The Viv Fraser Mysteries Box Set 2

by V Clifford

  Viv shuddered knowing the question for what it was: a way to coerce someone into an agreement that they didn’t want to make since it would deny social convention to disagree. Viv said, ‘Oh, I can see it has some merit. It’s quite fun, no?’

  Right back at you. In no mood for games she said, ‘Sholto seems like a nice man.’

  A warning look passed from husband to wife who said, ‘Maybe too nice for his own good.’

  The husband said, ‘Bree. I don’t think, sorry I didn’t catch your name.’

  ‘Viv, it’s Viv Fraser.’

  The son reappeared with a glass of bubbly and handed it to his stepmother. He then put out his hand. ‘Hugo.’

  Viv shook his hand. Not very creative with their names. Two Hugos and a Pamela. She wondered if the first Mrs Hamilton had been Pamela too.

  Hugo junior said, ‘So how do you know Sholto?’ Oblivious to the previous conversation.

  ‘Oh I don’t really. My partner is over there. He’s obviously got chatting about something interesting. He lives on the Braes.’

  Hugo junior’s face turned to an expression of concern. ‘Is he a tenant?’

  ‘No. No he isn’t.’

  A brief look of relief passed over his face, and he said, ‘So how long has he known Sholto?’

  ‘Oh not long, although I couldn’t be sure. I expect you’ve all known him all his life?’

  Hugo senior, ‘Yes, yes. Our families grew up together. Inevitable. Inevitable.’

  Viv said, ‘Sorry? What was inevitable?’

  ‘That he and Pammy would end up together.’

  Hugo junior snapped, ‘Only inevitable because you made it thus. Pammy would have been just as . . .’

  Hugo senior, ‘That’s enough Hugo. I’m sure Viv doesn’t want to hear our domestic history.’

  Oh, but she does. She was already building the family politics into something useful. Why did children, whatever age they were, feel threatened by stepmothers? And vice versa. When money or property were in the frame it seemed unavoidable. What was it that Hugo junior believed wasn’t inevitable? What else could Pamela have been happy doing or becoming? Just as Viv was about to ask this question a man dressed in tweed bustled into the space and to the relief of Mr and Mrs Hamilton the conversation turned to the amount of money the wind farm had generated that month. Time to make a move to leave.

  Viv raised her glass, said cheers to them all and slipped into the crowd making her way to where she’d last spotted Mac. He was still in conversation with a group of three so she caught the waiter and asked where the loo was. The country house loo was often where the real family portraits were. Photographs of generations all Blu-Taked onto boards and hung up for the inner world to see, until nights like these when they were made available to all and sundry. This loo was grander than others she had been in. No sign of the usual horsey or doggy tack. A double marble basin with shiny brass taps, white linen curtains thick enough to hold back the Armada and a beautiful art deco lamp. It reminded her of an old theatre dressing room. Inside the actual loo cubicle she found what she knew she would - pinned to each wall, the ubiquitous panels of family snaps. She had to use the torch on her phone to get a proper look at them but they made for interesting research.

  Lots of early prints of what must have been Sholto with his parents, Sholto looking very unhappy on a pony, which would account for the absence of tack around now. A happy carefree young Sholto with a little cherubic girl who must be Pamela on a pony and another small boy featured in many. In a photograph of his year at Eton, Sholto looked utterly miserable. Stern and lacklustre. It was like staring at someone’s evolution in pictures. Photographs of him and Pamela as teenagers were equally carefree. Viv wondered where the girl had been packed off to, to ‘finish’ her education. She’d probably have a social media presence with her old school.

  Viv heard the outer door being tried, so quickly took photographs of any pictures that she thought might be useful. She flushed the loo, washed her hands in the lovely marble basin and then opened the outer door to come face to face with Pamela.

  ‘Hello, I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Pamela Hamilton.’

  Viv was about to put out her hand but instinct told her this wasn’t Pamela’s form. ‘Hi. Viv Fraser. I’m a friend of Marcus.’

  Pamela’s brow furrowed, then as if she worked it out, ‘Ah, do you mean the detective?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Ah, in that case you are also a detective.’

