4 Death at the Happiness Club

by Cecilia Peartree

  'Hmm,' said Christopher.

  'So where has your father been since then?' asked Amaryllis, coming to a halt just in front of the boy and looking him in the eye.

  'Don't know. I thought he'd just gone back to London - he's got a flat there anyway. I haven't spoken to him.'

  'A friend of ours saw your mother at about half-past four - maybe a bit after that,' said Amaryllis. 'She was in a hurry and she was heading for the Happiness Club.'

  'Happiness Club. Ha!' said Zak. 'That was another thing they argued about.'

  'In what way?' said Amaryllis.

  'He said it was a big con trick. Mum said it was the only way she was going to get any kind of a social life the way things were. He said he didn't see why she needed a social life at her age… She said it was typical of him to bring up her age - she's a year older than him, you see.'

  'So they argued about the Happiness Club,' said Amaryllis slowly. 'Do your parents have a car?'

  'Mum's got a Mini, and I get to drive it sometimes. Dad's got his pet Porsche, of course.'

  'A cream Porsche?' said Amaryllis and Christopher in unison.

  Zak looked from one of them to the other and smiled to himself.

  'Yes, a cream Porsche,' he agreed. 'Why?'

  'It was seen here earlier today,' Amaryllis told him.

  'You mean my Dad's been here all the time? Not in London? What about his job?'

  'All good questions,' said Amaryllis. 'We don't have the answers to them, unfortunately. And of course, there might be someone else connected with Pitkirtly who drives a cream Porsche. But that's one coincidence too far.'

  'Would your mother have rung you if she were going to spend the night away?' said Christopher.

  'Maybe,' said Zak in a small voice. 'We don't have all that much to do with each other, though.'

  Christopher wondered if they should worry Zak by telling him about the shooting. If they told him and it turned out that nobody had been hurt, they would have worried him for nothing; but if his mother had been injured, he would have to know about it as soon as possible. But wouldn't the police have sent someone round to the Johnstone residence to break the news in that case? He felt a weight had lifted off his mind. Of course! If Zak hadn't heard anything, then it was probably all right.

  'Did you stay in the house for a while after your mother went out?' said Amaryllis, whose thoughts as often happened seemed to be running along the same lines as Christopher's. 'Were you still there at about tea-time?'

  He shook his head. 'I left soon after her. I was meeting Giancarlo - we went to the pictures. In Dunfermline. Then I came back to Pirkirtly with him. Then I rang home but there was nobody there. My Mum's mobile wasn't working either. I thought I'd have a look round and see if I could find her somewhere here. She'd taken the Mini and I thought I might get a lift home. But the Mini's parked down near the harbour and there's no sign of her.'

  'Do you have a phone with you? In case she needs to get in touch with you?' said Amaryllis.

  He looked faintly guilty. 'It's run out of charge. I forgot to re-charge it before I came out.'

  'So,' said Christopher, summing up. 'You haven't been home so you might have missed a message there, and your phone isn't working so you wouldn't have got a message that way either. So even if something's happened to your mother, you wouldn't have the faintest idea.'

  'Not my fault, is it?' said Zak, kicking the skirting-board. 'Anyway, nothing's happened to her. To either of them.'

  'Maybe you should get in touch with the police,' said Christopher reluctantly. 'In case there's any news.'

  'Why?' said Zak. 'Do you think something's happened to her?' He looked from Christopher to Amaryllis and back again. 'Something has happened, hasn't it? You're not telling me the whole story.'

  He flung himself out of the chair and headed straight for Amaryllis. Christopher was amazed at his bravado, after the last time. She held him at arm's length and said calmly.

  'We don't know exactly what's happened, but there has been some sort of an incident at the Happiness Club. Neighbours claim they heard shots being fired. The police have been up there. There's no reason to think it's got anything to do with your mother.'

  Zak's mouth trembled.

  Stewie said suddenly from the depths of the sofa, 'It'll be fine, Zak. Don't worry.'

  'Even if it isn't fine,' said Amaryllis, still completely calm, 'getting in a panic won't help. Now, concentrate. Is there a friend your Mum might have gone to stay with?'

