7 A Tasteful Crime Page 7

  Darren was holding the back door open for him. Tricia and Maisie Sue were in the kitchen. Jock was slightly surprised at Tricia’s choice of assistant, but maybe she wanted an American perspective on baking. Or maybe Maisie Sue had some special affinity with vegetables.

  ‘Hello,’ said Tricia, looking harassed and wearing far too much make-up. She had a variety of apparently random ingredients on the table in front of her. Jock recognised some of them as similar to the things he had glimpsed at Jemima’s.

  ‘You’ve got a lot of make-up on, Mum,’ said Darren.

  ‘It’s the TV people. Charlotte said I was too shiny. And red. So she tried to tone it down with some green stuff. Now I feel like a courgette myself.’

  ‘You’ll be OK, Tricia,’ said Maisie Sue, bustling around taking things out of cupboards and putting other things away, just as if she knew what she was doing. ‘You look great. Just take a few deep breaths, and repeat after me: I look great. I can do anything I want. It takes more than a couple jumped up teenagers to scare me.’

  Tricia very sensibly ignored this advice. ‘You’re not meant to be here,’ she said to Darren and Jock. ‘I’ll get disqualified. You’ve got to go. They’re going to start filming me as soon as Eric gets here.’

  They heard the front door bang, and Ken’s and Charlotte’s voices in the hall.

  ‘We’ll go then,’ said Darren. He gave his mother a quick pat on the arm, and he and Jock headed for the back door, which led out directly from the kitchen. But as they were almost there, they heard footsteps just outside, and Eric’s voice calling,

  ‘Don’t mind me, Cinders, it’s just Buttons coming by to help in the kitchen.’

  The back door began to open again. Why had the man come round that way? Darren and Jock shuffled backwards, away from the door. The voices in the hall got closer and louder.

  ‘Quick, you’ll have to hide under the table,’ whispered Tricia. ‘Come on.’

  She moved out of the way to make room for them to crawl under the kitchen table. There was a flap that came down at the far side to hide them from anybody else’s view.

  ‘Does this remind you of anything?’ murmured Darren, and started to laugh.

  It was the cattery all over again. At least there weren’t any litter trays, Jock thought gloomily, but he would be crippled for life after sitting hunched up in here.

  ‘Sssh!’ said Tricia, just as the door to the hallway opened and the sound of feet announced the return of Charlotte and Ken.

  ‘Sorry?’ said Charlotte to Tricia.

  ‘Oh, nothing, I was just telling Maisie Sue to be quiet so that we could concentrate on preparing ourselves for the filming to start.’

  ‘I talk all the time,’ said Maisie Sue in a tone that was proud rather than apologetic. ‘I guess it’s just the way I am. I’ve been trying to quieten down now I’m working towards becoming British. It seems like that’s the way folks go on here. I just want to fit in.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ken. ‘Well, we’d better get going. We’re live on air in two minutes. I’ll just need to make contact with Deirdre first.’

  ‘Is Eric there?’ said Charlotte.

  Jock heard the door opening. ‘I’m here!’ said Eric. ‘Give me a minute to put on some more lip balm. I don’t know if it’s the air around here or what. I can’t make an entrance looking like this.’

  ‘All right, but be as quick as you can…Can you two get in position exactly as we rehearsed it?’ said Charlotte. ‘After that, don’t say a word until Eric comes in. You can peel something if you want. Whatever’s in your recipe. Eric will take you through the questions. It’s all going to go smoothly.’

  ‘Oh, God, I hate when you say that,’ said Ken. ‘It’s just asking for trouble.’

  There were some clicks and a whirring sound, then some chopping. By twisting his neck round at an unnatural angle and using his peripheral vision to its fullest extent, Jock could see Tricia’s feet in their sensible but oddly attractive flat-heeled shoes with the leopard print.

  ‘And – recording!’ said Ken.

  The back door opened and Eric’s voice swirled round their ears. ‘Hello, Tricia! Yes, it’s me, Buttons. You shall go to the ball... If you can turn that pumpkin into a fairy coach in time.’ He laughed. ‘How about a wee taste of condensed milk?’

