by Carly Reid
“Well, I’ve had a wee look. Next door I mean –” Craig jerked his head towards the staff room, “– and that’s definitely the suit. I mean the exact same suit, the belt, the padding, the fluffy beard, it’s all there.”
Jessica studied the photo, and nodded. It was true, this did look exactly like the suit that they had just placed on the table.
“But how did it get there? Jessica, do you think Ian Johnston planted it there? And why would he do that? Why would anyone do that?”
Craig had dropped his voice and glanced over Jessica’s shoulder to where Ian Johnston still sat in the booth at the back of the bar.
“No.” Jessica was decisive. “I saw him go through the gate. He wasn’t carrying it then. He must at least be telling the truth about finding it there.”
“OK, OK. Let’s think. Why would someone else put Bill Johnston’s Santa suit out the back of the pub – who would have had access to it? He had it on him when I found him! It was taken away in the ambulance…”
Jessica stared at Craig, her eyes wide. She had just had an idea. And if – it was a big if, but there was a chance – it was true, then Craig was completely in the clear.
“Craig, listen to me. Listen. What if the suit we just found was the suit that Santa wore, but it wasn’t the suit you found Bill Johnston in?”
Craig stared at Jessica, confused.
“What are you saying?”
Jessica tried again.
“I’m saying could the suit – that Santa suit that’s in your staff room – be the one that Santa wore on the night of the procession, but NOT the one that Bill Johnston wore on Friday night?”
Craig looked as if he was beginning to understand. He looked at the newspaper again. “You mean–”
Jessica nodded. She put her finger on the photograph.
“I’m saying what if the person that was inside that Santa suit was not Bill Johnston?”
Craig, stunned, looked from the photograph to Jessica and back again.
“But that would mean–”
“It would mean that we have been looking at this all wrong, Craig. Maybe Bill Johnston was killed much earlier in the evening, and someone else took his place! Can you think back? Did you notice anything?”
“I don’t know Jessica. It’s a few days ago, and there’s been so much happened since.”
“Just try. Remember, it was before the procession started. Bill Johnston would have come back in – I saw him, from outside, near the stage.”
Craig squeezed his eyes shut.
“Aye. You’re right. Bill comes back in and stomps off back to the gents, where he was getting changed. A few minutes later Amy comes in too, she didnae order anything – I’m no’ exactly sure where she went. The pub was really empty now that I think about it, apart from a couple of regulars that won’t move for anything. Everyone had gone out to see the lights being switched on.”
He opened his eyes.
“How’s that?”
Jessica was a little disappointed but she tried not to show it.
“Really good. You’ve got a great memory. You don’t remember noticing anyone else coming in?”
“Not at that point. People had been in earlier, but as I say, they had mostly moved outside to see the lights.”
Jessica nodded. She wasn’t sure what she had hoped for – a definitive sighting of Ian Johnston, perhaps? Or an imposter, suiting up in red? If Craig had seen anything like that, surely he would have mentioned it already.
They were both distracted by Murdo’s arrival.
“What’s going on here then? Craig said that you’d found something – and that Ian Johnston had turned up here?”
“Yes, he’s–” Jessica turned away from the bar towards the back of the room, but stopped short at what she saw.
There was no-one sitting in the back booth. Ian Johnston had gone.
Where is Amy?
Murdo responded with urgency, immediately getting on the phone to DI Gordon. Jessica whipped her head around to look at Craig.
“Craig – did you call Ian Johnston about the broken Christmas lights?”
“What?” Craig looked at her, baffled, and Jessica knew that her question seemed to come from nowhere, but she was following her own internal train of logic.
“Please, just think. Was it you who noticed that some of the Christmas tree lights had failed, and did you call Ian Johnston?”
Craig was still clearly bewildered at the question, but he answered, although more slowly than Jessica would have liked. She fought the urge to shake him.
“Well, aye, I did notice some of the lights were oot, and some others were flickering a bit, although you don’t really notice in the daytime. I didnae really know what to do about it, wi’ Bill Johnston being the one who installed them, but eventually I decided I would just speak to his apprentice, Amy Matthews.”
Jessica felt a clutch of panic in her stomach. That was what she had been afraid of.
“Jessica, why are you asking? What does it matter about the lights noo?”
“Don’t you see? Amy is not a fully qualified electrician. She wouldn’t attempt to fix the lights herself. She must have contacted Ian Johnston to take a look – and you heard him. I know what he was saying was pretty jumbled up, but didn’t you catch him asking who had sent him there to find the suit? He clearly thinks he’s been set up to take the fall for his brother’s murder.”
As Jessica responded, Murdo finished his phone call and rejoined the conversation. “What’s this, Jessica?” he asked.
Jessica explained their theory as best she could. Even as she went through the steps it sounded ridiculous to her ears, and it was hard to tell whether Murdo thought it had any credibility or not, but he listened gravely.
Jessica concluded: “And Ian Johnston was muttering about who sent him to find the suit. Craig says he asked Amy to look at the lights and I think she must have contacted Ian Johnston – so what if he thinks she set him up? Sent him there deliberately to find the suit, that is? I’m worried about her.”