  ‘Well, no actually, that’s not how I would describe myself . . .’ Viv wondered how best she should describe herself but was rescued by Sholto and Mac approaching. Pamela put on her best hostess’s face and said, ‘Excuse me, I must nip in here.’

  Sholto said, ‘Follow me.’

  And they duly trotted behind him down the corridor where there were rooms with dog beds and bowls. They shot past those and continued into the heart of the house eventually coming to the bottom of a grand staircase.

  Sholto glanced upstairs. ‘Yes I think it’s worth going to my study. No one will bother us there.’

  The room was small with a neat desk, always a worry, and a couple of big chairs at either side of a fireplace. Sholto indicated for them to take a seat. She and Mac did as invited and Sholto perched on the edge of his desk. ‘This is a delicate subject for me and I’m sure I can be guaranteed your discretion.’

  Not a question, a statement of fact. His innate sense of entitlement not something he’d question. Of course he could command their confidence. He was who he was. Their silence must have caught him off guard because he said, ‘Well can I rely on your discretion?’

  Mac said, ‘It depends on what you’d like us to be discreet about. If you murdered someone or committed any crime then . . .’

  Sholto blew out a breath. ‘Sure I get that. Okay. I have a friend who has gone missing and I’d like you to find him. I last heard from him six days ago and I’m going out of my wits with worry about where he is.’

  Viv immediately caught the meaning of this last statement but Mac didn’t and said, ‘But surely if he’s an adult he could have just taken himself off for a break or gone away for work?’

  Sholto ran his hands through his hair. ‘No, you don’t get it.’

  Viv interrupted, ‘No, but I do. So he’s rather more than a friend?’

  Sholto’s shoulders slumped. ‘Of course he is. We are in contact lots of times every day. This isn’t the kind of thing he’d do. Look.’ He pulled out his phone and brought up a text message. ‘This was our last correspondence. Those are not the words of someone who is about to take off.’

  The text said, ‘See you at the club. I’ll order a bottle of bubbly to celebrate.’

  Sholto had texted back in the affirmative, ‘Yes please, can’t wait.’

  Mac said, ‘So what’s with the drinks to celebrate your engagement to Pamela Hamilton?’

  ‘Pammy and I have been friends since the beginning of time. She knows we could never be husband and wife in a traditional sense. Besides she has her own life.’ He stressed the word ‘life’.

  Viv said, ‘What does that mean? Are we talking about a charade for the sake of your families?’

  Sholto ran his hands through his hair again. ‘I suppose that’s how outsiders will see it. But Pammy and I do love each other, just not in the biblical sense.’

  Viv had seen how territorial Pamela had been in hustling Sholto away to meet someone. Maybe she was an exceptional actor, but Viv sensed that Sholto was perhaps blinded by his own needs and hadn’t grasped Pamela’s real devotion.

  Mac said, ‘What’s at stake if the marriage doesn’t go ahead?’

  Sholto snorted, ‘Originally there wasn’t going to be a marriage. An engagement was just to keep Pammy happy. She wants her family off her back. She’s sick of the pressure for us to get hitched.’

  Viv said, ‘I’m guessing that her parents don’t know about your . . .’ Unsure how to end her question she continued, ‘If they’ve k
nown you all your life, don’t you think they will have guessed?’

  He looked shocked and rearranged his posture on the desk. ‘Of course they don’t know. Why would they? All of my . . . other life is in Edinburgh. I have a small mews flat there and my club.’

  Mac said, ‘Just because you want it, doesn’t make it thus. But never mind that for now. What information can you give us about your friend?’

  ‘His name is David, David Fitzroy. He’s a lawyer in Edinburgh. We met at the club.’

  ‘Which is where?’

  ‘Oh, the Arts Club in the West End.’

  Mac said, ‘And the firm he works for? Where he lives? His family?’

  ‘He’s a junior partner with Fitzroy and Maclean. His office is in Stafford Street. He lives in a flat in Grosvenor Crescent. His family are in Kirkcaldy but he doesn’t see them.’

  Mac made notes on his phone. ‘You can’t be sure that he hasn’t just gone off for a break?’

