ON DEVIL'S BRAE (A Psychological Suspense Thriller) (Dark Minds Mystery Suspense) (11 page)

Elizabeth smiled. “I’m sure he is. We all need someone to love.”

“Here we are at last! Tea for three, and I thought as it was so near lunch time, I could tempt you with a sandwich or two,” interrupted Lorna as she bustled into the living room carrying a laden tray. “Elizabeth, dear, if you would be so kind and pull the coffee table out. Yes, that’s lovely. Now I’ll just fetch the rest of the things.”

Cassandra and Elizabeth looked at each other and smiled. It was barely midday. “I hope you have a healthy appetite because Lorna doesn’t do things by half where the kitchen is concerned.”

By the time Lorna finished bringing food and china in from the kitchen, there was a small feast laid on the oblong table set before them. Cassandra didn’t know whether she should be dismayed or pleased at the prospect of so much food. As well as the promised sandwiches and cake, Lorna prepared bowls of steaming soup, scotch eggs, sausage rolls, and a small dish of salad.

“My goodness,” Cassandra murmured. “I didn’t expect this.”

“Have the soup while it’s nice and hot. It’s a favourite of ours and completely Scottish. It’s called Cullen skink. It’s a thick soup made of smoked haddock, potatoes, and onions. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

Cassandra shot a sympathetic look at Elizabeth, thinking how she had to put up with Lorna’s erratic behaviour every day, but the older woman chose to ignore it. Instead she made room for Lorna on the settee next to her, arranged a cushion to support her back, and insisted she took something to eat herself.

Cassandra noticed Lorna picked at her food, all the time talking and fidgeting while keeping watch on their guest’s plate. “Have another sandwich. Egg and cress, Elizabeth’s favourite. No? Well I have cream cheese and cucumber if you prefer.”

Cassandra resisted a strong urge to laugh. “I can’t have any more,” she said. “I’m almost full. You’re a super hostess, Lorna.”

“There’s cake. I’m sure you still have room for cake. I always think we must have a separate stomach for pudding or cake. Don’t you agree, dear?”

Cassandra weakened, knowing Lorna wouldn’t keep still or quiet until she placed a piece of Dundee cake on Cassandra’s plate. “Just a tiny slice. No, really, I wouldn’t want to waste it.”

“I’ll cut you off a segment to take home too. You can have it later on.”

Cassandra was about to object when she caught Elizabeth’s eye and the almost imperceptible shake of her head. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.”

“You know, you have a look of her about you,” she said, switching tack without warning.

Cassandra stared for a second before realising what Lorna was talking about. “Oh, you mean Susan, my sister?”

Lorna nodded, her head bobbing about like a cork in water, her black eyes bright and feverish. “Are you a sculptor, too? Is that the right word, Elizabeth?” she turned to her sister with a frown.

“I believe so.”

“No. I’m a photographer. I can’t paint or draw or make things out of clay. I tried it once, but my pot always slid off the potter’s wheel long before it resembled anything.”

“Shame. It’s funny I would have assumed art ran in families, though I suppose photography is a form. I just remembered, we have a picture of Susan’s. I don’t think she painted many, but she did one for us.” Lorna rushed to the other side of the room, returning a few seconds later holding a framed picture measuring about two feet by one.

“Look! Isn’t this beautiful?”

Cassandra looked and indeed it was. In fact, it was unbearably beautiful. After seeing Susan’s small animal sculptures, she guessed the standard of her work was high, but she was unprepared for this. The picture was of a child, a boy sitting on a moss-covered rock with swirls of mist behind him. It was the boy’s eyes which held Cassandra’s attention. They were huge and violet-coloured, perfectly matching the tufts of heather growing at his feet. A basket of toys lay beside him, and it was this which held the clue. The boy was about ten years old, but the toys were for a much younger child. Should there have been another child playing alongside the boy in the heather? It was a mystery, and Cassandra knew it was one she couldn’t ask without upsetting Lorna.

