The Christmas Puzzle (Pitkirtly Mysteries Book 8) (19 page)

Chapter 27 Tidying up

‘I’m in position in the research room,’ said Jemima’s voice.

‘Have you found it yet?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘Is it as we thought?’

‘Yes, dear, of course it is. You were clever working it all out like that… I’d better get off the line now, hadn’t I?’

‘Check. Over and out.’ Amaryllis was just about to press the button to stop the call when Jemima spoke again.

‘Roger, wilco.’

‘I don’t think you need to say that, dear,’ said Dave’s voice faintly in the background. ‘She’s gone, anyway.’

‘No, I’m still here,’ said Amaryllis. ‘But I’m going now.’

She clicked to stop the call. Her phone rang again immediately.

‘Standing by,’ reported Jock.

‘Standing by? I’d have thought you’d be walking along by now.’

‘Yes, well. We’ve been waiting outside his house a while. But I think there’s still time.’

‘Make sure he knows it’s urgent.’

‘Fine. Thanks,’ said Tricia, who must have grabbed the phone from Jock.

Amaryllis made a mental note to try and break Tricia of her habit of thanking people all the time, even when she was doing them a favour. She would never learn not to let them take advantage of her otherwise.

Still no word from Christopher. In some ways his part was the most problematic, and she had hesitated before letting him do what he was scheduled in to do. After all, he wasn’t trained in dealing with those situations as she was. But he had been quite adamant about it. Unusual for Christopher to be adamant, she mused, wondering whether to call him or not. His face more naturally fell into an expression of resigned agreement.

The phone rang again.

‘We’re at the old army huts,’ said Zak. ‘We’ve set it all up. We’re going over to the boat now.’

‘Just keep out of sight, and wait for the signal,’ said Amaryllis. ‘Don’t get too near the action, whatever happens.’

‘You’ve got it,’ said Zak.

‘And call me back if you see anything unexpected.’

‘Check.’

The phone rang again.

‘Did you want us all to call in?’ said Christopher uncertainly.

‘Yes, that was the idea. Is everything all right?’

‘Fine, I think. We’re on our way out of the restaurant now.’

‘Good. I’ll activate the plan.’ She paused for a moment and said, ‘Take care.’

It wasn’t the kind of thing Amaryllis usually said. She tended to assume most rational people would look out for themselves first and worry about anyone else later even if she didn’t remind them to be careful. But Christopher just might be an exception to that rule.

Giancarlo had helped her to arrange the meal in the restaurant, and he had even convinced the woman it was a prize she had won in some sort of Christmas raffle. Nobody ever remembered buying tickets for that kind of thing, so there was little chance of being caught out.

Amaryllis was very surprised that all her friends now seemed to have learned to use their mobile phones at last. Perhaps her nagging over the years had paid off. Time would tell whether they still had the things switched on when she tried to call them, but so far, so good.

‘Hey, there!’ shouted someone.

Her heart sank. It was Bruce, crossing the road to speak to her. He was one of the last people she wanted to see at the moment. He would only hold up the final phone call, or complicate things in some way even she hadn’t been able to foresee.

‘Amaryllis!’ he said as he came up to her.

‘Bruce,’ she replied, her tone carefully neutral.

‘Are you waiting for the bus?’

It was a reasonable enough deduction, as she was standing at the bus stop opposite the Queen of Scots. She had to suppress annoyance all the same.

‘Not really.’

‘I’m going into town.’

‘Edinburgh?’

‘Dunfermline. I’m staying the night with my brother and his wife – he hasn’t been too well, you know – and going shopping in the morning. My wife wants some buttons. She’s been knitting again.’

He said it as other people might announce their spouse had taken to drink again, or developed some serious illness, in a lugubrious voice with accompanying grimace.

‘Good,’ said Amaryllis.

‘You can’t get buttons in Pitkirtly these days. I remember when there was a little haberdasher’s shop just about where that takeaway is. You know the one with the big banner outside. It used to sell all sorts of useful stuff – ribbons, elastic, buttons, just about everything a woman might need.’

‘If the woman’s doing something domestic,’ said Amaryllis.

‘Oh yes, and then there was the hardware shop further up the road. I think it was about where the newsagent’s is now. But it was bigger then – I think it must have taken in the shop next-door too.’ He sighed. ‘Nowhere to get those little hinges either. Or model railway paint.’

‘Doesn’t Jan sell buttons?’ said Amaryllis, not really wanting to get involved in his trip down memory lane, but having the urge to promote a friend’s business.

‘Jan? Oh, the wool shop. No, the wife won’t go in there – she had a difference of opinion with the owner a little while ago, and she vowed never to set foot in the place again.’

Damn! Why wouldn’t he just walk up to the other bus stop and get out of the way? What did he have to go to Dunfermline on the last bus for? Why couldn’t he have waited and set off in the morning? Not only was he now definitely the last person she wanted to see, but he was putting the whole mission in jeopardy. Not a mission, she corrected herself, absolutely not a mission. It was a task. A trap for someone they all hoped wouldn’t suspect anything. Any resemblance between it and the kind of mission she used to carry out as a spy was purely coincidental.

‘I’ve called a halt to all our projects for a bit,’ he said suddenly.

‘Projects?’

‘FOOP and so on. Having a break from it.’ He looked at her expectantly, as if he thought she might ask him why, but after a pause he told her anyway. ‘Jason’s gone.’

‘Gone?’

‘He’s gone back home. To London. He said something about other commitments.’

Amaryllis allowed herself a small smile of triumph. She already knew this from Christopher but there was no harm in wallowing in it. Jason hadn’t liked the fact that he had been discovered attempting to forge a set of Roman ruins. She hoped he wouldn’t be back for a long time.

