No Stranger to Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 1 (7 page)

Zoe took a few steps back towards the window; Neil followed. Akin to a disobedient puppy, he managed to be maddening and appealing in equal measures.

‘So,’ he said, waving his arm to take in the entire room, ‘what are your plans for up here?’

Zoe outlined her ideas. They were nothing fancy – window seat, waxed floorboards, white paintwork – but Neil listened attentively and made some suggestions of his own. She realised his response to the coach house was similar to hers.

‘I never imagined owning a building this old,’ she said. ‘But now I’m beginning to understand why some people prefer them to new ones.’

‘Living on a modern estate is my idea of hell,’ Neil said. ‘This place will make a beautiful home, with all the mod cons but still keeping its character. And it’ll have a fabulous kitchen, of course.’

‘You never give up, do you?’

‘Neither in my professional or my personal life. And I never say anything I don’t mean.’

Neil’s face was uncharacteristically grave, dashing Zoe’s hopes that his behaviour on Bonfire Night had been the result of too much red wine and he would be sufficiently embarrassed not to mention the episode in her kitchen. Or, better still, that he might not even remember it.

‘I meant what I said the other night, Zoe. All of it.’

‘And my response stands too.’

‘In spite of that apparent rejection, I’m not going to apologise for how I feel, or for sharing it with you. Why should I?’ He dug into his pocket and brought out a tobacco tin and a pack of cigarette papers.

‘You can’t do that here,’ Zoe said, glad to change the subject. ‘You’ll be a fire hazard.’

‘In that case, shall we go down?’

They returned to the ground floor in silence, Neil going first then holding the ladder steady as Zoe followed. She glanced down midway, ready to scold him for enjoying the view a little too much, but found him courteously averting his gaze. He rolled a cigarette while she shut the windows and made the building secure, and lit up as soon as they reached his mud-spattered Land Rover, which was parked under the arch.

After a couple of puffs Neil said, ‘Can we talk business again, or have I blown my chances of even fitting your kitchen?’

‘I’ve already said I want you and Peter to do the work. I mean what I say too. And anyway, you come highly recommended. Kate’s mother can’t stop telling me what a wonderful job you did for them. She must have shown me inside every cupboard and drawer.’

‘Still friends then?’

‘Of course, as long as you understand that’s as far as it goes.’ Zoe reached down and attached Mac’s lead to his collar. ‘I’ll be in touch soon about choosing a design.’

‘Why don’t you come over now and have a look at some of the options?’

‘Weren’t you on your way somewhere when you stopped?’

‘Only to the shop to buy more tobacco. It’ll wait. I’m trying to cut down like you told me to.’ Neil grinned, dropping and stepping on the remains of his cigarette.

‘It’ll be getting dark soon, and I haven’t brought my car.’

‘Not a problem. If it’s too dark for you to walk home when we’ve finished I’ll give you and your funny-looking hound a lift back.’ He opened the Land Rover’s passenger door. ‘Hop in.’

Although he was too big for either of them to feel comfortable, Mac sat on Zoe’s lap for the short journey to Larimer Hall. Unable to put on her seat belt, she clung to the dog as they bounced along the pot-holed drive.

‘How long have you lived here?’ she asked Neil.

‘Nearly eight years. Incomers tend to fall into two groups. Some, like me and Pete, take to life in the Borders straightaway and stay forever. Others can’t hack it and leave not long after getting here.’

‘I hope I’ll be in the first group.’

‘Me too.’

‘Was it difficult to establish a business?’

‘We were lucky,’ Neil said. ‘We fitted a kitchen for a guy with a big shooting estate the other side of Kelso, then a friend of his saw what we’d done and offered us work too. And so it went on, until we were here so much it seemed logical to stay. If you’re good enough and you do a few jobs for the right people, your name gets known. Round here, word of-mouth is more important than an ad in the Yellow Pages or a snazzy website.’

‘Not everyone can afford a bespoke kitchen.’

‘You’d be surprised. Borders folk aren’t flash. They don’t drive around in new sports cars.’ He looked across at Zoe and winked. ‘They prefer to invest in their homes, so the first thing they do when they move house or have some spare cash is order an Aga and build a new kitchen around it. And because of the lives they lead, they usually need a separate utility room fitted out to wash their wellies, store their chicken feed and keep their dogs.’

Zoe patted Mac’s head. ‘Sorry boy, I’m not giving you your own room. You’ll have to sleep on my bed and like it.’

‘I’m sure he’s happy with that arrangement. I know I would be.’

Pulling up outside Larimer Hall saved Zoe from having to think of a suitable retort. Neil opened his door and Mac leapt across his lap, out of the vehicle and up the steps.

‘He’s in a hurry. Must realise his mate Pete lives here too,’ Neil said.

