Closer to Death in a Garden (Pitkirtly Mysteries Book 10) Page 2

  She did spare a moment to worry that he might be seriously ill, but fortunately when the ambulance at last came out and turned on to the road, they didn’t put the lights or the siren on, so she assumed it wasn’t as bad as it might be.

  ‘How did you know?’ said Jemima, and then, almost at once, ‘Mind that alpaca!’

  Amaryllis slammed on the brakes as a large animal loomed out of the hedge at the far side of the road and crossed in front of the car in a leisurely manner.

  ‘Are you sure it isn’t a llama?’ she enquired.

  ‘Oh, there was a woman with it the last time and she told us it was an alpaca,’ said Jemima. ‘Hadn’t we better get on now or we’ll lose the ambulance?’

  They drove on.

  ‘Do you think it’s bad luck having an alpaca cross the road in front of you?’ said Jemima thoughtfully as they negotiated the roundabout and came out on to the main road that would eventually lead to the Forth Road Bridge if they followed it far enough. ‘You know how it’s unlucky if a black cat crosses in front of you the wrong way? I can’t remember if it’s left to right or right to left.’

  ‘I’ve never heard that one before,’ said Amaryllis, worrying slightly more than before about Jemima’s mental state. ‘Did the alpaca belong to the woman you saw?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. She was trying to catch it.’

  There was a sniff, and when Amaryllis glanced round quickly she saw two tears roll down Jemima’s face.

  ‘We talked about llamas,’ said Jemima, gulping a little. ‘What if that’s one of the last things we ever talk about? Why couldn’t it have been something more – more important, like evolution, or Fermat’s last theorem?’

  ‘What do you know about Fermat’s last theorem?’ said Amaryllis cautiously. Maybe she had slipped through a portal into a parallel universe, one where Jemima had a Ph.D. in mathematics and she herself was a typical 1950s housewife with apron and beehive hairdo.

  She didn’t think she’d be able to coax her hair into a beehive though, no matter what universe this was.

  ‘Nothing, really, except what was on that television programme,’ said Jemima.

  ‘Good,’ said Amaryllis, trying to adopt a bracing tone. ‘Is this the right way?’ she added as they followed the ambulance into a side street that petered out on a construction site.

  ‘I suppose they know a short cut,’ said Jemima doubtfully.

  The ambulance performed a seven-point turn in the road just ahead, where building workers were making rude gestures and shouting.

  ‘I wonder if I can get turned in here too,’ said Amaryllis.

  As they dutifully followed the ambulance back out of the site, Jemima asked again, ‘How did you know to come up to the garden centre?’

  Amaryllis was tempted either to claim some sort of telepathic power that would alert her whenever one of her friends was in danger, or to say she had hacked into the emergency services’ communications network, but this was no time to play mind games with Jemima, whose common sense would win in the end anyway.

  ‘I overheard Keith talking to Ashley about it on the phone. I was walking up past the hotel at the time so it wasn’t far to run.’

  ‘I don’t think I could run as far as that,’ said Jemima. ‘Not uphill. Not with my hip.’

  It was some time later that they wearily followed the ambulance into the parking bay for Accident and Emergency. Jemima had been grumbling about the delay ever since the building site fiasco. The ambulance driver still hadn’t put on the blue light or the siren, so Amaryllis surmised that things weren’t that desperate. She had thought of an alternative explanation, but it was too bad to mention, so she didn’t even suggest it.

  It was very much later that Amaryllis hit the road back towards Pitkirtly. Jemima and she had been kept waiting for hours while Dave had tests. They had only had a bar of chocolate between them all day, and in the end Jemima had to be admitted to a ward as well as Dave, after her legs crumpled under her as she stood up to go and see him at last, and she collapsed, to be caught by Amaryllis before reaching the floor. None of the medical staff seemed to know if she had actually lost consciousness or not, but she certainly did look a little paler than usual.

  ‘It could just be something they’ve both eaten,’ said one of the nurses to Amaryllis.