  Sholto’s head snapped up. ‘Of course I can. He just wouldn’t take off without telling me.’ He stretched over his desk and lifted a set of keys. Here, these are for his flat and mine.’

  Mac took the bunch. ‘So you’d like us to check both of the flats?’

  Viv said, ‘Surely you could do that yourself?’

  His eyes welled up. ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘Of what?’ Viv and Mac said in unison. Mac nodded for her to continue. She said, ‘What is there to be scared of? I mean are you in danger? Was he in danger? Have you got something else you ought to let us know?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. It’s just a feeling. Things said.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Every time I go over certain conversations I think there’s more to them. An underlying meaning that I didn’t quite grasp at the time and now don’t know if I’m being paranoid or if there really was something in the innuendo.’

  Mac shook the keys. ‘This could be a wild goose chase but we’ll take a look.’

  ‘I’ll pay.’

  Mac said, ‘Viv is a private investigator. She has her own rates and you can discuss them with her.’

  Viv handed him a card. ‘Take a look at my new website. It’s self-explanatory. Mac can make a start on a missing person report.’

  Sholto interrupted, ‘Does it have to be official?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t you want it to be official? If he is, as you say missing, then surely you’d like all the resources available?’

  Sholto interrupted again, ‘I would, but it’s messy. I . . .’

  ‘What is it that you are not telling us?’

  ‘The press have been sniffing around.’

  Mac said, ‘And your point is?’

  ‘They are like baying dogs wherever I go. And if I’m not with Pamela they scream all sorts of speculative nonsense at me.’

  Viv raised her eyebrows out of range of his eyes but so that Mac could see. ‘I wouldn’t worry about the press - they’ll soon find someone else to hound.’

  Sholto shook his head. ‘You think?’

  They all made their way back downstairs where a large glamorous older woman in a wheelchair waited to speak to Sholto. She reached out a gnarled bejewelled hand and theatrically grasped her son. ‘Darling! Where have you been? Everyone’s looking for you?’

  There was no evidence of anyone looking for him. The reception seemed to be in full swing, with even more noise coming from the gathering than there had been before. Alcohol loosening tongues. Viv wondered if it was worth having another round of the room but couldn’t face it.

  Sholto said, ‘Let me introduce you to Moth.’ He coughed, ‘My mother the Countess of Menteith.’

  The woman stretched her hand toward Mac as if she expected him to kiss it. He gave it a brief shake before stepping aside and leaving space for Viv to do the same. The handshake wasn’t from a frail person. There was more to ‘Moth’ than met the eye. Sholto didn’t tell her who they were or why they were there, only said their first names, to which his mother raised her eyebrows as if appalled by his informality. Before anything more was said the countess wheeled herself towards a door, which led to a corridor that mirrored the one that they been down with Sholto. Viv wondered if they lived in separate wings of the house. A house that size certainly lent itself to distance but that didn’t always mean privacy. Once she was out of sight Sholto, who’d been holding his shoulders up round his ears, dropped them and said, ‘I can’t trust anyone.’

  ‘What, not even your mum?’ Viv grimaced. ‘Surely she’d want the best for you?’

  ‘Ah, that’s where most people go wrong. In families like ours it’s all about the dynasty. The estate must remain intact come what may. Bloody nightmare.’ He rubbed his hands through his hair. ‘Anyway too much information for one meeting, don’t you think?’

  Viv bristled. ‘We can never have enough info if you really want our help. Take a look at my details and let me know if you agree my terms.’ She was chilly towards him. Not a fan of the cavalier attitudes of the rich. Maybe he could find another discreet detective to do his work.

  Mac said, ‘Meantime, I’ll file a missing person report.’

  Sholto nodded, although he didn’t look convinced that he’d done the right thing.

  Once back inside the car Mac said, ‘I love my mum.’

  Viv burst out laughing. ‘I know. Imagine that being your source of warmth and affection. She made my mum look like Huggie Bear.’

  They laughed until they’d almost reached the end of the drive when Viv shouted, ‘Watch out!’ A young child in a red coat, caught in the headlights, bolted across the ribbon of tarmac into the bushes. ‘Did you see her?’

