The Viv Fraser Mysteries Box Set 1

by V Clifford

  ‘Hi, Mum, it’s Viv.’

  ‘I know who it is. D’you think I’ve lost my marbles?’

  Viv would like to say yes but holds back. ‘Just wondering how you’re doing.’

  ‘Aye, but not wondering enough to come round for your tea.’

  Here we go again.

  ‘I could come now if you like.’

  ‘No. Don’t bother. You’ll be busy and I’m about to watch a film.’

  Her mother is the most devoted fan of movies of any kind. In fact anything that takes her out of her own shrunken world. In the background Viv can hear the familiar drum roll of a Twentieth Century Fox opening title, so isn’t surprised when her mum says. ‘I’ll let you get back to your work, hen, and I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow if you like.’

  ‘Okay, Mum. I’ll see you then.’

  Before the phone has hit the cradle she remembers she’s having lunch with Marconi. She presses ’Redial’, not sure if she’s more nervous of changing the time with her mum or seeing Marconi. Hearing her mobile vibrating, she bangs the receiver down and searches around for its counterpart in her rucksack. It’s Pete.

  ‘Hi, Pete, just wondered how you’re doing. Thought you might like a drink.’

  ‘What? With you?’

  She’s taken aback by the vehemence of his tone.

  ‘Yes, me. Why is that so strange? It’s not as if I haven’t bought you a drink before.’

  ‘Yeah, but that was before I heard they had someone for it.’

  ‘“It” being Andrew’s death, I assume?’

  ‘Yeah. If they have someone you don’t need my help in finding his killer.’ His voice has a hard edge that she’s never heard before. In fact, if she didn’t know better she’d think she was speaking to someone else, someone possessed.

  ‘Okay. I see what you mean. Thanks for ringing back.’

  She hangs up before he does, and says out loud. ‘Confront your demons, Pete, before they consume you completely.’ Wondering if he’ll be in Copa Cabana she decides to have one last try. If this fails she’ll at least be able to gather some details of the menus and the clientele for Jules’ feature.

  The car starts first time and she goes the long way to Picardy Place. It hardly seems possible that it’s only a week since all this drama began. Now a young boy is dead, and a number of people have been exposed as being other than who they seemed to be. She wonders about Max and what Sonia and her father might have done since he was questioned. Marconi must’ve been kicking himself after he had cow-towed to Max in his office, only to have to pull him in to Fettes a few days later.

  Viv has sweltered on the journey, and now understands why people with decent cars don’t wear heavy coats. She’ll soon get out of the habit, but for now, she pulls her collar up and wanders round the corner to Copa Cabana. Early evening drinkers, still in their suits, perch on the stools, chatting and laughing now that they’re released from the shackles of their day. At the bar she orders a half of her usual organic cider, and takes it to one of the booths at the back where there’s a view of the door and the front of house. Slinging her coat over the back, she settles in to read a Scotsman that’s been left lying. An article on whether people who commit knife crimes should be banned from drinking alcohol catches her attention. She’s so engrossed that she barely looks up when someone slips in opposite her. When he speaks, however, he has her full attention.

  ‘I can’t imagine what brings you here again, Viv.’

  His menacing tone doesn’t tally with the young, distraught boy that she’d sat watching when he rubbed the tears from his face.

  She looks at him unflinching. ‘Can’t you?’ This catches him. ‘I had a chat with a chum of mine who happens to be one of your teachers. He mentioned that you were pals with Andrew.’

  ‘Yeah, so nothing you didn’t already know.’

  ‘He said that you were really close.’ She tilts her head. ‘You know, in the biblical sense.’

  He looks at her as if his head will burst with hatred. She shudders as she remembers how tempted she’d been to hug him. He notices. ‘Disappointed, are you?’ He stretches out his words in a singsong manner. Christ, another one who thinks he’s the lead on an American soap.

  ‘No, disappointment only happens when you don’t know how to manage your expectations. I’m quite impressed. You must be in the school drama society?’

  ‘Witty. But you won’t be for long.’