  Zak thought for a moment.

  'Mrs Petrelli?'

  'OK,' said Amaryllis.

  Christopher knew how much she didn't want to face Mrs Petrelli - after all, she had once been shot by a member of the Petrelli family - but he also knew she wouldn't shy away from going to see the woman if that would help Zak.

  'Anybody else?' he said hopefully.

  Zak thought again for a bit longer. 'Jan at the wool shop?'

  'I think she might be away on holiday,' said Amaryllis, 'but we can try there too… Come on, then. What are we waiting for?'

  Christopher and Stewie made moves to come along, but she said, 'Better if Zak and I just go. You two stay here, and don't do anything silly. Make sure your phone's switched on, Christopher, in case we need reinforcements.'

  We're not the ones who need telling not to do anything silly, thought Christopher, but he didn't say it. Instead he looked at Stewie. 'Want a game of Spy Chase?' he said. 'Or will we watch one of Amaryllis's James Bond movies?'

  Chapter 18 Into the enemy camp

  It would have to be Giulia Petrelli, thought Amaryllis as they turned up towards the High Street. Why couldn't Penelope have been best friends with Maisie Sue, or Jemima? Better still, why couldn't she have moved to Aberdour and stayed there, instead of haunting Pitkirtly like an unquiet spirit? There must be other things she would prefer to do elsewhere: there was no need for her to be so desperate for a social life that she had to join the Happiness Club.

  'She did it for me,' said Zak gloomily.

  'What?' Amaryllis had the uneasy feeling he had read her thoughts. It was bad enough that she and Christopher sometimes seemed to share one brain between them, but now this troubled teenager had a direct line into her mind too. She had always thought of herself as being good at keeping secrets, but not any more, apparently. Or perhaps these people all had second sight caused by centuries of in-breeding.

  Thinking these dark thoughts, Amaryllis trudged down the High Street, Zak clinging to her side like a shadow.

  The Petrellis' ice-cream shop wasn't far from the harbour. They had kept it going even after the events of early spring. Amaryllis guessed some other relatives were helping out while the numbers available in the family were depleted.

  The only time she had been in the restaurant, she remembered Jock McLean ordering a knickerbocker glory. She smiled at the memory.

  'She joined the Happiness Club for my benefit,' said Zak.

  That seemed extremely unlikely but she asked, 'What makes you think that?'

  'She thought I'd be happier if she was happier. She even made me go with her to show me how happy she was. It was all a big lie though. She didn't enjoy herself. And she was furious when the boat blew up. Said it was incompetence of the worst kind - she sounded just like Dad then. It was just the kind of thing he would have said.'

  'OK,' said Amaryllis. They had arrived outside the restaurant. 'Where's the family entrance?'

  'It's here,' said Zak, leading the way round the corner and up an outside staircase which betrayed the building's origins as a fisherman's cottage.

  'Don't get your hopes up,' Amaryllis warned him. 'She probably won't be here.'

  Penelope Johnstone wasn't there.

  A sleepy-looking Giulia Petrelli answered the door to them. She wore a dressing-gown, and gave them a 'what time do you call this' look, but she evidently had some sympathy for Zak, because she asked them to come inside for a moment while she told them what had happened.

 
'Penelope is at the police station,' she explained, large brown eyes anxiously fixed on Zak. 'She has been there for a few hours now. The police came here and took her. She is quite safe there, but of course she is worried too. And she was most worried about not being able to speak to you. Because you didn't answer your phone.'

  Zak swore at himself quietly.

  'He forgot to re-charge it,' Amaryllis explained.

  'If you go to the police station, they will let you see her, no?' said Giulia.

  'Do you know why they took her there?' said Zak.

  Giulia shook her head. 'They didn't tell me.'

  'What about my Dad?' said Zak. 'Have you seen him? Did Mum speak to him on the phone or anything while she was here?'

  'She was very angry with him,' said Giulia. 'I don't think they spoke.'

  She stifled a yawn. Amaryllis saw that it was time to go. She put her hand on Zak's arm.