  ‘In Jemima’s case, it’s probably something she hasn’t eaten!’ said Amaryllis. ‘I didn’t realise we’d have to bring a picnic with us.’

  ‘Didn’t they show you the way to the coffee bar?’ said the nurse, and shook her head in disbelief. ‘Oh well, we’ll need to see how she is after she gets her tea. But we’ll have to keep her in now. The consultant will have a look at her and say whether it’s all right to let her go. We’ll probably need to get her medical records in from the surgery as well. You can ring in the morning for an update. I think they’ll both be fine though. Mr Douglas is looking better already.’

  Dave was indeed sitting up in bed arguing volubly with the sports commentator on the television about his criteria for a free kick. He seemed to have lost the greyish tinge to his skin, although perhaps the ward lights were specially designed to make people look healthier, so that their beds could be freed up more quickly.

  ‘Are you a relative?’ said the nurse as an afterthought.

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Amaryllis. ‘More of an in-law, really.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, then,’ said the nurse. ‘In-laws count too... You might be able to take one of them home tomorrow. We’ll have to see.’

  Amaryllis left her contact details, waved to Dave, who didn’t seem to have seen her, and set off for home...

  Well, not exactly home. It was more of a search for the lost alpaca really.

  She hadn’t intended to make a detour past the garden centre. It was quite a bit out of her way, and she had meant to zip along the coast road all the way hoping the speed cameras weren’t active after six in the evening. But she found herself thinking of the alpaca and the woman chasing it, and while she was distracted she found she had taken the minor road that wound its way round the back of the town, with sections that were more or less out in the country, if you defined the country as consisting of patches of woodland breaking up the oil-seed-rape fields, instead of the other minor road that gave you a close-up view of Pitkirtly Island, the Grangemouth petro-chemical works and the mud flats where the tide would probably just be turning to come back in, if her calculations were accurate. That route passed the Queen of Scots on its way into town. She had been quite tempted to pause there and show off the fact that Dave had entrusted her with his car. On the other hand, it wouldn’t then be fair to her friends to withhold the information that Dave was incapacitated and in hospital when he agreed to give her the car keys, but she didn’t want to start people pitying him. She knew what he would think of that.

  Simpler just to go the other way and see if she could catch another sighting either of the alpaca or of the woman whom Jemima and Dave had seen earlier.

  The garden centre was completely closed up for the night as she approached it. She had been thinking she might be able to park in their car park, but now she could see there were metal gates that swung right across in front of the gravelled area, and they were padlocked. There were no cars left in there. Ashley and the officious manager must have finished work sharply at the end of the day. Maybe Keith and Ashley had a date. Amaryllis found herself hoping it would go ahead as planned and not be called off because of Keith’s work.

  She frowned. Living in Pitkirtly was definitely making her soft in the head. She had never been at all interested in romantic relationships before, and particularly not in those of other people. If they wanted to while away their time in a fantasy world, that was up to them. She had better things to think about.

  She parked by pulling on to the grass verge at the opposite side of the road from the garden centre. There was a small wood, and that was where the alpaca had emerged just as she had turned out of the garden centre in pursuit of
the ambulance. Evidently the woman hadn’t been successful in catching it. She could have simply given up and gone home, or possibly to round up reinforcements, or perhaps the alpaca had overpowered her and left her lying in the wood. Or she had caught it the first time and it had escaped again.

  Amaryllis found she had no idea whether alpacas were fierce animals. Or whether they were renowned escapologists, for that matter. She had never known anyone keep one as a pet before. If the animal was a pet and didn’t represent some sort of income source, that was. Could you eat them, or was it more usual to harvest their wool? She supposed that there might be a lunatic fringe in a place like Pitkirtly – though the whole place was a lunatic fringe, for heaven’s sake! - where the subscribers to the lifestyle aspired to get back to nature and weave their own porridge and other life essentials.