  ‘That wasn’t a threat, was it, Pete?’ Her anger rising at his audacity, she rubs her hands through her hair, looking around at the punters then letting out a sigh.

  ‘So what happened? What did you do?’

  His expression doesn’t look quite so cocky now. She hasn’t lowered her voice and he looks round in case she’s been overheard.

  ‘You think I killed him?’ His tone has gained an edge.

  ‘Yep. I do.’

  Shaking his head and smiling he says, ‘You’re off your head, missus.’

  If he hadn’t said missus she wouldn’t have minded so much. ‘If I’m off my head then your level of insanity isn’t even on the scale.’

  Now he sits forward aggressively, almost touching her with his head. ‘I’ll show you threat . . .’

  This makes her want to laugh. He’s also been watching too much Taggart.

  ‘You’ll eventually come round.’ She says this with a lightness that she doesn’t feel. Then whispers, ‘Confess, Pete. Confess before you really blow it.’

  ‘You think I want this life?’ He gestures round the room.

  She stands, lifting her coat and shrugging herself into it. Looking down on him she says, ‘There’s still time.’

  As she turns to leave, he grabs her coat, ‘You think you know something and you know nothing!’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  Nodding to an unfamiliar barman, she heads for the door. Viv’s life at the moment seems to be one big ‘what now?’

  She smiles as she approaches her new baby. But in an instant, before she has time to register the steps approaching, she’s thrown against the bonnet of the car, and seeing some kind of bat swinging towards her head she ducks, drops to the ground and manages to roll under the car. He kicks and kicks, frenzied, trying to reach her. Her phone is in her bag now lying a few feet away, and she can’t reach it. The chances of him moving seem remote. He stops kicking, and leans panting against the car. Her new car! The cheek of him. He says, ‘I’ll wait as long as it takes.’

  She lies there with the adrenaline pumping; grateful that the ground is dry, but at the same time thinking how ironic it is she should see the underside of the car in these circumstances. ‘I’m not in any rush, Pete.’

  What else could he try? She gets a flashback of the guy who dropped the lighted taper into her petrol tank and feels bile rising in her throat. This is different. This wasn’t premeditated. Pete didn’t plan to hurt her tonight, or did he? His mobile rings and she hears him saying, in something close to a whine, ‘You said . . . But I thought you said . . . Okay.’

  ‘Your mummy giving you grief, Pete?’

  He kneels on the ground and tries to swing the bat at her from his side. She succeeds in rolling out of reach just in time. He runs to the other side of the car and tries again. This farce could go on all night. From up on Calton Terrace she can hear voices getting louder. Then relief floods through her as she spots two pairs of legs, one pair limping. The legs slow down as they approach the car. Then a familiar woman’s voice says, ‘Everything all right?’

  At this Viv rolls out from beneath the car, and Pete takes off like a bullet up the hill. Viv looks at Red and her companion and shouts, ‘Quick, Red, radio in, he needs to be stopped!’

  Red’s colleague bolts after Pete, as Red stands with her hands on her hips, looking just like a proper cop, with her long auburn locks tied neatly into a ponytail.

  ‘Never a dull moment eh, Doc? How come you were trapped under this car with Master Peter Brendan hanging over you?’

&nbs
p; Viv reaches down to retrieve her bag. ‘Long story. But my God! Your timing just gets better and better – I owe you twice now. How’s the leg?’

  ‘On the mend, thanks. What happened?’

  ‘Let’s get in the car and at least keep warm.’

  ‘I’m all for cosying up, Doc.’

  She smiles at Viv. But they stay on the pavement in the cold waiting to see if the other officer gets a result.

  Viv smiles back. ‘You’re a trier. I’ll give you that.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Red’s colleague returns with the bat, but without Pete Brendan.

  ‘I’ll call it in. You up for another trip to HQ, Viv?’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  ‘Yup. You can come with me now, or pitch up in the morning.’

  Viv had planned a long lie, so she agrees to go now. ‘Let’s get it over with.’

  She rakes around for her keys and presses the fob. The car blinks and she opens the door. ‘Miracle!’ Shaking her head she repeats, ‘Miracle. It’s a bloody miracle.’

