Mince Pies and Murder

by Carly Reid

  Reenie nodded towards the card in Samantha Johnston’s hand.

  “Can I have a quick word with you just now, perhaps?”

  Samantha Johnston pulled over a chair from a neighboring table and perched on the edge of it, crossing her legs as she did so. She looked inquiringly at Reenie.

  Reenie glanced at Jessica, who nodded a little. She knew her aunt well, and knew that Reenie was keen to secure this business, but would also feel guilty about interrupting their morning coffee. Jessica didn’t mind. She was happily enjoying her gingerbread latte, looking at the window and, if she happened to overhear any gossip from Samantha Johnston, that could hardly be her fault now, could it?

  Reenie answered.

  “Of course. I’d be happy to have a chat with you just now, but a more in-depth discussion, it really would be better if you would be able to come to the shop and see what I have.”

  A small flicker of something like annoyance crossed Samantha Johnson‘s face. She made a vague handwaving gesture, as if to brush away Reenie’s suggestion. She replied:

  “I’ve seen what you have, in the function suite. I’m sure you can do a good job. I was thinking, maybe, roses and tulips…”

  Reenie nodded. She answered as best she could:

  “Tulips, and roses to some extent, are best suited to happy, celebratory occasions. For funerals and sympathy arrangements I would usually suggest lilies made up with carnations and chrysanthemums, although roses can also do well if you like them, and I’m happy to source and incorporate whatever our customers want. In addition, while tulips are available all year round, the prices are definitely seasonal, and they are very expensive right now. I can understand if you’d rather not talk about this now, but it really helps if you have an idea of budget from the outset. If there’s some time pressure…”

  Jessica watched Samantha Johnston’s face as her aunt spoke. Her expression didn’t change, but she tilted her head very slightly to one side, as if considering Reenie’s words.

  “I’m not worried about budget. I hadn’t considered the suitability aspect though, and you are right, I probably should take a look at what you can do. I’ll take your advice and pop into the shop. In the High Street you say?”

  “Yes, number twelve.” Reenie replied.

  “Great. I’ll see you there sometime this week. Thanks for your help.”

  Samantha Johnston swung her curtain of shiny blonde hair around her back, and stood up, leaving the chair she had displaced exactly where it was. She nodded to both Reenie and Jessica, and left, walking back across the bar to where Jessica could see her companion, the woman from earlier, was waiting at the entrance. Reenie waited until they had completely left the bar before saying in quiet tones to Jessica:

  “Did I handle that really badly? I didn’t want to let her know that I knew who she was, and knew that she was probably arranging a funeral. I tried to talk in the most general terms, but I think I might have put her off. I mean, if she wants tulips, she can have tulips…”

  Jessica, still looking over to where the couple had left, wasn’t sure. She felt that Reenie’s words had been entirely appropriate, but there was no denying that Samantha Johnston had reacted oddly. Almost as if they had been talking at cross-purposes. She tried to reassure her aunt.

  “I’m sure it was nothing you said, Reenie. If she wants your flowers, she’ll be back. She must be under a lot of stress.”

  Although even as she said this, Jessica thought that if Samantha Johnston was under a lot of stress, she wasn’t showing it. Despite herself, Jessica felt her curiosity piqued again.

  * * *

  Jessica and Reenie returned to the cottage, where Reenie immediately began preparations for a roast chicken dinner. One of the wonderful things about Dalkinchie was the availability of fresh local produce, and in this instance Reenie had bought the chicken from the local butcher who also sold vegetables directly supplied by local farms. Jessica scrubbed potatoes that had been grown in the lush fields that lay between Dalkinchie and Drummond, and moved on to peel carrots that had come from one of the local smallholdings managed by the Drummond estate.

  “Right, Jessica. You are on the veg, I’m doing some Yorkshire pudding to go with it. I think I’ll make your granny’s homemade gravy recipe, and also fry up some skirlie.” Reenie was a good cook, although her long hours meant that during the week she usually relied on quick and simple dishes.

