Trapped and tackled, p.13
The Party House, page 13
Perhaps sensing this, she reached up and kissed him. For a brief moment he responded, just as he would have done in times gone by, before withdrawing and apologizing.
A flash of anger in her eyes told him the apology had been a mistake.
‘Caroline,’ he tried.
‘Don’t Caroline me.’ She studied him. ‘So, I’ve to lie to the detective even though you feel nothing for me any more?’
‘That’s not true,’ he began.
‘What’s not true? That I have to lie or that you feel nothing?’
‘We’ve not been together for a while now. It was the lockdown. You know that.’
‘Well, we weren’t all obeying lockdown all of the time. Were we, Greg?’
The barb hit home. Before he could respond, he heard Malcolm shouting for him.
‘We’ll talk properly at another time, I promise,’ Greg said.
For a moment her gaze softened. ‘You’ve made promises in the past,’ she said quietly. ‘The problem is you don’t know how to keep them.’
Coming out of the cellar, Greg was even more discomforted to discover Joanne standing at the bar.
‘Here you go,’ Malcolm said, handing her a large glass of white wine. ‘On the house, Joanne. Or maybe I’ll take it out of Greg’s wages,’ he joked.
‘It seems to be going well,’ Joanne said, filling the awkward silence that followed Malcolm’s attempts at levity.
Greg finally found his voice, although all he could think about was what had just gone down with Caroline in the cellar. ‘It is. They’ve already emptied one beer barrel.’
Caroline, who’d followed him out, gave Joanne the briefest nod of acknowledgement, then informed Greg she was going to the kitchen to help with the stovies.
‘What are stovies?’ Joanne said, obviously mystified.
Malcolm laughed. ‘I’ll leave it to Greg to explain.’
‘A Scottish delicacy,’ Greg told her.
‘You mean like haggis?’
‘Different, but equally tasty.’ He met her eyes for the first time since his emergence from the cellar.
Joanne seemed to gather herself before saying, ‘I need to tell you something.’
That was music to his ears. ‘Okay. D’you want to go outside for a bit? It’s noisy in here.’
Telling Malcolm they were going out for some air, he led Joanne through the crowd, many of whom smiled at her as she passed.
‘They like you,’ Greg said as they emerged into the night air.
‘I’m glad I didn’t make trouble for you by coming here tonight.’
‘You’re no trouble,’ he said. ‘But we do need to talk. I saw—’
At that moment, a big black 4x4 came along Main Street and drew up opposite them.
‘What the fuck,’ Greg said as he realized who was inside.
‘Hey, Taylor,’ Stratton called over on exiting the vehicle. ‘And Maya. What a surprise. You didn’t mention you knew my head keeper when we met earlier today?’
As Greg felt Joanne quickly free her hand from his own, his main thought was: who the fuck was Maya?
Greg
Ignoring Stratton’s shout, Greg pulled Joanne into the shadows, then down the track that led to the back of the hotel.
‘I need to explain about what Stratton said,’ she began.
‘Later,’ he said, trying to keep a hold of his simmering anger that what he’d seen from the hill hadn’t been a mirage.
The truth was, he was desperate for an explanation or even a confession, but this wasn’t the moment. Not with what was about to go down inside the pub.
Besides, he’d just kissed Caroline in the cellar. Was he planning to immediately confess to that? Re-entering via the kitchen door, they found Caroline and Karla busy dishing up the stovies.
‘Where the hell did you two go? We need your help to serve these,’ Caroline said with an angry glance at Joanne.
‘Explain what’s happening,’ Greg told Joanne. ‘I have to warn Malcolm.’
On entering the bar, he realized he was already too late.
Malcolm threw him a relieved look. ‘Glad you’re back. Look who just strode in,’ he said worriedly. ‘Stay here, I’ll speak to them.’
The Party House group of five (no Naomi, Greg noted) was standing in the open doorway like an invading army, with Stratton leading the charge, the fabricated bonhomie of their earlier meetings on display.