  ‘Yes. What is she doing out here in the dark?’ Mac pulled up and they ran back to see if she was okay but couldn’t locate her. A scrabble into the shrubbery revealed her and a woman crouched in a huddle. The woman’s face was swollen and bloodied. She gripped onto a sleeping baby in her arms. Viv touched Mac’s arm. He moved aside. The woman’s eyes were flicking from side to side as if she was expecting to see someone else, someone she was terrified of.

  Viv said, ‘Let me help you up.’ She stretched out her hand but the woman shrank back, then struggled to her feet. ‘I’ll manage. I have to get to the main road.’

  Mac said, ‘We can take you. Come on, let’s get you into the car.’

  The woman glanced from Mac to Viv and back again as if weighing up the risk of getting into a car with total strangers. She nodded. ‘Okay.’ The little girl held onto her mum’s coat and they followed Mac to the car. Viv helped them into the back and they took off towards the village. All the time the woman was looking behind to check that no one had seen them.

  Viv said, ‘We can take you to wherever you need to go.’

  The little girl said, ‘Daddy hit mummy. And we’re going to my auntie’s.’

  ‘So where does your auntie live then?’

  The girl looked at her mum then said, ‘Near a castle.’

  Viv said, ‘Ah but there are lots of castles in Scotland so which one is it?’

  The mother said, ‘Doune. She lives in Doune, on Castle Road.’

  Mac said, ‘No problem we can take you there. We’re on our way to Doune anyway.’

  Viv glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw the extent of the damage to the woman’s face. Viv clenched her jaw. There was something very wrong with the contrast between the woman and the grandeur of the house all lit up like a fairy tale castle behind her.

  ‘You might need a couple of stitches at the side of that eye.’

  Tears began to roll down the little girl’s cheeks. Her mum hugged her tight and reassured her. ‘It’ll be okay when we get to Auntie Joan’s. She knows how to sort these things. She’s a nurse, remember.’

  The little girl wiped her face with her sleeve. ‘Like the last time?’

  God love them. There was nothing that could be hidden from a child.

  The mother said pointedly, ‘Yes, Lisa. Like the last t
ime.’ She caught Viv’s eye in the mirror and held her gaze. Viv put her hand against her gut as it clenched at the idea of the woman going back. She hadn’t known many women who’d been abused by partners, but those that she had always managed to convince themselves that if it hadn’t been for something that they’d said or done or not said or not done then their otherwise loving partner wouldn’t have lashed out. And that’s why so many of them go back, that, and not having anywhere else to go, or no money to keep the children. It was only a few minutes’ drive but the woman kept looking behind.

  Viv became more agitated. ‘Will your sister definitely be there?’

  The woman shook her head. ‘I don’t know her shifts. If she isn’t at home . . .’

  ‘You can come with me. I have a place just on the other side of the Ardoch Burn. You can stay there until she gets back.’

  The little girl said, ‘Can we Mummy? Please, can we?’

  The mother said, ‘Well see if Auntie Joan’s in first then we’ll decide.’ As Mac turned into Castle Road the woman slid down in the back and pulled the children with her. ‘Oh God. Don’t stop, please don’t. His Land Rover’s there, he must be about.’

  Mac didn’t even falter. He kept moving smoothly as if he had intended to go left into the street that used to lead to the vet’s surgery.

  ‘How did he get here without you seeing him?’

  ‘There are different ways to get out of the estate. In the Land Rover he can use any one, even the one that relies on him crossing a ford.’

  Mac parked in the now disused car park, switched the engine off and turned in his seat. ‘You might as well know, I’m a police officer and I think that it’s worth reporting that.’ He nodded to her now crusting bloodied face. ‘We can help.’

  The woman’s eyes welled up. She looked at Viv. ‘I’ll come with you for now until my sister comes home.’

  Viv nodded to the little girl. ‘Well, Lisa, it looks as if we are going on an adventure.’

  They waited for a few more minutes then, with the woman and her children crouched down in the back again, they drove past her sister’s house, which had one light on in a downstairs room. No one was about but the Land Rover was still there.