  ‘I’m going to need it all for my recipe, I’m afraid,’ said Tricia’s voice, very quiet and careful. ‘Would you like a piece of apple?’

  ‘Are you sure it’s not poisoned?’ said Eric, his voice coming closer to the eavesdroppers under the table. ‘Oh, no, of course not – wrong pantomime.’

  There was a crunching sound, a choking noise and then a crash, followed by some smaller thuds, as if someone’s feet were drumming on the floor.

  Tricia yelped.

  ‘Eric!’ squealed Charlotte.

  Peering out, Jock could see that Tricia had jumped to the side, and a man’s feet had come to rest just where she had been standing.

  Chapter 11 All hell breaks loose

  ‘And now back to the studio for more commentary on the Five-a-Day procession that’s taking place at this very moment at the other end of town,’ said Ken in the background, his voice only slightly more stressed than usual.

  ‘Turn him over – lift him up - thump him on the back,’ said Charlotte urgently. ‘The apple must be caught in his throat.’

  There was a flurry of movement. Jock wondered if they should get out from under the table, but he didn’t want to give Charlotte a heart attack when she was already in a bit of a state.

  ‘Call an ambulance!’ she suddenly shrieked.

  ‘Oh, my Lord,’ moaned Maisie Sue.

  ‘I think he’s dead!’ squeaked Tricia. ‘Will we call the police too?’

  Ken’s voice, speaking to somebody else. ‘Yes. An ambulance, please. Pitkirtly. It seems to be a case of choking. Or poisoning.’ He gave the address, presumably in response to a question.

  ‘Or it could be a seizure,’ said Maisie Sue helpfully.

  Ken ignored her. ‘... I don’t care about roadworks on the bloody M90. Just get somebody over here... I don’t know! I don’t live here, thank God! I don’t have three heads and four hands either.... Does anybody know where the nearest doctor’s surgery is?’

  ‘There’s the High Causeway practice,’ said Tricia, a doubtful note creeping into her voice. ‘But I don’t think they’re open on a Sunday.’

  ‘Of course they aren’t, you silly cow!’ snapped Ken, who was evidently losing his grip. ‘I just want their phone number.’

  Darren was out from under the table and over to the other side of the kitchen in four seconds – or so it seemed. As Jock also crawled out, more slowly, and straightened up with some difficulty, he saw the boy reaching for Ken’s throat.

  ‘Darren, no!’ shouted Tricia.

  ‘Don’t you call my mum a cow, you stupid git!’ screamed Darren, inches from Ken’s face. ‘Have you never heard of NHS 24? They can put you in touch with a doctor. That’s what happened when Rosie fell in the yard last winter and broke her arm.’

  At least while he was screaming he wasn’t actually strangling Ken. Maisie Sue made a recovery of sorts and dashed over to Darren, pulling at his shoulders to try and make him move away from Ken. In the end she pulled too hard and they both fell backwards on the floor.

  It was starting to look like a battlefield. Having Maisie Sue bump her head and start to bleed everywhere didn’t help at all. Jock was having trouble coming to terms with what had happened here. But Tricia was just standing there staring with a terrified look on her face. Jock forgot his own feelings of disconnection and patted her on the arm as Darren had done only minutes before. Charlotte was now leaning over Eric, apparently trying to revive him.

  ‘Have you got something I can put over his mouth while I give him mouth-to mouth?’ she said. ‘I don’t want to touch it directly if he’s been poisoned. A dish-cloth might do.’

  ‘Is there any point?’ asked Tricia. Eric
lay very still almost at her feet. ‘Look at his face.’

  Charlotte re-positioned herself slightly and Jock saw Eric’s face for the first time, contorted in a mask of agony. He wasn’t showing any signs of life.

  ‘If there’s any chance...’ Charlotte wasn’t going to give up easily.

  ‘Try the police,’ said Jock. ‘They’ll have some idea what to do.’

  ‘We’ll need them anyway,’ said Ken. ‘Somebody should tell Deirdre how bad it is, too.’ He walked off into the hall, talking into his phone. The others were silent, waiting.

  ‘Maria’s already on her way,’ said Ken, coming back in. ‘And the ambulance and police. We’re all to stay where we are.’

