No Stranger to Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 1 (36 page)

‘I told you she’s an excellent doctor.’

‘Walter, there’s something you don’t know and which I promised Morwen I wouldn’t tell you. However, given the circumstances I’m sure she’ll understand my sharing it now. Morwen didn’t want a permanent job here. She was afraid of hurting your feelings, so we agreed I would say it was my decision not to offer it to her.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Ask her, why don’t you? She’s happy working in London, which is what she wanted all along. And when you’ve spoken with her, reflect on what’s best for this practice. I don’t want you to go back to Wales, but I’m also reluctant to sacrifice Zoe to keep you here. We must be able to work something out between us.’

Paul put the photograph down and walked out. Zoe followed, dazed at having witnessed Walter’s resentment laid bare and troubled by the news that she had been Paul’s second choice for her job.

‘Before you ask,’ Paul said a few minutes later when they were seated in his consulting room, ‘I don’t know why Walter insisted on your being present for that conversation. It would have been much better if he and I had spoken privately. He’s an excellent doctor but he does lack some social skills.’

‘Do you think he’ll carry out his threat to leave?’

‘Who knows?’ Paul sighed. ‘I often wonder how I might have felt had Alasdair been a girl. I can’t imagine loving him more than I do already, but it may have manifested itself in different ways. Fathers are so protective of their girls, aren’t they?’

Zoe started to murmur something non-committal, but he interrupted her, obviously remembering a conversation which had taken place during her first week at the practice.

‘My dear, what an old fool I am. I apologise for being so unthinking. And also for not realising how difficult Walter has been making things for you. Not much gets past Margaret, so she was aware of the situation, but she said nothing until I asked for her advice this morning. Why did you keep it from me?’

‘I’m a big girl, Paul. I should be able to fight my own battles.’

‘And as senior partner I should be aware of any tensions within the practice and help sort them out. Walter expects things to go his own way all the time, and reacts badly when they don’t. Which was why I agreed to go along with Morwen’s little deception. We both knew it was easier than forcing him to face up to the truth.’

Zoe did her best to smile. ‘If getting rid of me is what it takes for you to hang on to your partner, then of course you have to do it.’

‘Let’s wait and see what he decides,’ Paul said. ‘I’m not giving up on either of you yet.’

The smell of Heinz cream of chicken soup reminded Zoe of her grandparents, and its taste took her straight back to those first few weeks after she had moved in with them following her mother’s death. She remembered eating little else then, although she must have because Gran had not been the sort to tolerate childish fads. In adulthood, she turned to this comfort food whenever she felt unable to face anything else. There was a time and a place for home-made roasted tomato soup, but this was not it.

Since leaving the health centre a couple of hours ago, she had swung between resolving to go into work on Monday morning and resigning with immediate effect and being determined to stay put and see things through, whatever Walter’s decision turned out to be. To cap it all, there was Neil. She had no idea if their relationship ought to have any influence on what she chose to do. Or if, indeed, they had a relationship.

Her mobile chimed with a text from Kate:
Need to catch up. RU home?

Zoe texted straight back:
Yes

As soon as Kate arrived, she launched straight into her news. ‘Things have moved on with Tom and Alice. She –’

‘Let’s sit down first, shall we?’ Zoe steered her friend through to the sitting room.

Kate perched on the arm of Mac’s chair. ‘As I was saying, Alice has dropped her plan to take the girls away and, in exchange, Tom’s agreed to let her spend as much time as she wants with them up here.’

Relieved this was already common knowledge, Zoe saw no need to feign ignorance. She said, ‘So I’ve heard. Gregor came into the surgery this afternoon. He’s not happy about it and blames me for putting Tom on to Chris Kossoff.’

‘Take no notice of him. The Mackenzie clan is very grateful to you. It was lucky Uncle Billy phoned Mum to tell her before I went barging in feet-first to see Alice. And you’ll feel better now I don’t have to use her conversation in the pub with Gregor as leverage. Though I guess I should tell Erskine in any case.’

‘I don’t think that’s necessary any more.’

‘But you insisted on it. You described it as an ideal excuse to see him.’

‘Sorry about that.’

Kate grinned. ‘You’re useless at realising when your leg’s being pulled, aren’t you? Anyway, explain why I don’t need to pass on this vital piece of evidence.’