  ‘What exactly are you on about? Or is this a moment I should treasure?’ Red’s smile lights up her dimpled face. Viv hasn’t noticed this before.

  ‘It’s new,’ Viv says, grinning at the car.

  Red looks with a mixture of astonishment and glee.

  ‘It’s the first time I’ve had a car that works, let alone one that unlocks its own doors.’

  Red nods and says, ‘Aye, anything you say, dear.’

  Viv gives Red a friendly shove, ‘Jump in.’

  Red is about to protest but Viv 's enthusiasm for her new toy is infectious, and she throws her car keys to her colleague who trots off up the hill.

  ‘You’re my first passenger. Sit back and enjoy the ride.’ Red makes all the right noises and Viv acknowledges them with appreciation.

  Once they are inside Fettes the business is more serious. Red is the senior officer. She’s obviously learned some of her technique from Marconi. There’s no bluster and she teases out information skilfully. She already knows some of what Viv has to say, about the lies that Pete has told them both, but is interested when Viv tells her what Colin revealed about Pete and Andrew’s relationship. Pete had led the investigation to believe that he was the one with the hots for Andrew, and was devastated by his being missing and then dead. One lie is all it takes, though.

  ‘We’ve had our suspicions about Pete. The night Andrew was killed Pete was meant to be staying over with a friend. Only he forgot to tell the family that he claimed he’d been with to cover for him. Small lies become big deals. We’re also going back out to the petrol station beyond Dalkeith. I got to thinking that Pete and Andrew look quite similar and it could be that the woman who saw Andrew actually saw Pete. Let’s say Pete and Andrew went for a drive. Pete could have hitched back. It’s a shot in the dark. Many young men could have been mistaken for Andrew. Speculation at the moment, Viv, but the fact that he attacked you just now isn’t making him look any more innocent.’

  ‘I know. It’s pretty extreme, though, to kill someone, set fire to a car with someone in it. I mean what’s been going on in his head?’

  ‘We’ll need to bring him in as soon as, and then we’ll find out.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gone home. I’m sure when I was under the car his mother phoned him. It sounded as if he was being reminded of his curfew.’

  Red gives a nod to the other officer who leaves the room, then continues with her questions.

  ‘What else did this teacher say? You said he never taught either of them, and yet he noticed their relationship in detail.’

  ‘Red, have you ever been to St Jude’s? They’re as stuffy as they can get away with and it sounds as if Andrew and Pete knew exactly what the boundaries were. But listen, being a liar doesn’t mean he’s a killer, it just means he has something to hide.’

  ‘Speculation again. No point in any of this until we have him here . . . But what about you, Viv. How are you doing? It’s been some week. Or is every week like this for you?’

  Viv snorts. ‘No, only some. But look, before I start to draw a salary here can I go home?’

  Red reads over her notes and says, ‘I think between us we’ve got enough to raise some serious questions. I’ll keep you posted.’

  When Viv leaves the building it’s surprisingly quiet. Tuesday night. Maybe there’s a match on. She visualises a local pub full to bursting with cops watching the game. It reminds her that they’re all human. She grins at having thought otherwise.

  At home, she checks her messages. ‘Hi, Viv, hope we’re still all right for tomorrow. I’ve taken the liberty of booking lunch at the Outsider. Twelve-thirty. If I don’t hear to the contrary I’ll see you then.’

  With her insides churning, she changes into fleecy PJs, fills a hot water bottle and flicks through the channels, looking for something escapist. Nothing. But then the drum roll of a film reminds her that she didn’t manage to speak to her mum again. She checks the time. Too late to ring her now. She picks up her book. There’s nothing like a good book to aid the task of letting go of the day.

  She wakes during the night with moonlight flooding her bedroom. It strikes her that crime is tricky with such a moon; fewer places to hide, distorted shadows – even as she hoists herself up to look at the clock her own shadow looks like a monster against the wall. What a great night for the imagination. Snuggling back under the duvet, sad at the kind of twists that a life can take, she wonders if they’ve found Pete. We’re all the architects of our own lives. We each make choices that change who we are, and what we become. Why would Pete kill someone he cared for? Jealousy? It’s always a contender. She starts counting sheep.