Lorna sniffed and looked at Cassandra. “Susan hadn’t been well because of the flu, and Beth and I kept her supplied with food. She painted the picture as a thank you. It’s one of my most prized possessions, especially since Susan rarely painted anything. She said she much preferred to work on a sculpture of some sort.”

Cassandra felt Elizabeth’s eyes upon her, and she wondered if the picture reminded poor pathetic Lorna of the child she lost. She was curious to know about the boy, but something told her she should keep quiet on the subject.

She knew that when Angus escorted her to Susan’s exhibition, she would have to get him to tell her everything he remembered about her sister. For the first time, she felt Susan was reaching out, and she was on the brink of knowing her.

Chapter 16 January 2013, Inverdarroch

As she walked home, not only was Cassandra aware Elizabeth and Lorna were watching her departure from behind their net curtains, but she was sure several other hostile stares were following her. Out of the corner of her eye she looked for tell-tale twitching curtains or vague reflections on the glass. She suppressed a shudder…she never considered herself a dramatic person, but she couldn’t rid the feeling that her every move was being watched…ever since she had arrived, in fact. It was odd and unsettling; why was she being watched? She shrugged off the thoughts, thinking it was to be expected in a small, insular village.

Back at the cottage, she glanced at her watch, resolving not to be idle. There were still a few good daylight hours left to get on with her walls. She changed into some old jeans and a pair of tatty trainers to match, before tying her hair back with a band.

Sorting out some brushes and a paint roller she looked round for the paint and remembered she had left the can in the shed. Cassandra went back outside, pushed open the door, and gasped in horror. Wherever she looked, every wall and surface was daubed or splattered in globs of sticky white paint.

Who on earth could have done this? Shocked, Cassandra staggered back from the mess, shaking all over. She knew real fear back down in England; her job in the early days occasionally led her into places she would rather not have gone. But this was a blatant trespass on her property. Not only that, it was wanton destruction. Someone didn’t want her in Inverdarroch and was hell-bent on getting rid of Cassandra by trashing the house. Thank God she had locked the cottage up before leaving that morning. Heaven knows what wreckage would have been done if the culprit had entered her home.

Home! She called the cottage ‘home’ for the first time. And this seemed to deepen her resolve. She didn’t know who had done this or when, but she wasn’t going to let it drive her away.

She found an empty bucket, a brush, and some cloths. Hot water and a great deal of scrubbing would clean up some of the mess.

About an hour later, Cassandra heard someone knocking on the door. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she left the shed and went to see who was calling.

A familiar lean and rangy figure stood on the step looking outwards at her unkempt garden. Cassandra felt her heart give an unexpected jolt when he directed his deep-blue gaze on her. For the second time in his company, she wished she was wearing something more attractive. This was ridiculous, she chided. She was an adult, but the sight of an attractive man such as Angus standing on her front doorstep set her heart racing and her knees go weak and wobbly. For the first time in ages, she felt entirely feminine and something bordering on pathetic.

“Angus.”

He must have sensed something by her posture or in her voice. With two long strides he was by her side and peering down at her with a look of concern in his eyes. “What is it? Has something happened, Cassandra? You’re filthy and covered in paint. Have you had an accident?”

His words brought back memories of the morning, and she found her knees shaking even more. Horrified, she felt like bursting out crying, and to her dismay, two large fat tears slid down her cheeks. For goodness sake, she never blubbed in front of strangers! What was happening to her?

Angus stepped closer, and Cassandra felt his arms on her shoulders. He scrutinised her face, gently lifting her chin with his fingers, and raised his eyebrows in concern. “Hey! Please don’t cry. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

Unable to trust herself to speak, she jerked her head back in the direction of the shed. Angus dropped his arms, turned and strode into the building with Cassandra on his heels. He took one look around the place and shot her a questioning look.

“I was out this morning and came home sometime after twelve and found this. I found a can of paint earlier and planned on freshening up some of the walls. Angus, who would do this horrible thing?”