  She glanced from the wood to the partly concealed entrance opposite it. Which way was worth investigating? At this point she almost gave up and drove on home, because her day had by all normal standards been a bit too exciting already. The only thing that made her want to have a closer look was the knowledge that the alpaca had still been apparently wandering on its own a little while after the woman had chased it. But of course quite a lot of time – hours – had elapsed since then. Perhaps the woman had recovered by now from the alpaca kick, if that was what had happened, and gone home, collecting the animal on the way and locking it up securely.

  Amaryllis just had to make sure of that.

  She locked up Dave’s car and headed over to check out the concealed entrance. There were tall hedges on either side of a set of closed double gates. The kind with a remote control lock and security cameras.

  Amaryllis had an aversion to security cameras. She stepped back when she noticed them. It was nature’s way of telling her she should find another way in. She had a feeling there wouldn’t be another way, or at least there wouldn’t be one that didn’t involve some wrestling with either razor wire or a team of highly trained attack dogs.

  She frowned, standing irresolute on the grass verge. What were the chances of finding a way in from the garden centre side? But it probably had its own security. She couldn’t imagine the unpleasant Mr Anderson failing to protect his property as aggressively when he wasn’t there as when he could be rude to customers in person.

  What was on the other side? She wasn’t sure whether the hotel grounds extended far enough up the hill to adjoin the alpaca keeper’s property or not.

  But there was only one way to find out.

  Amaryllis set out down the road to establish where the perimeter ran.

  Chapter 3 Nothing to see here...

  ‘I’m going in.’

  ‘In where?’ said Christopher, trying not to sound as bewildered as he felt.

  ‘Into the alpaca farm. I wanted to let someone know, in case I don’t come out the other side. Or the same side. I don’t know which side yet.’

  Amaryllis wasn’t making any sense, but that could be because he had had a few too many pints of Old Pictish Brew. Keith Burnet had told Charlie Smith about Dave being rushed to hospital, and they were all drowning their sorrows.

  He had vaguely wondered where Amaryllis was, as it wasn’t like her to miss a group drowning of sorrows, but Jock McLean had an idea she had gone to help Stewie and the wee girl re-paint Mrs Petrelli’s flat, and she would probably pop in later.

  ‘Alpaca farm? What’s that?’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure it’s an actual farm yet. There might only be one of them. I’m going in to make sure it’s all right.’

  The line crackled a little at the end of the sentence. She still wasn’t making any sense.

  He wondered if she wanted him to go and help with the alpacas. He wouldn’t have known what to do with them anyway, even without the Old Pictish Brew.

  She seemed to have rung off. Christopher returned to the bar to consult Charlie.

  ‘Do you know anything about alpacas?’

  ‘Are they the animals that are sometimes mistaken for llamas?’ said Charlie.

  ‘Maybe.’ That was more than Christopher himself knew about them.

  ‘Some woman up at the back of the town keeps them,’ said Jock McLean out of the blue.

  ‘How do you know that?’ said Christopher accusingly.

  ‘I just do... I keep my eyes open, you know.’

  ‘I think Amaryllis is going to do something silly,’ said Christopher.

  ‘That wouldn’t be unheard-of,’ commented Charlie. He leaned his elbows on the bar. ‘How silly?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Christopher. ‘She was going on about an alpaca farm and making sure it was all right.’

  ‘Sounds like she might be planning one of her break-ins,’ said Charlie, straightening up and collecting a couple of glasses to dry. They heard the dog giving a kind of half-growl from its position behind the bar, as if in disapproval.

  Jock sighed. ‘I kind of miss the wee white dog, you know. It was company. Another living, breathing presence in the room.’

  ‘You could always move in with Tricia if you miss it that badly,’ said Charlie, winking at Christopher.

  ‘You don’t move in with somebody when you get to my age,’ said Jock. ‘Not without them asking you to, anyway. Tricia isn’t that sort of woman.’

  ‘Do you think Amaryllis needs back-up?’ said Charlie.