Once again, Zoe was forced to decide what she could and could not tell her friend. Gregor’s revelation about having been his stepmother’s lover was definitely out of bounds, but she could see no harm in mentioning another piece of interesting news.

‘The police have known for a while where Chrissie was due to be on the day she disappeared. According to Gregor, she’d booked herself in for an overnight spa break at a hotel near Durham. They found out through her phone records.’

‘Why did Gregor tell you this?’

‘He was trying to prove how you and I aren’t nearly as smart as he is.’

‘So, there’s no mystery lover after all.’ Kate looked disappointed. ‘Oh well, at least it’s good news about Tom and the twins.’

‘Although it’s sad that he and Jean have split up.’ Zoe regretted her words as soon as they were out. Kate’s face told her this was not yet common knowledge.

‘You’re kidding. How did Gregor find that out?’

‘It wasn’t Gregor who told me. Jean works at the health centre, remember? She’s very upset.’

‘They were planning to get married. What happened?’

Oh shit
. Zoe had no intention of telling anyone about Tom’s drunken visit to an Edinburgh nightclub.

‘What happened, Zoe?’

‘Ask Tom. He’ll tell you if he wants you to know.’

‘Remember our conversation about you having to trust people?’

‘I do, but I’m adamant on this one.’ Desperate to change the subject, Zoe said, ‘But Gregor let slip something else you’ll find interesting.’

‘This had better be good.’

‘It is. The police found three hundred and fifty pounds hidden in Chrissie’s car.’

‘So what?’ Kate was not going to be so easily appeased.

‘That’s exactly how much her spa break was costing. She must have only used her credit card to make the booking, and never intended to settle the bill with it. But more to the point, where did she got the money from? I keep hearing how mean Jimmy was.’

‘Aye, he was that. Chrissie once told Mum he’d check her shopping receipts to make sure she wasn’t being extravagant.’ Kate looked thoughtful. ‘Could she have stolen it?’

‘That was my first thought, but who from? I don’t keep that much money on me. Do you?

‘No, but Dad does. People of that generation are happier with cash than plastic. Sorry, Zoe, that doesn’t get us anywhere.’

‘There is another possibility. Want to hear my theory?’

‘Of course.’

‘She was blackmailing someone.’

‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ Kate considered briefly, then nodded, looking pleased with herself. ‘I know who her victims were.’

‘Me too.’

‘Ray and Hazel Anderson,’ Kate said.

‘The Andersons,’ Zoe said simultaneously.

‘Even if they didn’t kill her,’ Kate continued, ‘it explains why they’re so freaked out by the police asking questions. But what could Chrissie possibly know that they’d pay her to keep quiet about?’

‘Everyone has secrets. What we need to find out is whether theirs is serious enough to warrant killing someone over.’

‘And how do we do that?’

‘I’m going to ask them, or rather, Hazel. Tomorrow morning.’

‘But if Ray and Hazel killed Chrissie, that means they probably tried to kill you too.’

‘I’m sure they won’t hurt me. If they were responsible for Chrissie’s death I doubt it was on purpose.’

‘Someone tampered with your car’s brakes on purpose.’

‘If it makes you feel better I’ll tell them from the outset that you know I’ve gone to see them.’

‘Let me come with you.’

Zoe shook her head. ‘I’ve gained Hazel’s trust. She’s more likely to open up if it’s just me. I’ll go to the flat first. If I time it right, Ray will be down in the pub.’

‘At least let me know how you get on.’

‘I’ll text you.’

‘Better still, why don’t you come round for tea and tell me what she says?’

‘What time?’

‘Four-ish? I’m taking the bairns Christmas shopping in Berwick, but we’ll be back by then. Let yourself in if we’re not. And be careful!’

Chapter 47

The ten o’clock headlines came on as Zoe parked a little way past The Rocket on Saturday morning. She took no solace from the news that except for a spate of quad-bike thefts in the Duns area, little of note had taken place anywhere in the Borders during the past twenty-four hours. Gone was the nonchalance she had displayed to Kate last night when declaring her intention to tackle the Andersons about their relationship with Chrissie Baird. Instead, her stomach churned and Kate’s warning echoed in her mind.
If Ray and Hazel killed Chrissie, that probably means they tried to kill you too
.