  “Skirlie? What’s that?” If Jessica had eaten skirlie before, she didn’t remember.

  “Oatmeal and onions fried in butter. It’s delicious. See what you think when you taste it.” As Reenie spoke, she placed three large apples on a baking tray. Stuffed with raisins, butter and cinnamon, the apples went into the oven. Reenie, aware of the feasting to come, planned these as a lighter option – but given that she would serve the warm, spiced fruit with heavy cream from Balnaguise, the Smiths’ dairy farm, Jessica was certain that it wouldn’t turn out to be all that light after all.

  Grant arrived promptly at one o’clock, bearing a bottle of wine and some oatcakes. Jessica answered the door.

  “Hi, Grant! How are you?”

  “I’m well, and glad to be here! It suits me perfectly. My mother is at a senior Christmas lunch in the Village Hall, so it’s nice not to be cooking for one.”

  Jessica smiled as she took his coat, keeping her thoughts to herself.

  He had brought his black labrador, Skye, with him, and Jessica was entertained as always by Willow’s reaction. The little dog had been lurking in the kitchen, hyper-aware of all the delicious smells, but as soon as the dignified older dog arrived she fell into her usual habit of pestering her. Skye stood patiently, her tail gently waving as the puppy capered around her, letting out two short barks. Then the labrador walked to her usual spot in front of Reenie’s fire and, after a good scratch, curled up in Willow’s bed, which was comically too small for her. Willow seemed slightly confused by this, sniffing around Skye and then sitting. After this, she lay down with her head resting on her front paws, watching Skye. The labrador ignored her, and closed her eyes.

  Grant had moved into the open-plan kitchen and fallen immediately into a rhythm of working with Reenie that Jessica had observed before. Although Reenie had only met Grant for the first time when she moved from Edinburgh to Dalkinchie earlier that year, this easy familiarity and connection between them had arisen almost immediately. Jessica knew that both of them had their challenges – Reenie was focused on building up her new business and her new life away from the city, and Grant’s caring responsibilities and full-time job meant he didn’t have much time to himself – but she felt that this should not present a barrier if the two of them wanted to be together. Now she watched as the timer went off, and Grant automatically passed Reenie the oven mitts.

  “Lunch is ready!”

  Reenie carried through warmed plates, followed by platters of vegetables, roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding. Grant was carving the chicken.

  Jessica had been relegated to setting the table when Grant arrived, aware that three people in Reenie’s compact kitchen was one too many. Now as they took their seats around the table Jessica reflected once again on the way that this had become the norm, and how comfortable she felt sitting and eating with her Scottish ‘family’. With the cooking finished and all fans and rings switched off, Reenie’s kitchen radio could be heard. On Sunday afternoons there was always a show featuring musical hits presented by a famous singer, and for Jessica, who loved musicals, it added to the festive feel.

  For a few minutes all the conversation related to the meal.

  “Pass the gravy please, Jessica.”

  “Grant, would you like more roast potatoes?”

  “Does anyone want extra chicken?”

  There was then a prolonged silence as everyone tucked in. After about five minutes, the conversation picked up again. Grant and Jessica never wanted to bore Reenie with work talk so saved it for their own meetings. This meant that today there was o
nly one topic – the murder of Bill Johnston on Friday night.

  “It’s a tragic business, of course, but it’s also quite an extraordinary tale. The Ram’s Heid is not a particularly large building, and I can’t help but feel that whatever happened must have been visible to bystanders. The pub was probably at its busiest just after the village festivities wound up, with those coming in from the cold joining those who had been there all evening. I suppose the rush must have kept Craig busy, but someone must have seen something?”

  Grant paused to take another mouthful of chicken, gravy and Yorkshire pudding. Jessica interjected.

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying! You’re right, Grant – Craig says a crowd came in just after Bill did, and he was distracted by serving them. When he next looked up, Bill was nowhere to be seen. But the pub was full of people. So I just don’t see how it could have happened without being noticed.”