  ‘I hope you can explain what you were doing under the table,’ said Charlotte accusingly to Jock. She looked over at Darren, who had finally got up from the floor and was standing near the sink, where Maisie Sue was trying to clean her head wound with kitchen roll. ‘You shouldn’t have been in here at all.’

  ‘I just wanted to see my mum,’ said Darren. ‘It’s my day off from the cattery. Rosie was coming into town so she dropped me off.’

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘You two could be in big trouble. Skulking at a murder scene...’

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ said Jock. ‘We don’t know that it’s a murder scene. Maybe he did choke on the apple...’

  ‘No, don’t say that,’ said Tricia in a small voice.

  ‘Or maybe it was natural causes,’ said Jock brightly. ‘That’d be all right, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Charlotte. ‘This could ruin us altogether. If there’s even the slightest chance of poisoning, nobody will ever want to appear on Open Kitchen again. This is the kiss of death.’

  Her voice lowered almost to a growl.

  ‘Just when my career seemed to be taking off, too.’

  Chapter 12 Panic stations

  Christopher was hanging about in the foyer of the Cultural Centre. He felt as if he had spent his whole life to date just hanging about. He was used to being on the fringes and not in the centre of the action, but never before had he been conscious of being quite such a waste of space.

  He hadn’t even had the chance to see any of the studio part of the television coverage, because they had locked him out of his own office. He knew Oscar and Deirdre were in there, and he thought Maria was operating the cameras and sound equipment, along with two men who had appeared that day for the first time, and who were so taciturn that he hadn’t even heard their names. Certainly it wasn’t the sort of situation where formal introductions were in order, but he was slightly offended that nobody had even seen fit to...

  Standing in the corner by the coat-hooks, Christopher was so deep in offended thought that he didn’t notice at first that the door to the office had opened abruptly and somebody had come out.

  ‘Can you get us to Tricia Laidlaw’s house? Do you know where it is?’ yelled Oscar across to him. He had a big voice for a small man, when he needed it, Christopher reflected.

  But there was no time for reflection. Deirdre, wild-eyed and twitchy, followed Oscar. Maria followed Deirdre, almost jostling her in the rush to get out. What was wrong? Had the office gone on fire because of all the extra electrical equipment in there? Was there a mouse? A plague of giant spiders? A nuclear strike?

  Christopher’s mind ran quickly through various possibilities ranging from natural disaster in the office to some catastrophe outside that they had all witnessed on the feed from the 5-a-Day procession, and couldn’t decide which of them made sense.

  In the end he resorted to asking them. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Tell you on the way,’ said Maria. ‘We’ll take one of the cars.’

  ‘We’ll need a camera,’ said Oscar.

  ‘Ken and Charlotte are there, remember?’ said Maria. ‘With all their equipment.’

  ‘Just get on with it!’ cried Deirdre.

  The four of them ran out to the car park, Christopher in two minds about whether he should lock up behind them. But were the two taciturn men safe to be left in the building without supervision? He didn’t want to get into trouble if they went on some sort of wild media-workers’ binge and wrecked Maisie Sue’s quilt samples or made a bonfire of library books.

  He dithered at the door for a moment.

  ‘Don’t bother about that!’ called Oscar. ‘This is life and death!’

  ‘Life and death?’ enquired Christopher.

  ‘Eric,’ said Deirdre, on a sob.

  He followed the three of them out of the building in silence.

  Christopher wasn’t very good at navigating in cars, being more accustomed to navigating Pitkirtly on foot, but he only took them down one dead-end, and they were at Tricia’s gate and climbing out of the car within ten minutes of leaving the Cultural Centre. They still hadn’t told him anything.

  ‘There should be an ambulance,’ said Oscar as they rushed up the path.

  ‘It’ll be stuck in the road-works on the motorway,’ said Christopher. They ignored him.

  The front door wasn’t locked. Ken met them in the hallway.

  ‘You did call an ambulance, didn’t you?’ said Maria accusingly.

  ‘I’m not stupid, Maria. Of course I did. I even called NHS 24 and somebody told us there was nothing we could do so we’d better call an ambulance.’