‘It isn’t a good time of year for digging, anyway,’ said Bruce. ‘He might come back in the spring. I think that’s what Tamara’s hoping for. She hasn’t given up on some sort of Celtic symbol stone, or evidence of a ritual site, and she always thought he’d be the one to track it down.’

A bus appeared in the distance. Amaryllis couldn’t make out where it was heading for. Did she need to go for an eye test? All the buses in and out of Pitkirtly came past this stop eventually, so there were at least two possibilities. She hoped it would be the one Bruce wanted so that she could get rid of him. Christopher must be nearly here by now. It wasn’t far from the Petrellis’ to the Queen of Scots.

It was the right bus. With one last wave, Bruce climbed on board. She was afraid of being too friendly in case he changed his mind at the last minute, but the driver must have been in a hurry, because he didn’t even wait until Bruce had found a seat before he pulled away and headed up to the main road as if the ghost of Hamlet’s father were after him.

Amaryllis retreated to the minimal shelter of the Queen of Scots, and took out her phone. Unlike most people, she kept it charged up and ready for such occasions.

She had the number saved, so it was just a case of pressing a couple of buttons.

‘Pitkirtly police liaison here,’ she said in her official voice, after establishing that she had the right number. ‘We’ve located your father and the dog.’

There was a surprised exclamation at the other end of the line, as if she hadn’t known her father was missing, as indeed he wasn’t.

‘They’ve gone off to Pitkirtly Island and managed to get themselves trapped by the incoming tide.... Yes, we’re sure it’s them. Can you come at once? The officers will meet you just before you get to the old army huts.’

She pressed the final button. It was done.

She turned to leave the spot and collided with Charlie Smith in the doorway of the pub.

‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’ he enquired, pushing the dog gently back inside.

‘I just wanted to loiter here unobtrusively for a moment,’ she said.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Up to no good again? Do you want me to look the other way?’

‘Probably best for you if you do. And don’t walk the dog for the next hour or two either, if you don’t want to get involved.’

‘Involved? Not me. I’m enjoying the quiet life these days.’

Amaryllis slipped out of the Queen of Scots doorway and lurked nearby, keeping close to the harbour wall behind the tram. Of course the woman only had to glance over this way and she would spot Amaryllis, and the game would be up, but Christopher probably had things well in hand.

‘I’ll go in for now,’ said Charlie, ‘but I’m coming back out in ten minutes. You’d better be gone by then.’

‘Don’t go too far away,’ said Amaryllis. ‘We may need a dog handler.’

He gave her a look, and disappeared into the pub.

A woman came round the corner, glanced over at the tram and walked on, in front of the Queen of Scots and along the road that led to the old station and beyond.

Seven minutes later Christopher walked briskly after her. Amaryllis had instructed him to look as if he knew where he was going, and not to acknowledge he was following the woman even if she turned and stared at him. He had agreed to speak to her in the restaurant only if she spoke to him first, and had promised faithfully not to do anything to draw attention to himself. They all knew where she was going, of course, so he didn’t have to stick too close to her.

After making one more phone call to double-check on Jock and Tricia, Amaryllis slid out of her dark place and followed him. She wanted to see how this worked out. She had been in two minds about whether to stay near the Queen of Scots and make sure their prey was heading for the trap, or to go out to the Island and lie in wait there.

It was extremely dark once the street lights ran out. There was an occasional flash of light up ahead. The woman must have a torch in her pocket. How well-prepared of her. But then, they already knew she sometimes walked this way in the dark.

Something rattled and clicked. The latch on the gate by the railway line.

She saw a flash of light from Christopher’s torch, which she had provided, even checking the batteries for him in case he didn’t think of it. She caught up with him silently. There was no longer any need for them to do this separately. They walked quietly side by side, not even looking at each other.

Once they got over the railway line, nobody’s footsteps made a sound any more, and the darkness was broken up slightly by the glow in the sky at the other side of the river above Grangemouth, and the street lights of the other little towns along the coast.

The torch beam ahead of them flickered a little. Don’t go out, Amaryllis told it, trying to focus all her will-power on it.

They walked down the path they knew would lead them to the old army huts. There was a small splash from the water at the other side of the bank. Amaryllis hoped Zak wasn’t doing anything silly with the boat. But he had Harriet there to keep an eye on him, after all.

Amaryllis paused, brought cupped hands to her mouth and made her best owl sound.

The wailing and moaning started so suddenly that Christopher dropped his torch.

‘Damn!’ He bent down to try and find it, but the light had gone out and he had to feel for it.

‘Just leave it,’ hissed Amaryllis. ‘There’s going to be enough light in a minute.’

‘But it’s...’

‘Sssh!’

‘I don’t know why you’re shushing me. I can’t hear myself think with all that wailing,’ complained Christopher. ‘Do they have to be so loud?’

They progressed along the path in the direction of the din and almost collided with someone who was standing as if transfixed, staring into the darkness. She had both hands up to her face, and as she still held the torch in one, the light shone unevenly on her features, unflatteringly emphasising her nose and eyebrows but casting her chin into shadow.

‘Ancient voices,’ she murmured. Her voice rose in terror. ‘Ancient voices.... Go away, you awful old woman! Get out of my life! I thought I’d got rid of you... What will it take to make you disappear for good?’

Now she was moaning in hideous harmony with the other voices.

‘They’re overdoing it a bit, aren’t they?’ Christopher whispered to Amaryllis.

‘You can’t overdo this kind of thing,’ she whispered back.

The wailing stopped, started again and seemed to come closer.

‘No! Go away! Leave me alone you silly wee girl! It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t trip you up.’

The woman in front of them started to move forward.