  Grant nodded, taking a sip of his wine before continuing. “I’ve been wondering about his young apprentice too, Amy Matthews,” he said. “She’s a nice girl, but quite reserved and aloof. I hope she’s OK. I don’t know what this will mean for her work, and I hope she has someone to talk to about things.”

  Jessica replied, eager to share what she had observed about Amy. “Actually, I spoke to her yesterday about it. You see, I thought – no, I am sure – that Bill upset her on Friday night just before the procession started. I didn’t realize it was him at the time, but she was trying to get the sound system working and couldn’t, and had to go in and ask for help. I suppose he was probably getting dressed up as Santa at the time but he had to stop and come out to fix whatever it was. He definitely had a word with her before he went back inside, and she was upset. However when I asked her yesterday she just denied it. In fact, she told me that I should be talking to his wife, and that they had argued.” As she said this, Jessica began to wonder what exactly that argument had been about. Grant started to reply.

  “Ah, yes…”

  He didn’t get any further before Reenie interrupted. “Jessica, I thought you weren’t going to focus on anything to do with the case. I thought we agreed you shouldn’t get involved this time?”

  Jessica turned in surprise to look at her aunt, who rarely spoke crossly. She hadn’t raised her voice, but it was apparent from the shake in it that she was upset.

  “I know Reenie, but it was nothing much. I had just seen Amy on Friday and when I spotted her in the café yesterday it seemed to make sense to follow her out and–”

  “You followed her out? Jessica, why would you do that? It’s none of your business why she was upset!”

  Grant looked from Reenie to Jessica, and then looked down, clearly not wishing to get involved. Jessica felt defensive, as well as slightly panicky. She really didn’t want to fall out with her aunt – not at all, but definitely not this close to Christmas. Please, I just want everything to go smoothly!

  “Well, I didn’t think anyone else had seen and I just wanted to help her – and perhaps figure out what was going on. I think she might have a point Reenie – didn’t you think Samantha Johnston behaved a bit oddly this morning?”

  Reenie did raise her voice now.

  “I didn’t think anything of the sort. I was speaking to her only as a potential client, and it wouldn’t have been appropriate for me to think of her in any other way. Are you actually saying that you think that she was involved in her ex-husband’s murder?”

  “Well, no, I don’t know, I just thought –”

  Grant stood up.

  “Excuse me ladies, I’ll just go and get some…” He drifted off, clearly wanting to escape to the kitchen so that he didn’t have to be involved in their argument. Jessica felt a momentary pang of guilt. Reenie continued.

  “Jessica, I have already said that you should not be getting involved in this. I am concerned for your safety, and I have said to your parents that I would make sure you didn’t put yourself at risk again. You told me that you wouldn’t investigate, and I would appreciate it if you would stick to your word. I am responsible for you while you live here with me.”

  Jessica’s emotions were a confusion of guilt, empathy for Reenie’s point of view and annoyance at being spoken to as a child. Surely it was her decision whether she got involved or not? She opened her mouth to reply. “Reenie, I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m all grown up now. I won’t take any risks.”

  She may as well not have spoken. Reenie continued without listening.

  “You shouldn’t be doing this, Jessica. It’s the job of the police to find out who killed Bill Johnston, not yours. Running around asking questions, trying to figure things out…The police don’t need you interfering.”

  Sleuthing

  “Jessica, your help would be very much appreciated.”

  DI Gordon spoke decisively, and Murdo nodded along. The two policemen had established themselves in their usual temporary office in one of the Village Hall’s smaller rooms.

  It was Monday, and Jessica hadn’t spoken to Reenie that morning. Yesterday’s meal had finished awkwardly, a stilted silence broken occasionally by Grant’s attempts at making conversation. Jessica cleaned up while Reenie and Grant took the dogs for a walk together, and when Reenie returned Jessica busied herself by tidying out her room, and doing some laundry for the week ahead.