  On the second bright day in a row Viv springs out of bed and strips it, stuffs the sheets into the basket and fetches clean linen from the cupboard in the hall. It’s half nine and she has much to do before lunch. Smoothing out the clean duvet cover gives her a sense of satisfaction too great for the task. But as she does it she recalls a fragment of a dream from last night: a ruddy-faced man with frizzy red hair was questioning her, trying to catch her out, but he couldn’t. He smiled and said, ‘Perhaps I’ve met my intellectual equal.’ Weird.

  She takes out the kit she bought in Peebles and holds this piece up to that piece, trying to decide what to wear. She doesn’t really need to decide yet, because there’s skin to be exfoliated and legs to be shaved before she dresses. Then she remembers that she still has to ring her mum. As she dials the number she prepares for a tirade and t+

  2he usual hang up but her mum’s answering machine kicks in and Viv punches the air. She leaves a message saying she has to work. It’s the only thing that will pacify her mother, albeit in small measure.

  She doesn’t feel like breakfast but knows if she doesn’t eat something she’ll feel sick at lunchtime, so she sticks a slice of bread in the toaster, and puts the kettle on. As she waits the phone rings. It’s Red with an update on Pete. ‘You were right – he had gone home. He won’t talk but his mother is in a complete panic, making up all sorts of crap. His father is apparently on business in the Middle East. We caught a pair of Pete’s trainers just about to go through a boil wash, but a gallus PC spotted them in the machine and managed to get them out before the water came in.’

  Viv imagines, if she were a mother, she might go to similar lengths to save the skin of her child.

  ‘Get this, there was goat shit on the soles of the trainers which matches some found in the lay-by in Earlston. Only one organic goat herd north of the Border. The mother is saying that they’re her shoes, only there’s a discrepancy of five sizes.’

  Sounds like a huge pair of trainers, and visions of possible owners race through Viv’s mind. ‘But Red, the goat shit only proves that the shoes were in the lay-by. It doesn’t have him torching the car.’

  Red sounds slightly irritated. ‘I know that, but at least we’re now sure he was there and he’ll have to talk sooner or later.’
>
  Frustrated, Viv says, ‘No, that’s my point, you only have the person who was wearing the trainers at the scene. You don’t know for certain they belong to Pete or that he was the one wearing them, do you?’

  ‘Well no, but I’m guessing they’re his or otherwise his mother wouldn’t be in such a state . . . Relax, we won’t take anything for granted.’

  ‘Have you spoken to his mates Thomas and Johnny recently?’

  ‘No, but we’ve been keeping an eye on them. Don’t worry, Viv, we’re not as incompetent as you think.’

  ‘I do not think that. You should get your money back on that crystal ball. It’s not working.’

  ‘Ha bloody ha. Speak to you later.’

  When Viv hangs up her earlier high spirits have evaporated. She switches on the news. Nothing. Maybe he’s a minor after all. She can’t imagine them not having something about this development, but if he’s under eighteen they won’t risk jeopardising the case by reporting it. Too many cases get thrown out on a ‘technicality’, which is often code for media blabbing. Viv sits staring at the mute TV screen. What the hell has Pete done, and did he do it alone? Who else could be involved? Talking about technical, it’s time to check up on Johnny and Thomas again. She boots up her laptop and types Pete Brendan into Facebook. There’s been activity from him in the last twelve hours, although nothing of consequence. She scrolls through his Wall and discovers no activity on the night of Andrew’s death. Could be coincidence; he does have long spells with no postings.

  She finds Thomas and Johnny on his list of friends. Viv is astounded at what she finds on people’s Walls. Talk about lots of words but no information. Thomas is obviously addicted because there’s barely half an hour goes by when he doesn’t leave a posting. She scrolls back to look at what he was writing on the night that Andrew was found. Nothing. ‘No way. He couldn’t stand to be away from his iPhone, not for a whole night. So what were you up to, Thomas my boy?’