sweater and helped her sit down on it.