He looked back at the mess, shaking his head. “I’ve no idea. This is awful. How long were you out? I take it you didn’t lock up.”

“The cottage was, but not here. I left home about ten-ish.”

“Who knew you’d gone out? Did you see anyone as you left?”

Cassandra thought back to her morning’s activities and shook her head. “Not when I first left the house. I went along to Donald and Fiona’s. She came round this morning and invited me over for coffee. I stayed there for about three quarters of an hour. Then I called in at the farm and saw Mrs Campbell. Two of her sons were in the yard. Shortly after, I was on my way back here when I saw Elizabeth Blackmore in her front garden. We chatted and then her sister joined us and invited me in. Unfortunately, I stayed longer than I’d have liked, as Lorna…well, it doesn’t matter. The point is if I’d come back sooner, I might have caught whomever did this in the act.”

Angus listened, his frown a deep furrow. “So quite a few people saw you out and about, and as you visited three different places, you were gone for a while. There was plenty of time for someone to slip in and do their worst. It looks awful, but it wouldn’t have taken more than a minute to throw this little lot around. The offender could have left by going round the back. Chances are nobody would have seen them. I’m really sorry this has happened.”

Cassandra looked down at her clothes and pulled a face. “I’m filthy because I’ve cleaned most of it up. I think I’ve done all I can. Thankfully, it’s in an outside shed and not indoors.”

“Yes, I suppose it’s something.”

Cassandra suddenly wondered why Angus had called round and asked the question.

He looked decidedly handsome, she thought, when he explained. “Actually, I was coming to see if you were free this afternoon and evening. I know it’s short notice, but you remember I mentioned Susan’s exhibition yesterday? I rang the venue and was told it’s only on for two more days. Seeing as heavy snow is forecast this week, I thought we’d go today. But after seeing this, you might not want to.” His voice trailed away and he looked uncertain.

Cassandra did some quick thinking. She was confused and not sure what to do for the best. Should she stay there in case someone came round again? Would she want to confront him or her? Was this person dangerous or just malicious? Or should she go with Angus, enjoy the ride and his company, and view her sister’s exhibition? Chances were, the guilty person wouldn’t call again, and Cassandra knew which option she preferred: Angus.

But was Angus as innocent as he came across? She stared at him, seeing only frankness reflected in his eyes. Surely if he was bothering to suggest she spend the day with him she should trust him.

“I’d love to come. Give me ten minutes to change and freshen up.”

He smiled. “Good girl. I’ll go home and get my car. I’ll toot when I’m outside.”

As soon as he had gone, Cassandra rushed indoors and rifled through her meagre wardrobe. Apart from thick winter sweaters and jeans, she hadn’t worn anything more girlish or pretty when staying there. In desperation, she turned out the chest of drawers and found a silky blouse and top whose colours contrasted nicely. She possessed one pair of smart black trousers and almost danced for joy when she remembered she had brought her diamond stud earrings with her. When she left her flat, one of her last thoughts was about leaving it empty. She had few treasures, but her earrings belonged to her late grandmother.

Nine minutes later—washed, brushed, fresh lip-stick applied, and dressed—Cassandra eagerly sped down the stairs to wait for Angus. She repeated her morning’s action in front of the mirror by her door, appraising her face and body. She wondered about Angus. He was a bit older than she was, tall, drop-dead gorgeous, and as far as she knew, his status was the very sexy
single
. It had been years since she really fancied a man.

Cassandra’s past affairs had all been rather short-lived. There had been one or two men, whom she considered special, but for some reason, once her mother met them, any sort of relationship soon fizzled out and died a death. She recalled Daphne Potter’s words, when she was in her early twenties. “Cassandra, darling, no man is going to look twice at a woman who is overweight, doesn’t choose her clothes with care, or neaten up her eyebrows. Look at you! Your hands need a good manicure, your hair is straggly, and goodness me, have you another spot on your face?” Her mother’s words cut to the quick, and Cassandra understood that since she remembered them so clearly, she must have been really hurt.