No Stranger to Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 1 (38 page)

Releasing the rein, Zoe walked to the door and opened it, stepping into a bedroom many times the size of her own at Keeper’s Cottage. An intricately-carved four-poster bed leaned against the nearest wall with matching bedside cabinets. An old-fashioned china pitcher and bowl sat on one cabinet, a clock radio on the other.

Looking across the room, she realised her mistake. It could not have been Peter she had seen earlier, driving his car away from Larimer Hall.

He stood at the far end of the room in front of a picture window, his back to her. He was on tiptoe, his whole body stretched to its limit, due to the black leather cuff circling his left wrist and connected to a hook in the ceiling. Red welts crisscrossed his buttocks and upper thighs, some of them oozing blood. His shoulders juddered.

The noise which had brought Zoe to this room was whimpering.

‘Oh my God, what has he done to you?’

Zoe rushed forward. And stopped as Peter slowly turned to face her.

Chapter 51

Peter glared at Zoe and continued to stroke his erection.

She took a step back. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought – ‘

What the hell had she thought? Not this
. She tried to drag her eyes from Peter’s naked body and its piercings. Silver hoops through his scrotum, his penis. Smaller ones through his nipples, connected by a matching chain.

With an exasperated sigh, Peter reached up to release his wrist. ‘You women are all the same. Why can’t you just leave us alone?’

‘I was looking for Neil.’

‘And found me instead. Pleased, are you, now you know our little secret?’

Our
secret? Zoe recalled joking with Neil that his brother spoke sometimes as though they were an old married couple. She felt sick. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I didn’t do this to myself.’ Peter half-turned his body so she could see the whip marks again.

She looked away.

‘Can’t bear to see what he does to me? I warned you. But did you listen? Oh no. You kept leading him on, making him want you.’

‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘It never is.’

Peter took a step forward. Zoe moved back.

‘I don’t believe Neil has anything to do with . . . this.’

‘Yes you do. And because you’re such a fine, upstanding member of the community, when you tell people they’ll believe you.’

‘I’m not going to say anything.’

‘Everyone knew Chrissie Baird hated us. They might not have taken any notice of her. But you’re a bigger problem.’

A band tightened around Zoe’s chest, like it did the moment she discovered the police suspected her of murdering Russell. ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘You killed Chrissie.’

Peter charged at her. She turned and fled into the dressing room.

Stop running. Lock the door.

Big mistake.

Peter grunted in pain as she crushed his bare foot between the door and frame. He withdrew the foot but kept on pushing, preventing Zoe from shutting the door, let alone locking it.

She gave one last shove. Made for the landing.
Almost there
.

Her head snapped back. She almost lost her footing, but was held upright by the noose around her neck.

She plucked at the stiff, unyielding leather.

Peter pulled it tighter.

Zoe tried to bend forward, struggled to escape. Then she remembered something she learned at a self-defence class years ago.

Lean into your attacker.

Loosen the pressure.

Kick behind you.

Peter swore as her heel struck his knee. But the pressure around her throat continued to increase. The more she kicked, the tighter he squeezed.

She felt faint, saw stars.

He dragged her back into the bedroom and threw her face-down across the four-poster. The cover smelt damp, mildewy.

The rein loosened. Zoe sucked in air as Peter turned her over and straddled her. His nakedness should have made him the vulnerable one, but it didn’t.

He crossed the rein beneath her chin. And started to tighten it again.

Chapter 52

Zoe clawed at her neck, trying to squeeze even one finger under the rein and relieve the pressure on her windpipe. With her other hand, she pulled, punched and scratched at Peter’s arm and shoulder. He was so engrossed in killing her that he failed to respond.

In desperation, she grasped the chain connecting the silver hoops through his nipples and wrenched it away from his chest.

Peter gave a roar of anger and pain as both hoops pulled at his flesh then tore themselves free of it. Continuing to hold the leather rein with his left hand, he raised his right hand and struck Zoe across the face. When she tried to shield herself from further blows, he seized her arm and slammed it against the corner of the bedside cabinet.