  'Let's go round to the police station now. The cleaner said there was nobody there, but she was making that up. They’re all there. We'll get some answers.'

  Amaryllis was furious with herself for being taken in by the cleaner's story. There had been such a lot of extraneous detail, but that was a classic sign that someone was making things up. It probably hadn't even been a cleaner. She suspected them all of being primed not to tell her anything.

  'Sorry about earlier,' said Sergeant Whitefield, not sounding very apologetic as she opened the police station door to them ten minutes later. 'On the phone, I mean. Mr Smith thought it was best.'

  No, he didn't, thought Amaryllis crossly, he knew what would wind me up most. I must be losing my touch - getting too predictable. She sighed. Would she have to re-locate yet again to get away from these entrenched police attitudes, amounting more or less to harassment in her opinion?

  'Where's my Mum?' said Zak. He sounded like a petulant toddler. And yet, apart from trying to attack Amaryllis, which had been perfectly understandable, he had behaved quite maturely.

  Mr Smith spoke to them both together in an interview room.

  'I can't say too much at this point, of course, but Mrs Johnstone is helping us with our enquiries. She hasn't been arrested as yet.'

  'Enquiries into what?' said Zak.

  'Ah, I'm afraid I can't answer that for the moment.' His face was bland. Amaryllis knew he must be aware of how frustrating she found this. She also knew this awareness would make him more determined to keep all the important information from her.

  'Do you know where Mr Johnstone is?' she asked.

  He shook his head. 'No, I can't say we do. Is he missing?'

  'Not really,' said Zak. 'I thought he was in London, but she told me his car's been seen in Pitkirtly.' He stared accusingly at Amaryllis.

  'Oh, yes?' said Mr Smith. 'And what sort of car is that?'

  'A Porsche,' said Zak.

  Some emotion rippled across Mr Smith's face, but even Amaryllis, with her years of experience of reading faces, couldn't work out what it was. Possibly envy, she thought.

  'Mrs Johnstone hasn't asked us to contact him,' he said. 'She wanted us to tell you, Zak, which is why we've let you in here at this time in the evening. I'm afraid you won't be able to speak to her until the morning.'

  'What about bail?' said Amaryllis.

  'We'll discuss bail if Mrs Johnstone is charged with anything,' said Mr Smith.

  'A solicitor?'

  'She hasn't yet asked for a solicitor, although she has been advised to engage one.'

  Amaryllis searched for a way of breaking through his formality and turning him back into Charlie Smith, the lonely man seeking a soul-mate, who had entertained her with stories from his years on the beat when they were all stuck on Inchcolm.

  'Can you tell us anything about the investigation into the explosion on the boat?' she said, chancing it.

  A resigned expression, similar to the usual one she saw when she crossed his path, appeared on his face.

  'You know I can't. It'll be a good while before forensics have finished with the boat anyway… How's Mr McLean?'

  'He's making good progress, thank you.'

  They seemed to have nothing more to say to each other.

  'When can I see my Mum?' said Zak on the way out of the room.

  'Eight-thirty tomorrow morning,' said Mr Smith. 'Don't worry, we'll look after her.'

  As they emerged from the police station, Amaryllis saw one tear running down Zak's cheek.

  'Where do you want to go tonight?' she asked him/ 'You can share Stewie's room at my place if you want.'

  He nodded.

  'Just one thing first,' she said. 'Let's take a detour round by the Happiness Club. I'd like to have a look at something.'

  'What do you think happened there?' said Zak.

  She sighed. 'I'm not sure we'll ever find out, to be honest. The police certainly aren't in a hurry to say anything, so I doubt if it'll be in the papers tomorrow.'

  'Don't you have ways of getting hold of information like this?'

  She smiled. 'Strictly speaking, I'm not allowed to use them.'

  'Can I hire you to help my Mum? If it comes to the point/'

  'Hire me?'

  'Darren told me you helped him and his Mum. As a private investigator. It was cool.'

  'Not so cool getting shot,' said Amaryllis. 'And I seem to remember you and some of your friends were on the wrong side in that particular situation.'