  Christopher considered that possibility. It would be rare for Amaryllis to admit she needed help. On the other hand, it was rather unusual – if not unprecedented – for her to warn him when she was going to do something like this. He had often had to pick up the pieces afterwards, though. Maybe her phone call had been a kind of subconscious request for help. He wished he was better at understanding these subtleties.

  ‘It’ll take me a while to get up there,’ he said. ‘If it’s at the back of the town, that is.’

  ‘It’s up past that hotel,’ said Jock. ‘You know the one. If they haven’t knocked it down yet.’

  ‘That’s a funny place for an alpaca farm,’ said Christopher.

  ‘Anywhere’s a funny place for that,’ said Jock. ‘It’s a pity Jemima didn’t leave us Dave’s car keys – we could have driven up to have a look.’

  ‘Can you drive, then?’ Christopher asked him.

  ‘No. I thought you could.’

  ‘No.’

  They stared at each other blankly.

  Charlie burst out laughing. ‘You’re a fine pair. Never mind the twenty-first century, you haven’t got on board with the twentieth yet... I’ll take you up there and we’ll see what she’s up to.’

  ‘But you can’t leave the bar,’ said Christopher.

  ‘I’ll get Jan to fill in,’ said Charlie. He beckoned to Jan, the wool-shop owner, who was sitting at a table on her own, staring into space. There was something about the way he summoned her that made Christopher think... but again, he was no use at understanding these things. Was there something in the air in Pitkirtly at the moment? Jock and Tricia, Charlie and Jan... Keith and his girl-friend... What was her name?

  But then, Keith and Ashley – that was it – were still young and optimistic enough to go in for that sort of thing. Jock McLean, on the other hand, should have been old enough to know better. Christopher knew he would never understand relationships if he lived to be three hundred.

  Charlie had a very big car, even bigger than Dave’s. Christopher felt as if he and Jock were rattling around in the space as they trundled up the High Street and then further up still, past the hotel. Christopher was still puzzling over Jock’s comment about it being knocked down. He had just opened his mouth to ask what it had meant when they all caught sight of Dave’s car, parked on the verge.

  ‘What’s that doing there?’ said Jock, finding his voice first.

  Charlie slowed and stopped just in front of the other car. They got out of the Range Rover and approached it with something resembling caution, almost as if they imagined it might be booby-trapped.

  ‘Is this t
he alpaca place?’ said Charlie in an unnaturally low voice.

  ‘Aye, that’s it all right,’ said Jock, gesturing across the road where they could now see a partially concealed entrance.

  ‘There’s something funny going on,’ said Charlie.

  He walked all round Dave’s car, peering inside it. There was nobody in there.

  ‘It looks all right,’ said Christopher.

  He glanced on up the road and saw a big sign with flowers on it. ‘Flowers and Showers Garden Centre,’ he read aloud. ‘Wasn’t Dave at the garden centre when he was taken ill?’

  ‘Well, that’s a coincidence,’ said Jock. He frowned as he stared at the sign. ‘That’s a stupid name.’

  ‘It matches the picture,’ said Charlie, walking on a little way and getting a closer look at the sign. He turned to face them. ‘Maybe Dave parked here for the garden centre.’

  ‘It’ll have its own car park, though,’ Jock objected.

  Christopher couldn’t stand it any longer. ‘What’s the point in standing here discussing garden centre car parks when Amaryllis could be in danger?’ he asked, his voice echoing on the quiet road. It was too quiet. It reminded him of what he didn’t like about leaving the town, even though they were still technically in Pitkirtly as far as he knew. Instead of the safe environment of buildings where people carried on their normal lives at a sensible distance from nature and the elements, you found yourself surrounded by tall trees that were probably going to outlive you by some years, and undergrowth that might house all kinds of random wildlife.

  After a warm sunny day, the sea mist was starting to come in too. Already it swirled round the tops of the trees up here. Soon it would move down to the lower-lying parts of the town. He shivered.