The wrist had to be fractured, although she felt no pain. But when she tried to make a fist, her hand refused to cooperate, flailing uselessly. Then it knocked against something cool and smooth.

On the third attempt, Zoe managed to slide her fingers through the handle. Summoning all the strength she had left, she raised the jug and swung it against the side of Peter’s head.

The jug smashed. Peter’s head barely moved. Zoe was left clutching a small china handle.

‘Is that the best you can do?’ he said scornfully. The pressure on her throat increased again.

She thrust the jagged end of the handle against Peter’s neck. His expression shifted from contempt to bewilderment as blood spurted from him, some of it hitting Zoe across the face.

The rein loosened around her neck and she took a deep breath.

Peter toppled forward.

It was only when he had lain heavy and unmoving across her chest for several minutes that she felt safe enough to close her eyes.

She dreamt she was having an asthma attack, gasping for air, abandoned somewhere with the only inhaler kept in a room she was too scared to enter.

‘Fuck oh fuck oh fuck!’

A weight lifted from Zoe’s chest and her breathing suddenly eased. When the rein around her neck moved, she lifted her improvised weapon and stabbed at the air. A hand encircled her wrist, causing her to cry out. Fear no long anaesthetised her from pain.

She opened her eyes. Saw Neil’s face.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, taking the sharp piece of china from her.

‘He tried to kill me,’ she said. It hurt to speak. She swallowed. That hurt too.

Neil sat down, cradled her in his arms and wiped her face with a handkerchief. Now her head was raised she could see Peter lying on the floor, partly covered by a small rug. She must have cried out again, because Neil pulled her against his chest and murmured, ‘Don’t look.’

Zoe closed her eyes; she so wanted to fall asleep.

‘You’re safe now.’

She started to shiver and tried to push him away. ‘I’m going into shock. You must get help.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘Please. I’m so cold.’

He released her, slid off the bed and left the room. Just when she thought he was never coming back, he did, carrying a coverless duvet.

‘This’ll help.’ He cocooned her in the duvet. She instantly felt warmer but still could not stop shivering.

‘You have to ring for an ambulance.’

‘Not yet.’

‘Peter killed Chrissie.’

‘I know. I was there.’

‘Why didn’t you stop him?’

Silence.

‘Tell me what happened. Please.’

Neil shook his head.

‘I know it was because of . . .’ Zoe struggled to find the words. ‘I saw what you did to him.’

‘Only because he wanted me to. You don’t think it was a sexual thing for me, do you?’ Neil looked appalled, endlessly running a hand over his bald head. ‘Oh Zoe, I only did it to stop him going elsewhere and putting himself at the mercy of unscrupulous people. He was blackmailed once. They bled him dry. I couldn’t let that happen again.’

She really wanted to believe him. ‘How did Chrissie find out?’

‘She turned up at the house and got in through the back door. I don’t know how – we always keep it locked.’

Tom’s words came back to Zoe:
Things old folk like to hang on to
. ‘Jean’s mum used to work here. She’d kept a key and Chrissie took it.’

Neil nodded absent-mindedly, too caught up in his recollection of that day to heed what she was saying. ‘She had that stupid tray of poppies hanging round her neck. As if it would give her an excuse if we caught her snooping.’

‘Did she come up here?’

‘No. She went through to the workshop. I don’t know what she expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t Pete bent over the desk and me flogging him with his belt.’

The image burned into Zoe’s brain as if she had been there herself. She suddenly felt light-headed and struggled to release a hand from the clutches of the duvet in order to support her head.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Feeling faint.’

Again Neil left the room, this time returning with a tumbler of water. He held it to her mouth while she took a few sips. When she was almost certain she would not black out, she told him to go on.

‘Do you really want to hear this?’

No, but she had to
. ‘Yes.’

‘We didn’t even know Chrissie was there until she started to yell at us. How she was glad Alice hadn’t gone out with me. How she’d enjoy telling everyone what perverts we were. How we’d be driven out of Westerlea.