The crowd, suddenly sensing the invasion, began to hush and stare at the incomers. The band stopped playing. Malcolm approached and politely explained that the bar wasn’t accessible tonight because of a private function. He alerted them to the sign outside, explaining exactly that.
‘It was to be in the village hall, but the police have taken that over, so it had to be moved here,’ he said in a conciliatory voice. ‘We’ll be open tomorrow as normal.’ He didn’t add, ‘come back and see us then’ as he’d done with a few earlier visitors who’d strayed their way.
‘We’re happy to pay for entry or give a donation.’ Aidan smiled like a man used to money buying anything and everything.
Annoyed murmurs began to move through the room like a mounting wave.
Malcolm, ever the peacemaker, thanked him, but repeated firmly that it was a private function and not open to the general public.
Spotting Greg behind the bar, Stratton called out to him. ‘Come on, Taylor, tell them we’re okay.’
As all eyes turned his way to see what his response might be, Greg knew what he must do.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Stratton, as I explained earlier, this is a private function arranged by the community council for local residents only.’
That wasn’t what Stratton expected or wanted to hear from his head keeper.
‘Since I am one of the owners of the Blackrig Estate,’ Stratton said coldly, ‘I consider myself a local.’
The audacity of this statement didn’t go down well with his audience. As he began his walk to the bar, the crowd surged forward to block his route.
Shouts of ‘Fuck off’ and ‘Bastard’ peppered the air. Josh and his mates, who’d been standing near the stage, began to push through the crowd towards him.
‘You murdered my wee sister, you fucking bastard,’ Josh shouted as he flew at Stratton.
Greg was already out from behind the bar and on his way into the melee, Malcolm pushing through from the opposite direction.
Greg got there first to drag Josh off his boss and secure him, while Malcolm tried to help a shaken Stratton to his feet.
Shouts of ‘Police, break it up’ were quickly followed by the arrival of Snyder with two male officers, one of them Harry.
As the crowd parted to let them through, all went silent, except for laboured breathing from Stratton in particular.
‘That man assaulted me. Arrest him,’ Stratton demanded.
‘Right, you and you’ – Snyder pointed at Josh and Stratton – ‘outside.’ He nodded at Malcolm and Greg. ‘You too. The rest stay in here.’ His tone brooked no argument.
Greg did as asked, fully aware that his job with Global Investment Holdings might well have just ended. At that moment he didn’t give a damn. He’d tried to warn Stratton, but the bastard just wouldn’t listen.
Out now in the street, Snyder stood in silence for a moment before addressing Stratton. ‘That was a private function, Mr Stratton. It says so clearly on the sign. Why did you force entry to it?’
Stratton was regaining his cool. Ignoring the question, he said, ‘That man,’ pointing at Josh, ‘assaulted me, officer, in front of witnesses. I demand he be charged.’
Behind Greg, the group who’d managed to cram in the doorway breathed in as one.
Snyder’s firm expression didn’t alter. ‘I repeat, why did you force entry to a private party, sir?’
Greg had been impressed with the detective when under his penetrating gaze. He was even more so now.
‘As owner of the Blackrig Estate, I am entitled to enter,’ Stratton declared.
Watching Snyder’s expression, Greg thought he caught the fleeting glimpse of a wry smile at Stratton’s statement, before the policeman said, ‘I disagree. You are a visitor and should have left when asked by the proprietor.’
Stratton decided to resort to threats. ‘If you don’t arrest this man for assault, I will have to speak to your superior.’
Snyder gave a brief nod. ‘You are free to do that, sir. Now, I’d like you and your group to leave these folk to get on with their private party.’
Eventually the group moved back to the vehicle and climbed in. As it took off in the direction of the Party House, Greg heard a huge cheer rise from the crowd inside the pub.
Malcolm clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Well done removing Josh from the fray. If you’d got that punch in, boy,’ he told Josh, ‘you would have been charged with assault.’
Josh looked as though he might say something, but a glance from Snyder stopped him.
