Chapter 12
Apparently, there was no point in investigating Mrs Langford’s death until the forensic report came back.
That was what Sergeant Brodie had told Emma.
At least he hadn’t taken issue with her calling in the forensic team.
After the conversation with PC Robertson, she’d been half expecting some push-back.
While her afternoon was spent chasing a victim statement on a domestic assault, taking a new report about bogus workmen and finishing the paperwork on a burglary, her mind was never far from the Langford case.
Only when the office had thinned out and she’d watched Sergeant Brodie leave for the day did she finally open the Langford file.
The morning’s notes and incident log stared back at her.
She read through everything twice, then sighed when her eyes went blurry.
Rubbing at her eyelids, she forced herself to call it a day before she gave herself another migraine.
Twenty minutes later she was sprawled on the couch in her cosy semi-detached.
The house sat far enough away from the centre of North Berwick to be quiet, but close enough for her to still be able to walk into town for a drink when she felt like it.
She’d bought it five years earlier after a long stretch of careful saving.
It wasn’t flashy, but it was home and, along with her job, was one of her proudest achievements.
Craving a cuppa, she tried to find the energy to move from the couch. Food would be good too.
She’d give herself five minutes of enjoying the silence, then she’d rustle up some dinner. Lying in silence felt fairly blissful for about sixty seconds. Then she began to wonder . . .
Usually, she had to listen to her elderly neighbour’s TV through the thin wall between their homes. If it wasn’t the TV, it’d be the radio or the sound of him coughing so violently that she felt the vibrations.
Sitting up, she stared at the wall, listening intently.
“Make a sound, Tam,” she muttered.
Eventually, she couldn’t take it any longer. The noise of the neighbour could drive her crazy, but spending the evening wondering if he was dead in his chair was even more damaging for her sanity.
She used the spare key to open his front door, knowing there was little use in pressing the bell – he either wouldn’t hear it or would ignore it.
“Tam!” she shouted. “You alive?”
“I bloody hope so.” His gruff voice drifted from the living room. “If this is the afterlife, it’s a huge disappointment.”
She rolled her eyes and went in search of him. “Were you asleep?” she asked, smiling at the wrinkled old man in the armchair. When Emma had moved in next door to him, he’d had a lot more meat on his bones and had carried himself with ease and purpose.
He’d been one of those salt-of-the-earth types who’d always been willing to help out his neighbours – clearing snow, or sweeping out her gutters when he’d been doing his own.
It was amazing what five years – and the loss of a wife – could do to a man.
Now, the sight of him squeezed at Emma’s heart. He was fading away into his armchair.
“Just a quick nap,” he said, shifting in the chair and looking pained as he did so.
“Have you moved today?” she asked, suddenly annoyed at him for giving up on life.
“Aye.” He blinked a few times. “I’d be sitting in a puddle of piss otherwise, wouldn’t I?”
“Have you been farther than the bathroom? And have you eaten?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a nag?”
“You.” She pulled up the footstool and sat directly in front of him. “If you’d look after yourself better, I wouldn’t need to nag you.” Touching the back of his hand, she frowned. “You either need to move more, or turn the heating up.”
“Costs too much,” he grumbled.
She covered his legs with a blanket and moved to the kitchen. “I’m making you a cuppa.” She turned at the doorway. “Have you had dinner?”
“Yes,” he said, with the tone of a moody teenager.
“What did you have?”
“Soup. That okay with you?”
She nodded and went to the kitchen. When she returned it was with both a hot drink and his pill box. “You didn’t take your medication this afternoon,” she said, passing it to him.
Dutifully, he tipped the tablets into his palm and swallowed them dry.
“Got you something,” he said, pulling a battered novel from beside his leg. “I’ve vetted it – there are three murders so it should satisfy your bloodlust.”
She chuckled and turned the dog-eared paperback over to skim the description. Not that there was a lot of point since they were all pretty much the same.
To start with she’d asked Tam to hunt down novels in the local charity shops as a way to get him out of the house.
She’d told him detective novels were her favourite.
A complete lie. She hadn’t been much of a reader at all and couldn’t have said what genre she enjoyed. Detective books seemed fitting, though.
Now, she was addicted. The more formulaic the better, for reasons she didn’t like to dwell on too much – probably something to do with finding comfort in the predictable.
If there were errors in the police procedure, that was a bonus too.
It made her feel superior. Which was a bit daft really.
It was hardly an achievement that she knew more about it than someone who made up stories for a living.
“Thanks, Tam,” she said.
