7 A Tasteful Crime (9 page)

As he wandered away from Jemima’s house, kicking the kerb as he went like a mutinous teenager, h
e mulled over what role he would like to play in Tricia’s life. Of course, he realised that as a mere man it wasn’t up to him to decide that. But it would be nice to mean something to her – or would it?

For heaven’s sake, he had definitely been spending too much time with Christopher! He couldn’t remember ever being so woolly and indecisive in his life.

He turned his steps firmly in the direction of Tricia’s house. He should have gone there in the first place, if only to show moral support. After all, he wasn’t exactly on Jemima’s side, no matter how long he had known her. And Tricia’s practice cake had been just as good. The one thing he was determined about was that he wouldn’t go near Penelope’s attempts to bake ever again, even if her creations turned out to contain some magic ingredient that would result in anybody who ate them developing super-powers and living forever.

He laughed to himself as he walked along, unaware that two teenagers had
just crossed the road to avoid him, and that a dog being taken for its morning walk had dug its heels in and refused to pass him.

As he approached Tricia’s house, he thought he heard a voice in the hedge. Maybe laughing to
himself had just been the start of it. Hearing voices seemed like a big and rather sudden step towards senility, though.

The hedge parted slightly and Darren Laidlaw’s face appeared, surrounded by leaves which did nothing to make his square freckled face any more attractive. But Jock knew the boy well. He
worked hard at Rosie’s cattery, loved animals and was fiercely protective of his mother. He had come a long way since setting fire to the village hall.

‘Hey, Mr McLean,’ hissed Darren.
‘Are you going to see my mum?’

‘That’s the idea,’ said Jock. ‘What are you doing in there?’

‘Sssh, keep your voice down! They’ll hear you and come out.’

‘Who’s that, then?’

‘Those TV people. They’re waiting to film her. They won’t let anybody else in the house except that stupid Eric man. They’re waiting for him just now.’

‘Can’t we get in after they’ve finished?’

‘They said not even then... I want to see my mum – I know she’s nervous.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Jock.
‘Anybody would be.’

‘
If we can get them to come outside for a minute we can sneak in the back door. Maybe you could raise a fire alarm or something, Mr McLean. Just to get them out of the way.’

Jock stared at Darren
’s earnest face. He shook his head. ‘You’re an evil influence, Darren Laidlaw.’

In the end they compromised. Jock would
ring the front door-bell and play the part of an irate neighbour whose car was blocked in, while Darren sneaked round and opened the back door. Jock would run round to the back once he had finished play-acting on the doorstep, and they would both get into the kitchen while the television crew were moving their car. It was so scrappy a plan that Jock didn’t think it had a hope of working, but at least he felt as if he was doing something to help. If indeed it would help Tricia to have her son in the kitchen for a few minutes. That was a matter of opinion.

‘Right, then,’ said Darren once they had worked this out. ‘Cleared for lift-off, Mr McLean?’

‘I wouldn’t put it like that,’ said Jock, who had been thinking along the lines of ‘Thunderbirds are Go’, except that he knew that phrase was hopelessly old-fashioned. ‘Well, get round to the back garden then. We’ll only have a few seconds to do this.’

He walked up the path and rang the door-bell.

One of the television crew opened the door. Fortunately it was Charlotte, who had seemed slightly less threatening than the rest. On the other hand, having faced up to plenty of school bullies in his time, both among the pupils and on the staff, Jock couldn’t really bring himself to feel threatened by anybody in what he thought of as civilian life.

‘What’s that thing doing parked across my driveway?’ he demanded, trying to model himself on Christopher’s annoying neighbour, Mr
Browning, who was always complaining about something. ‘It’s nearly time for church and I can’t get my car out! It’s very inconsiderate. Mrs Laidlaw’s usually so careful about these things.’

He harangued Charlotte until she called to Ken to come out. He harangued them
both until they were just out of Tricia’s gate and then scurried up the drive of the house next-door, squeezed through a convenient gap in the fence and reached the Laidlaws’ back garden. He hoped they wouldn’t think it odd that he hadn’t waited to make sure they did what he had asked.

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 the
y 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.