Then, Jessica had a brainwave. “Murdo! Can you go to Amy’s and check on her? Make sure she is OK?”
Murdo sighed. At that moment the old man at the end of the bar, who had been apparently oblivious to everything that had gone on, waved Craig down to order another drink and Craig moved to serve him. Murdo drew Jessica away from the bar, and closer to the door.
“I understand your concern, Jessica. But this theory of yours – it’s just a theory. We dinnae know why there’s another Santa suit, and yours is one explanation but I’ll need to speak to the Detective Inspector about it some more. For the moment, he says our priority is tracking down Ian Johnston. I’ll ask Craig no’ to touch the suit any more and we will take a better look later. DI Gordon is on his way here to pick me up.”
A huge wave of panic washed over Jessica.
“But surely you can still go and check on Amy?”
By Murdo’s hesitation, Jessica knew that she was not going to be able to relax.
“Well…no, actually. The Detective Inspector thinks that Ian Johnston has done a runner. He thinks that this is further evidence that he did murder his brother. I doubt he would hang around in Dalkinchie if that was the case. We are going to follow up a lead – the Detective Inspector thinks that he spotted his van, headed out of the village. So we won’t be able to check in on Amy, I’m afraid.”
Jessica’s face fell as she looked at Murdo. He gave a half smile and shrugged, then went over to talk to Craig. Jessica watched their conversation play out, assuming that Murdo was giving Craig instructions about the Santa suit, but the buzzing in her ears drowned out any conversation. Murdo finished talking to Craig and left the pub, nodding sympathetically to Jessica as he passed her by.
Jessica couldn’t blame Murdo. He was only doing what he was told. Yet she was still feeling very anxious about Amy. She rushed back over to the bar.
“Craig – maybe you could call Amy? You have her number, right?�
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“Aye, good idea!”
He slipped his phone out of his back jeans pocket and tapped at the screen a couple of times. He put the phone on speaker mode so that Jessica could listen in. It rang – one, two, three, six times in total. Then it went to voicemail.
“I’ll try again.”
Craig went through the same motions again, with the same result. He looked up from the phone and his eyes met Jessica’s.
“Right. I’ll go and check on her myself.”
Jessica didn’t know whether she was making a wise decision or not. She didn’t know whether Ian Johnston had killed his brother or not. Even if he was innocent, he could definitely be unpleasant and might target Amy. If he was guilty, then he was capable of murder, and might go after the person that still had proof of his motive. All Jessica knew was that she wouldn’t be able to put her mind at rest until Amy was confirmed as safe.
* * *
In her haste, Jessica leaned on the buzzer for a little too long. She found herself whispering under her breath while she waited. “Come on, come on, come on!” Her finger was close to pushing it a second time when it finally crackled to life, and Amy’s voice was audible, if a little odd and distant sounding.
“Hello?”
Perhaps that was her imagination. Jessica mostly felt relief, the anxious pit in her stomach rapidly disappearing again. “Hello, Amy, it’s Jessica here. Can I come up? I just wanted to check you were OK.” As she said it, she realized it sounded a bit lame.
“I’m fine. Now’s not really a good time.”
Instantly Jessica’s senses were on high alert again.
“You mean I can’t come up? Are you ill? Is something wrong?”
Once again, the odd, disconnected, slightly stilted response.
“I’m not ill. It’s just a bad time, that’s all.”
Jessica sighed. “Amy, please let me up. I just want to make sure you are OK.”
Her overactive imagination was whirling into overdrive. Was Ian Johnston up there now, making Amy answer the buzzer but not letting her speak freely? Was she safe? Even as she thought, Jessica realized there was another possibility. That Amy had, in fact, set Ian Johnston up. Hadn’t Craig just said she followed Bill in on Friday evening?
“Fine. OK. I won’t be able to let you in though.”
As soon as Amy unlocked the door Jessica barreled through it, and took the stairs two at a time. When she reached the top landing, Amy’s door was locked, unlike the two previous occasions. Jessica still wasn’t reassured. She knocked sharply on the door.
“Just coming!”
After a few moments, the door opened inwards a few inches and Amy’s face appeared around the side of it.
“Amy, are you OK?”
Amy’s expression didn’t give anything away. She looked normal enough, not ill, not scared, not as if she was being held hostage by a murderer – although what would that look like? She nodded.
“I told you, I’m fine. What was so urgent that you just had to come up?”
Jessica sighed.
“Look, can I really not come in?”
“I told you, it’s not a good time.” Amy didn’t explain any further. Jessica tried a different tack.
“Is there…someone in there with you?”
This time Amy’s response was swift and indignant.
“No! Now, come on. You insisted on coming up here, so please tell me what it was about.”
Jessica didn’t really have any further ideas. She went with the truth. “Well…you know they were having problems with the Christmas lights at The Ram’s Heid.”
“Yes. Craig called me.”