“I’ll warn you.” His lips hinted at a smile. “There’s a bit of romance sprinkled in, but it’s easy to skim over.”
“I’ll cope,” she said, then glanced around. The place was tidy enough, so at least she didn’t have to worry about that. Maybe he wasn’t doing so badly after all.
Now she knew he was well, she could go and relax for the evening. But her heart tugged at the thought of leaving Tam alone.
“Game of rummy?” she asked, clocking the cards which sat on the table in the same spot she’d left them after the last time they’d played.
“Haven’t you got better things to do?” he muttered, but the flash of relief in his eyes made it clear he was happy at the prospect of her hanging around.
“I’m not going easy on you this time,” she said, reaching for the pack and pulling the side table over.
A few rounds of rummy, then she’d go and find some food. Or just take herself to bed. She suspected that was all she’d be able to manage.
When Cal and Skye left, Jamie popped the top off another beer and opened the back door to look up at the midnight blue sky dotted with stars. A breeze blew up the beach, carrying the scent of seaweed, while the gentle rush of the waves hit his ears.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked the cat that purred beside his legs.
“You can leave if you want.” He pointed into the garden but the cat stayed put.
At least he didn’t have to worry about having the door open and losing Misty.
He took a seat at the small table, thinking once again that it was a shame the garden was so overgrown.
The cat hopped up onto his lap. “Isn’t someone missing you?” he asked, stroking its head.
And was anyone missing him, he wondered. He checked his phone. He’d had no messages from Violet. That was unusual. He’d tried calling her when he’d been out looking for Misty but she hadn’t called back.
He hit Dial on her number and waited a moment before she answered.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a rush. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve been really busy. I meant to call you back earlier.”
“It’s fine. You sound stressed, though. Everything okay?”
“Work was busy. Then Daniel called me in a panic this afternoon.”
“How come?”
“He and Sarah had a big row. Something about the wedding cake, but it all blew up. Daniel was freaking out, so I met him for a quick drink.”
Jamie opened his mouth, then closed it again when he couldn’t figure out what to say.
“Is everything okay with them?” he asked eventually.
“Probably. I think it’s just the stress of planning a wedding that’s getting to them.”
“Right.” He shoved down the unease he felt at the thought of Violet out consoling Daniel. She was only being a good friend, and Jamie trusted her completely. He inhaled deeply. “Let’s promise not to get stressed like that when it’s us planning a wedding.”
When the silence stretched on he moved his phone from his ear to check they were still connected. “Violet?”
“Hi. I’m here. Sorry, what did you say? You cut out for a moment.”
“I said we shouldn’t get stressed when we’re planning our wedding.”
“No,” she said quietly. “Definitely not. Anyway, how’s your day been?”
He blew out a breath, trying to figure out how to answer. She made appropriate noises of shock and disbelief as he recounted the last twenty-four hours.
“Jamie, that’s terrible,” she said eventually, sounding almost tearful. “Maybe you should come home.”
He turned his nose up. “Why?”
“Someone died, Jamie!”
“Yeah, but that was just an unfortunate accident.”
“You’ve been questioned by the police! I thought a couple of months away might be good for you. I thought it might help you relax, but this sounds like the opposite. And I know you’re good at DIY, but should you really pass yourself off as a tradesman when you have no training?”
“I’m not passing myself off as anything. I did a bit of gardening and tightened some screws.”
“Are you sure you tightened them?”
“Of course I tightened them.”
“You didn’t turn them the wrong way by accident?”
A burst of humourless laughter shot out of him. “I think I know which way to turn screws.”
“I’m just worried, Jamie.”
“You don’t need to. Everything will be fine.”
“I feel as though this whole idea to go to North Berwick was a bad one. Why don’t you come home?”
“I can’t leave anyway,” he said without thinking. “Not before I find Misty.”
He had to explain about the lost cat then, and about the found cat.
“This new cat is really lovely,” he said, stroking the sleeping feline on his lap. “Follows me everywhere like a shadow.” He sucked in a dramatic breath. “Shadow’s a great name for a black cat, isn’t it?”
“Don’t give the stray cat a name,” Violet said, a warning note in her voice. “Shoo it away!” She sighed heavily. “I’m worried about you.”
He spent a few minutes trying to reassure her, but when they ended the call she still thought he’d made a massive mistake taking the house-sitting job.
After the day he’d had he should probably agree. Tilting his head back, he looked at the stars twinkling brightly, while the sound of the waves acted as the world’s most soothing white noise.
Try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to wish himself anywhere else but there.