Back inside, Greg headed for the bar, receiving claps on the back as he passed with a nod and a half-smile.
It was over for Josh maybe, but not for him. Stratton wasn’t one to let things go. He would pay for his insurrection in some fashion and more than likely with his job.
Snyder, entering behind Greg, followed him to the bar.
‘I’d like us to talk again tomorrow morning, Mr Taylor. Come for an interview at nine o’clock.’
‘I can’t, Inspector. I have to take my employer, Mr Stratton, and his party out stalking. If I don’t, I stand to lose my job. Especially after tonight,’ he added.
Snyder seemed to think about that for a moment before sliding his card over the counter.
‘Call me to arrange a time, Mr Taylor.’
Turning on his heel, the DI stopped on his way back to the hotel lounge and had a few quiet words with Josh. Whatever was said, Josh didn’t like it.
‘What did he say to you?’ Greg asked when Josh came for a drink.
‘He wants me for an interview tomorrow first thing.’ Josh assumed a defiant air and ordered up a pint.
Greg slid it over, gratis. ‘Thanks for doing what I’ve wanted to do for a very long time.’
As Caroline and Joanne appeared to finally start serving up the stovies, Greg asked Joanne if she’d tasted them.
‘I persuaded her to,’ Caroline said with a smile, ‘and she declared them delicious.’
The two women looked at one another and laughed.
Greg found himself uneasy at this sudden and unexpected female buddies’ routine. What was Caroline up to now?
As he concentrated on fulfilling the orders at the bar, plus accepting compliments for his handling of ‘that bastard, Stratton’, he couldn’t stop asking himself, what the hell was going on between them?
Was Caroline befriending Joanne in order to fill her in on a few incidents in his past or even in the present, which would likely involve her, or even worse, Ailsa?
Thinking of Joanne and their morning together at the lochan and then again tonight, when he’d seen her waiting for him at the bar, he resolved not to let that happen.
Joanne wasn’t part of his past, but she might be a part of his future. If he had one.
Later, as they walked home together under a bright moon, she stopped him when he tried to explain about Caroline.
‘I’ve something I have to tell you,’ she said.
He listened in silence as she explained about secretly visiting the Party House to check out the grave site. How shocked and embarrassed she’d been at being spotted by Aidan, who she’d met once at a Field Sports event.
‘I told him I was staying in the village, in case my being at Beanach might make things difficult for you.’
He wanted to ask her why she was photographing the grave and why Stratton had called her Maya, but knew, if he did, this moment between them would be broken.
And he didn’t want that. Just as he didn’t want her to demand he reveal everything he was hiding about Caroline.
He took her hand. ‘Ever made love under a full moon?’ he asked, glancing up at the sky.
‘No,’ she gave a little laugh, ‘but I’d like to.’
Joanne
An early call woke her next morning. Judging by the empty bed and silence from the rest of the house, Greg had already left to meet with his stalking party.
Checking the screen, she found Lucy’s name and swiftly answered.
‘I promise, I was planning on calling you today,’ she said, before Lucy could speak. When there was no immediate response to that, Joanne said, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘He was here late last night,’ Lucy said in a frightened tone.
‘What? How did he get your address?’
‘Who knows? Probably the police. He’s got enough contacts in the Met.’
She was right, he did.
‘What happened?’
‘He asked in that calm measured manner of his if I knew where you were.’
Joanne could see him in her mind’s eye doing exactly that. When they’d first met, she’d loved his low, melodious tones. Even in court, she thought he often won his cases because of that voice. A voice suffused with honesty and calm integrity. Whatever Richard said his client did or didn’t do had to be true. Didn’t it?
‘I said I thought you were on a research trip for an article, but I didn’t know where.’ Lucy halted there for a moment as though to gain strength to continue. ‘He asked for your new number. I declined, saying it was up to you to give out your number, not me.’ Her voice faltered a little. ‘He was trying to persuade me in that way he has. Luckily, Paul came to my rescue and politely but firmly sent him packing.’