“Ian Johnston has been out and had a look at them.” Jessica watched Amy’s face carefully for any sign of a reaction when she mentioned Ian Johnston’s name. Nothing. Not a flicker. Either Amy was a very good actress, or she genuinely didn’t feel much in response to this news.
“Right. Good. I told him about the problem. I could easily have done it, but as you know I’m not fully qualified, so officially I shouldn’t be doing jobs unsupervised. Did he fix them?”
“Um…I don’t think so.” Jessica didn’t want to explain everything that had happened, but she was sure that Ian Johnston had been interrupted before he was able to do anything about the lights.
“I’m sure he’ll take another look. Not sure why this was so important that you had to come up here, but thanks for letting me know, anyway. I’ll see you later.” Amy began to close her door, and Jessica to turn away, before she remembered something.
“Amy – wait!”
Amy sighed. ‘Yes? What is it now?”
“Friday night – the night of the procession. You told me you went straight home when the procession started. But someone else said they saw you in the pub just before it.”
“Well…maybe I went in and got myself a quick drink. I can’t quite remember.”
“Sure. So…do you think that is what you did? Got yourself a drink and then went home?”
“Yes…maybe…I’m not sure. I sometimes do that, just grab a coke and sit in one of the window seats. The pub was quiet that night, I remember that – I suppose everyone else was following the procession, and it was busier later. Anyway, I don’t see what it matters. Bill was killed much later on. I wasn’t there then, and I definitely didn’t see anything.”
Jessica looked at Amy through slightly narrowed eyes. “Right…right. Of course. I was just wondering. I’ll see you later.”
She turned away again, but Amy made no move to close the door this time. In fact, Jessica was sure she could feel Amy’s eyes on her back until she reached the top of the stairs.
Clues from the Elves
The light from Lissa’s window was bright and inviting in the dark of the late afternoon, making the interior vivid and clear to see. It was nearly the winter solstice, and the sun had already set. Jessica hadn’t intended popping in after leaving Amy’s flat, but when she saw who was sitting inside, she made up her mind.
Mairead sat with her friend Katie at one of the back tables. It was the last hour before closing, and there were not many people in the café now. Ealisaid herself wasn’t visible when Jessica first entered but soon came through to check when she heard the door open. Jessica knew she had probably started winding down for the day, safely chilling and storing any remaining soup from her enormous pot, packing away sandwich ingredients, doing an inventory check. At this time of day, Ealisaid only served drinks and cakes.
Seeing it was Jessica, Ealisaid smiled and motioned that she would be out in a moment. She retreated back into the kitchen. That suited Jessica perfectly. She wanted a chance to chat to Mairead and Katie alone.
She moved to the back of the café.
“Hi Mairead, would it be OK if I joined you?”
Mairead half-shrugged. She didn’t seem particularly bothered either way. Katie, however, was far more effusive, and slightly pulled out the chair to her right.
“Hi Jessica! Of course you can, no problem at all. We were just chatting about the Bill Johnston case, you know.”
As she said the second half of her sentence, Katie’s voice dropped and she glanced around at the other customers in the café. She needn’t have worried. There was a teenage lad, sitting nursing a frothy cappuccino, working on a laptop. He wore the type of headphones that blocked out external noise, dark red cupped ones that entirely covered his ears. The only other customer, an elderly woman, sat right at the front of the café. She had a hat pulled down over her ears and wasn’t paying them the slightest bit of attention.
Katie’s conversational opening made it very easy for Jessica to get to the point. She wouldn’t have to steer them towards the events of Friday night – they were already talking about it. Good.
“I’ve been thinking about it too. It’s all so complicated.”
Here, Mairead interrupted. This was so unusual that Jessica let her continue.
“No’ that complicated. Surely the brother did it?
They never liked each other.”
It seemed that the locals were in agreement with the police. Jessica wondered where they had got to, whether they had successfully caught up with Ian Johnston. She nodded her agreement.
“It definitely looks that way, although it’s still unclear exactly how he would have managed it.”
Katie and Mairead looked at each other in surprise. It was Katie who responded again.
“Why? Surely he just got him in the pub after Bill had finished up at the grotto?”
Jessica wasn’t sure how much to tell them; after all, her theory was still just that – a theory. However, there was something nagging at her about the assumption of Ian Johnston as the murderer – something not right about the way that events had played out.
“Well, actually –“
Immediately both girls were alert, eager to hear the new information.
“What?” Mairead couldn’t conceal her impatience. For a moment Jessica enjoyed being able to hold the young woman’s attention. Usually Mairead couldn’t have been less interested in anything Jessica had to say, and wasn’t shy about showing it. Now she was staring at her directly, all agog for Jessica’s next words.
“There’s some evidence that suggests that Bill Johnston might have been murdered before the procession. Before the grotto.” Jessica didn’t spell out what that meant, leaving it for Mairead and Katie to work out for themselves.
The effect on the two young women was quite different. The color drained from Katie’s face and she sat, trying to process what she had just learned, her eyes flicking to one side – possibly to conceal the beginning of tears.
Mairead, on the other hand, leaned forward, eyes glittering with excitement.