She got out of the car and walked to the rear of the pub. Once there, she lost her nerve and stood, hand poised, incapable of knocking on the door. The words she had prepared to explain this visit fled from her mind.
How could she hope to persuade Hazel to confide in her? And was she putting herself in danger by even trying?

About to turn away from the building, she glimpsed movement up at the flat’s window. Someone had seen her.

Zoe’s trepidation vanished as soon as the door opened. As she had predicted, the comfort offered by Colonel Stevens’ claim to have put Hazel in touch with her dead son had not lasted long. The Rocket’s landlady pressed a trembling hand against her brow, simultaneously supporting a too-heavy head and shielding her eyes from the light. The belt of her dressing-gown was unfastened, revealing a faded blue nightie which clung to a pair of sagging breasts.

Without a word, Hazel turned to walk slowly back up the stairs. Zoe followed, and when they reached the door to the flat’s living quarters she asked Hazel if she wanted to get dressed before they talked. The older woman murmured something and continued along the passageway, while Zoe entered the sitting room and crossed the tartan carpet to look out of the window. She could no longer see police tape; the area beyond the beer garden had returned to being just a field, although she could not imagine ever wanting to walk there again.

Rather than sit down and wait for Hazel, she went over to the fireplace and lifted up the photograph of the young man whose premature death was slowly but relentlessly killing his mother. It was a typical holiday shot taken in a harbour, with Duncan standing in front of a small, brightly coloured boat while in the distance another vessel, bigger and with writing along its side, was heading out to sea. A ferry.

A ferry
.

At that moment, Zoe realised what Chrissie’s hold over Hazel and Ray could have been. The idea appalled her, and changed entirely her attitude towards the dead woman. Nothing justified murder, but she understood now the anguish which could make it seem like the only option.

Coffee mugs rattling on a tray announced Hazel’s arrival. When they were both seated, Zoe inclined her head towards the mantelpiece. ‘I was admiring Duncan’s photograph,’ she said. ‘Where was it taken?’

Spots of colour appeared on Hazel’s cheeks. ‘On the west coast. It was his last birthday before he got ill.’

‘It was taken in Oban, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ Hazel had brushed her hair and pulled on a white T-shirt over a pair of chef’s trousers, but these superficial improvements failed to mask her misery.

‘I’m sorry to have to ask you this, Hazel, but what did Duncan die from?’

The only response Zoe got was a sob. She tried again, making her voice as gentle as she could. ‘Hazel, please tell me. Did he die of an AIDS-related illness?’

Hazel looked up, her face shiny with tears. ‘He didn’t have AIDS,’ she whispered. ‘He was HIV-positive but the treatment was keeping him well. Then he got cancer, a horrible cancer, the sort everyone would say he brought on himself.’

‘You mean anal cancer?’ Zoe asked. Although caused by the same virus as cervical cancer in women, she knew how little awareness and even less sympathy surrounded this type of cancer, which affects both sexes.

Hazel winced as if she had been struck.

‘Ray doesn’t want anyone to know, does he?’

‘I’m sure Duncan left it too late to get help because he couldn’t face telling his dad.’ Hazel pulled a tissue from her trouser pocket and noisily blew her nose.

‘And Chrissie found out.’

‘We hadn’t been here long when she came knocking on the door, saying she needed to talk to us,’ Hazel said, forcing back tears. ‘We thought she wanted to give us advice about the pub. Instead, she warned us that some Borders people could be very narrow-minded, and although she was sorry our son was dead, we shouldn’t expect everyone to be as sympathetic once they knew what he’d died from.’

‘She asked for money in exchange for keeping quiet?’

‘Not at first. That afternoon, as she was leaving, she admired a vase on the window sill, said it would go well with the new wallpaper she’d hung in Horseshoe Cottage. Then she just stood there, waiting. And Ray gave it to her.’ Hazel’s face crumpled and she burst into tears again.

‘You poor thing.’ Zoe moved across to the other sofa and took the mug from Hazel’s hand, placing it on the table. Unused to offering more than a pat on the arm to comfort patients when they became distraught, she was taken aback when the older woman twisted around and began sobbing against her shoulder.