‘I didn’t know what to do. Pete shouted back, told her she was a nosey old woman and had no right coming into our home uninvited. Then he rushed at her and she ran out into the hall. He grabbed her legs and when she fell forward, she hit her head on the stone steps. It was an accident. He didn’t mean to kill her.’

‘Why are you covering up for him?’

‘I’m not. That’s what happened.’

‘Neil, Chrissie didn’t die from hitting her head on a step.’

‘I was there. I saw her.’

‘The post mortem showed she was strangled. Mather told me.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Peter lied to you.’

‘Why would he do that?’

‘What happened after she fell?’

‘Those stupid poppies were strewn all over the place. Pete went round picking them up and told me to . . . ‘

Neil groaned.

‘What did he tell you to do?’

‘He told me to go and fetch an old carpet from upstairs to wrap her in. Oh fuck. She wasn’t dead, was she? She woke up while I was gone and he finished her off.’

Zoe put a hand to her throat. She felt again the pressure on her windpipe, saw again the look of concentration on Peter’s face as he squeezed the life out of her.

Neil said, ‘I’m sorry, Zoe’. He gently pushed away a strand of hair that had fallen over her face. ‘The last thing I wanted was you to be hurt. My feelings for you were giving me the courage to break free from him.’

‘It was never going to be that easy.’

‘I hoped it would. That night, after we put Chrissie in the bonfire, I told him I wouldn’t pander to him any more.’

‘Did you tell him how you felt about me?’

‘Not then. But he tackled me on the way home from coffee with you and Kate after the Guy Fawkes party. I saw no reason to deny it.’

‘That’s why he tampered with my car, wasn’t it?’

Anger flared briefly in Neil’s face. ‘He said he didn’t, but I always know when he’s lying.’

‘He told me I should stop seeing you. I didn’t realise it was a threat. Then I got home earlier today and found my window smashed.’

‘We had another row this morning and he stormed off. He must have done it then. I expected him to come home and apologise – that’s what usually happened – but instead he was hyper. He threatened to tell you everything, bring you up here and show you his things to prove it, unless I beat him again. So I did. Afterwards I felt so disgusted with myself for giving in to him, I had to get away.’

‘When Peter’s car left, I was in the tower room, too high up to see the driver. I didn’t realise it was you.’

‘I grabbed his keys on the way out by mistake. It was easier to take his car than go back in for mine.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘Where do you think? To the cottage to find you. Instead I found that smashed window. I made sure you weren’t inside, then came back here to tell Pete I was going to wind up the business and start over somewhere else. Without him.’

Zoe yawned, fighting to stay awake. Which made no sense, given how scared she felt. ‘What about Jimmy? Why did Peter kill him?’

‘He had nothing to do with that.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Why would he want to harm Jimmy? It must have been an accident.’

An accident. No one killed Jimmy. That was good . . .

Zoe yawned again. Her body was shutting down. ‘Neil, please, you have to call for help.’

‘Not yet.’

‘What are you waiting for?’

Neil got up and walked out again. He could only have gone as far as the dressing room because he returned almost immediately, holding a pair of metal handcuffs.

Desperate to summon up enough strength to get away, Zoe tried swinging her legs over the side of the bed. They were too weak even to kick off the duvet.

‘Stay still. I’m not going to hurt you.’ Neil lifted her hand, kissed it, then closed a cuff around her uninjured wrist. He secured the other cuff to one of the bedposts, then sat back down beside her. ‘We need to get our story straight.’

‘What story?’

‘You must tell them that Pete attacked you and I killed him to save you.’

‘But I killed him in self-defence. Look, I’m covered in his blood.’

‘Please, Zoe, do what I say for once.’

‘What happened isn’t your fault.’

‘Yes it is. I’m the eldest. I should have stopped it.’

‘They won’t believe me.’

‘Of course they will. You’d have no reason to lie.’

Zoe tugged feebly at the handcuff attaching her to the bed. ‘Why have you put me in this?’

‘To make it more convincing. I don’t want there to be any doubt that you’re not to blame.’