  They had each, separately, made themselves a quick sandwich with leftovers in the evening and then Reenie went for an early night. This wasn’t unusual – it was the Perth flower market on Monday, and it started very early – but Jessica couldn’t help but feel that the tension from their argument lay unresolved. Reenie and Willow were out of the cottage early, long before Jessica woke up on Monday. She had skipped breakfast at home, proceeding straight to Lissa’s where she hoped to be able to unload on Ealisaid – but her friend had been too busy, so Jessica had breakfasted alone, before getting the message from Murdo inviting her to come up to the Village Hall for ‘a wee chat.’

  Now she stared at the Detective Inspector, unsure of what he had just asked. “You need my help…with the Bill Johnston case?”

  DI Gordon replied.

  “Yes. You may believe, as many do, that it can’t be that hard to solve this one. Unfortunately, that’s not what we are finding. I’m not going to share every detail, but suffice to say that we had enough information to begin building a case against a specific individual, and it’s not entirely stacking up. We will continue to pursue it, but we do need some idea of alternatives. As you have shown yourself to be a very observant individual in the past, we wondered whether you had any thoughts. If this case drags on past Christmas –” The Detective Inspector didn’t finish his sentence.

  Jessica felt like she should feel smug, but she didn’t. In fact, she felt really nervous. Perhaps Reenie had been right. After all, the previous cases she had been involved in had put her in real danger at times. On the other hand, she hated the thought of DI Gordon missing out on Christmas celebrations with his partner and the babies. He should be able to put this case behind him, relax and enjoy the special occasion, as should Murdo. She made up her mind.

  “How can I know what will help if I don’t know who your suspect is?”

  DI Gordon sighed. He looked at Murdo, who shrugged as if in agreement with Jessica. “Very well then. We have ruled out Bill Johnston’s ex-wife, who has an alibi for the whole evening. We have been examining Ian Johnston, Bill’s brother. He was the obvious first suspect. He was in the pub that evening, and was certainly present when Bill Johnston arrived there after his Santa duties. It’s well-known locally that the two brothers don’t get on.

  “Ian Johnston is also an electrician and in fact the two men were in business together, carrying on their father’s business, ‘Johnston and Sons’. There was a falling out between them about fifteen years ago, and they divided the business and both struck out on their own. Since then they haven’t had much to do with each other, despite working in the same trade and living in the sa
me village – and drinking in the same pub. There has been no outright animosity until recently.”

  The Detective Inspector paused. He looked at Murdo, who had been nodding as the Detective Inspector spoke, and now began to take up the tale.

  “There wis a big contract going, see, at the Lochside Hydro – have you heard o’ it?”

  Jessica nodded.

  “I was actually there just yesterday, helping my aunt set up for an event.”

  “Aye well, you’ll have seen that they have a big fancy hotel and huge big gardens. They’ve also got posh lodges on the grounds, and an apartment block as well. The contract was for more o’ the lodges. They’re planning to build quite a few more over the next few years, so it will be guaranteed work for quite a while for lots of contractors. It’s a great place, so it is. I’ve never stayed there –well, I wouldnae, that would be daft as it’s just up the road – but I have been to a lovely wedding there, just beautiful it was. A friend o’ mine from school, and one of the bridesmaids got in a right row wi’ the mother o’ the bride just before the cake cutting. I think they had both had a wee bit too much to drink, but they started this big argument aboot the bridesmaid’s shoes, of all things.”

  DI Gordon took over again, cutting straight over Murdo. I’ll ask him about the bridesmaid’s shoes later, thought Jessica, who always enjoyed Murdo’s asides.

  “You can imagine that this contract would form a reasonable motive, Jessica. You see, while the brothers’ animosity towards each other was well known, and they haven’t worked together for years, it would be completely out of character for one of them to suddenly attack the other now. They have managed to co-exist in relative peace, so it would take a trigger – like competing for the same lucrative contract – to bring about a turn of events such as took place on Friday evening.”