  ‘Where is he?’ said Deirdre. ‘Where’s Eric?’

  ‘In the kitchen,’ said Ken. He didn’t move or indicate where the kitchen might be. The three other television people stared round blankly at all the closed doors.

  Christopher pushed past them and opened the kitchen door. At least that was one thing he could do to help.

  There were too many people in the kitchen.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he had time to say sternly to Jock McLean before Deirdre came hurtling into the room. Christopher stepped aside, leaving a clear path for her and the others.

  ‘Where’s Eric? Let me see him!’

  Tricia shuffled along behind the table to make more room, bringing her almost into contact with Jock McLean, who stood there looking obscurely guilty – or was it just his natural expression? Charlotte rose from the floor at the far side of the room and took a step back; Maisie Sue and Darren, who for some reason were busy at the sink, turned round to watch. Christopher noticed blood trickling down the side of Maisie Sue’s face. His mind boggled briefly before re-focussing.

  Deirdre flung herself forward and then came to an abrupt halt, causing Oscar and Maria to cannon into her.’

  ‘Watch what you’re doing,’ she said to them irritably. She crouched down at the far side of the table before falling to her knees. Oscar and Maria crept forward a little. Christopher noticed Maria stooping for a moment as if to pick something up from the floor, but he couldn’t see what it was. He craned his neck to get a better look at what was happening there, but then he heard his name being whispered.

  ‘Christopher,’ breathed Maisie Sue. ‘It’s Eric. He’s passed.’

  ‘Passed what?’ said Christopher, startled.

  ‘Sssh!’ said Maria without even looking round at him. She slid her hand into a pocket. Christopher wondered briefly whether she was removing evidence from the crime scene, and if so, should he tell somebody about it. But when he looked at Darren’s white, anxious face he forgot all about it.

  ‘He’s dead,’ said Darren in a low voice. ‘He just collapsed there and then he was dead.’

  Christopher looked at Maisie Sue. ‘What happened to you?’ he asked, also in a low voice this time.

  ‘Don’t ask,’ said Darren with a sigh.

  ‘Stop all that muttering!’ hissed Maria. ‘Deirdre’s in shock here.’

  She moved forward and put her arm round Deirdre’s shoulders.

  There were voices in the hall – Ken and at least one other person – and a policeman burst into the room.

  Poor old Keith Burnet, in at the deep end again, was Christopher’s first thought.

&n
bsp; ‘Could everybody please stay exactly where they are?’ said Keith in a firm but quiet voice.

  Maria glanced round at him. ‘Hmph – they might at least have sent someone more senior.’

  Christopher decided then and there that Maria was possibly the most unpleasant person he had ever met. And that included the man who had come into the library the week before and harangued the librarians about why he couldn’t borrow ebooks because he didn’t have the right kind of device to read them on.

  ‘Stand aside, please, miss,’ said Keith, striding onwards. He stood respectfully behind Deirdre’s crouching figure for a moment and then lifted her gently by the shoulders. He pushed her towards Oscar, who put his arms round her with apparent reluctance, possibly because Maria was scowling at him.

  Keith leaned down to look at Eric – or at least Christopher assumed Eric was lying on the floor beside the table. He hadn’t particularly wanted to view the body, but it would be nice to know what was going on. But he supposed he would find out in due course. He leaned against the wall and tried to look invisible.

  Keith straightened up. ‘Is there a doctor on the way?’

  ‘Ambulance,’ growled Ken, just outside the kitchen door. ‘In a traffic jam on the motorway.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Keith. He took out his notebook and pencil. ‘Could we all please move into another room? I’ll need to take all your names and addresses for a start.’

  Christopher heard him on his radio as they all began to move.

  ‘Backup! I need urgent backup!... I don’t care if it’s lunchtime, sarge. I need backup at Mrs Laidlaw’s house right now... Can’t you leave it and put it back in the microwave later?’

  Christopher followed Darren and Maisie Sue through to the front room. Jock McLean and Tricia joined them, but there wasn’t time for any sensible conversation before the others came in. Tricia only had time to ask Maisie Sue if she was all right, and Maisie Sue didn’t have time to reply.