  She said it with mock sternness. She didn't want to frighten the boy. He seemed to represent her best chance of getting to know a bit more about what had happened at the Happiness Club. But if it came to the point, she wasn't sure if she could help both Penelope and Maisie Sue. She might have to choose between them, so she couldn't in all conscience make any promises to Zak. She told him as much.

  'But it might be that what helps your Mum will help Mrs MacPherson too,' she concluded.

  They were almost there. They could see the police tape flapping at the front of the shop. There was no sign of an actual police presence, although Amaryllis knew they couldn't rule out that possibility.

  'We'll go round the back,' she whispered to Zak.

  'But - it's blocked off too,' he replied, pointing to the tape across the track that led round to the back of the small terrace of buildings.

  'Never mind that,' said Amaryllis, ducking under it. 'You can stay here and keep guard, or you can come with me.'

  He ducked under the tape meekly.

  It was dark at the side of the buildings, but when they turned the corner they were almost blinded by a light that suddenly snapped on.

  Zak jumped.

  'It's just an automatic security light,' whispered Amaryllis. 'Give yourself a minute to get used to it.'

  The light illuminated a white van sitting at one side of a paved area. The motor-caravan where Amaryllis had encountered Dilly Fraser was over at the far side. Its windows were dark, but it was impossible to tell whether there was anyone in it or not. She hadn't worked out whether the van was Dilly's permanent home. In some ways she felt envious if it was: there would be a lot of freedom in living a nomadic existence, moving on from one place to another when you got bored, or when you felt like a change of scenery. Or when the local police had got your measure, she added grimly to herself.

  She wasn't tempted to steal it, however, despite the undoubted attractions. After all she had been through, it wasn't worth the risk, and it would be really embarrassing when she was caught and brought to trial. She could almost see the scorn on the faces of her former colleagues if they ever found out.

  Amaryllis and Zak crept round the outside of the caravan, keeping quiet by unspoken mutual consent. There was no sound from inside, not that there would be much sound anyway if the occupants were asleep. Some snoring, perhaps, especially if Sean Fraser had drunk too much, which seemed fairly likely.

  They crept towards the back door of the old café.

  Amaryllis knew it was unlikely to be open, but she was disappointed to find it securely barred. S
hort of bringing a crowbar with her, she couldn't open it. A nearby window had been boarded over. The police weren't taking any chances. What exactly had happened here?

  They had turned away from the door, again in unison, when a bright light shone in their eyes once more.

  'Who's that?' Amaryllis demanded, recognising it as the beam of a powerful torch. 'What do you want?'

  The reply came as a shock. A gunshot resonated round the yard. Then silence.

  The light went off.

  Chapter 19 Poacher or gamekeeper?

  They were sitting ducks in the light from the torch, now that the security light had gone out. Amaryllis pushed Zak out of the way just before the shot rang out, and then she flung herself down on the ground. Although she knew how to fall, the paved area of the yard wasn't the best surface to land on, and she took a moment to establish that her limbs were all in working order before getting to her feet again, which she did once she judged it to be safe.

  Of course safety was always relative, and she was very relieved indeed to hear a man's voice say, in an incredulous tone, 'Zak?'

  'Dad?' said Zak, equally incredulously.

  Amaryllis stood aside while the two of them rushed towards each other and hugged in a manly, father and son kind of way.

  'Did you shoot at us just now?' said Zak in a shaky voice.

  'I shot over your heads,' said his father. 'Sorry - I thought you must be somebody else. I didn't see properly at first once I put on the torch. I dazzled myself accidentally.'

  'Who did you think we were?' Amaryllis demanded.

  'You're Amaryllis Peebles, aren't you?' said Zak's father. He let go of his son for a moment, and approached her. In the dim light that filtered through from the street lights out on the main road, she could see he was holding out his hand to shake hers politely, as if they had met at a cocktail party or some sort of reception instead of under rather different circumstances. 'Liam Johnstone. Sorry - hell of a way to introduce myself.'

  'Do you always shoot first and ask questions afterwards?' said Amaryllis, keeping her hands firmly in the pockets of her old leather jacket. 'I hear you narrowly missed a friend of mine on the beach at Aberdour last week.'