Joanne was horrified. ‘I’m so sorry. I never thought he’d turn up at your place. Thank God Paul was there.’
‘He’s decided to stay here for a while.’ Lucy didn’t add, ‘in case Richard comes back’, although it was implicit in her tone.
‘He’s determined to find you,’ she went on. ‘Don’t put anything up online that might identify where you are.’ Her voice suggested the warning was in earnest. ‘Not if you don’t want him to turn up there.’
‘I was in two minds whether to do that anyway, for a variety of reasons,’ Joanne said. ‘I don’t want to do anything behind Greg’s back.’
‘So it’s more serious now?’ Lucy said.
‘I don’t know what it is,’ Joanne admitted. She considered mentioning the fact that Aidan Stratton was here and that he’d seen her, but decided not to worry Lucy any more than she was already.
‘Stay safe, please,’ Lucy said as she rang off. ‘And for God’s sake keep your head down. He’ll give up eventually,’ she added, more in hope than certainty.
If only that were true, Joanne thought later as she mulled over her conversation with Lucy with a mug of coffee.
On a positive note, if Richard had come looking for her number from Lucy then the couple of calls to her new mobile had likely been spam. So she could stop worrying about them at least.
But she would have to worry about Aidan Stratton. Richard and Aidan weren’t actually friends – in fact, he’d once expressed his distaste for Aidan to her. However, they did move in similar circles and if they were to encounter one another, she was pretty sure Aidan would say where he’d last seen her.
She had to face up to it. Being spotted by Aidan had been a disaster. She chastised herself for failing to ask about the people staying at the Party House, just in case she might know anyone. Then she would have been more on her guard.
Still, there was nothing she could do about that now.
She thought back to last night and the time she’d spent with Caroline. Things had definitely changed between them during her spell in the kitchen. Once away from Greg, Caroline had been demonstratively chatty and friendly.
She’d been told by Caroline that Greg was a nice guy, who deserved to be happy. That he would need Joanne’s support during the investigation. ‘That is if you intend to stay?’ Caroline had added.
It was a question Joanne didn’t have an answer to, so she didn’t offer one.
‘He was pretty cut up when Ailsa Cummings went missing,’ Caroline had continued.
‘I thought you were her friend,’ Joanne had blurted out at that point. She’d thought that Caroline was about to deny this, but eventually she’d nodded.
‘Everyone was shattered, the men especially, because they were all under suspicion and everyone was blaming everyone else.’ She’d continued, ‘Greg couldn’t stand it and went away for a while, but he loves this place, so I knew he’d come back.’ She’d said this with a satisfied smile and Joanne had wondered why.
Had he come back because of Caroline? Or did she just think he had?
‘Now it’s all started again.’ Caroline had forced a smile at that point, before finishing with, ‘But not tonight. Tonight is about fun and stovies.’
‘Are you going to tell me what they are?’ Joanne had said, relieved to get off the topic of Greg and the investigation.
‘Sit down and I’ll give you a plate. Plus a malt whisky chaser to go alongside.’
Dragging her thoughts back to the present, Joanne opened her laptop. She’d told Lucy she wasn’t sure about publishing her piece, but that didn’t mean she was going to stop writing it. The story of Ailsa’s disappearance and the subsequent discovery of a body, yet to be declared as the missing teenager, intrigued her. The fact that it was also seemingly linked to the Party House made it even more compelling.
She flipped through the photos she’d taken, finishing with the one of the covered grave site.
If it was confirmed as Ailsa’s body, its discovery occurred almost five years after she’d disappeared. Had the Party House been built then? Had she been killed beside the loch or did the killer take her there later? Who had access to the beach area at that time?
Her mind swam with questions about when Ard Choille had been built and when the slabs at the lochside had been put down. Had the body been buried before the slabs were laid or had they been lifted in order to bury it?
Burying a body wouldn’t be easy. Plus she now knew from her research that a buried body caused the surface vegetation to change and the ground to sink as the remains decayed, but surely the concrete slabs would cover that?