‘They got on very well the other night.’ Zoe tensed, fearing he might pounce on this opportunity to raise again what happened between them. However, like when she climbed down the ladder, he proved unpredictable. ‘Pete loves animals and they love him.’ He pushed the front door open. ‘After you.’

Mac charged inside, while his owner looked on helplessly. ‘You’d never believe we went to obedience classes. I hope he doesn’t give Peter too much of a shock when he finds him.’

‘It’s all right, he’ll know we’re here. A bell rings in the workshop when the front door opens.’

‘You’re very security-conscious.’

‘A house of this size, if someone wandered in it could be days before we found them. We keep the back door locked unless we’re loading stuff into the van.’

After mounting a further set of steps, Zoe found herself in the largest hall she had ever seen in a house that did not charge for admission. Eight doors led off it, and a balustraded gallery looked down from the first floor. Topping all this was an elaborate stained-glass skylight which took up most of the vaulted ceiling.

‘Wow,’ she said. ‘Business must be good.’

Neil laughed. ‘It’s not ours. We rent it off a bloke who lives abroad. He charges us next to nothing because we’re gradually renovating it for him.’

‘Does it need a lot of work?’

‘Nothing structural. We’re mainly restoring fireplaces and patching up floors. See that?’ Neil pointed to an ornate wooden fireplace. ‘One of the philistines who used to live here covered it in white gloss. Took months to get that muck off.’ He started to cross the hall. ‘I’ll give you a proper tour when we have more time. Let’s find Pete and the dog.’

He opened a door on the right, revealing a flight of uncarpeted stairs. The rubber soles of Zoe’s boots squeaked on the bare stone as she and Neil descended. She stopped to peer out of a narrow window; the grounds must have been impressive fifty years ago, but now it was impossible to tell where the lawns stopped and the flower beds started.

‘You’ve yet to tackle the garden, I see.’

‘That’s someone else’s responsibility. We don’t do green.’ Neil opened a door at the bottom of the stairs and warm air came out to meet them. The source of this was apparent as soon as Zoe entered the kitchen: an Aga so big it must have been custom built. On the floor in front of it was a basket containing two heaps of fur, one black, one ginger.

‘You didn’t tell me you had cats.’ Zoe walked over to the basket.

‘In a house as big and old as this you need them to keep the mice down. As you can see, those two are rushed off their feet.’

‘What are their names?’

The cats stirred and looked up at Zoe. She crouched down and started to stroke them, one with each hand.

‘Meet Bert and Tom.’ Neil shrugged at Zoe’s expression of disbelief. ‘It’s easy to shout when you want them to come in.’

‘Not that we have to do that because they never go far from their bed except to eat,’ added a voice from the other end of the room. Zoe looked round to see Peter, accompanied by Mac. The dog wagged his tail on seeing his owner but appeared disinclined to leave his new friend’s side.

‘Told you he’d find him, didn’t I?’ Neil said. ‘Pete, I bumped into Zoe on my way to the village and brought her back to look at some ideas for her kitchen. Is the workshop in a fit state for visitors?’

Zoe straightened up from the cats’ basket in time to see a scowl pass briefly over Peter’s face.

‘Sure.’

Neil, seemingly oblivious to his brother’s irritation, took Zoe by the arm and led her towards the door Peter had come in by. ‘Tea, Pete?’

As Zoe admired the kitchen under construction, Neil explained that two local men built the basic units while he and Peter did what he called ‘the fancy bits’, like the barley-twist carving on their current commission. Then he guided her to the desk where a set of plans lay, anchored down by a black leather belt. He slid the belt into a drawer, and described the process by which he had designed the kitchen’s layout.

Peter appeared, carrying a tray. He walked straight past them.

‘Looks as if we’re going to the showroom,’ Neil said, running a hand over his head. Zoe noticed for the first time a small mole above his left ear.

They followed Peter up to the ground floor via a different staircase to the one they had earlier come down. The showroom contained a series of small kitchens, all in different styles, fitted with tiling and sinks and accessorised with fake loaves of bread and plastic fruit.

‘Most people don’t see the workshop,’ Neil said. ‘We usually bring them straight here. The displays took ages to put together, but they help clients decide what they want.’

‘They’re all so lovely, I don’t know how to choose between them.’ Zoe ran her hand along a marble worktop, enjoying how smooth and cool it felt.

‘That’s why I’m here,’ Neil said. ‘If you’re swithering, I know the questions to ask to help you decide.’

‘It’s strange hearing someone with a Cornish accent use a Scottish expression.’

‘Swither’s a great word, everybody should use it.’

They reached a pair of sofas on either side of a low table where Peter had left the tray. Neil invited Zoe to sit down then took the sofa opposite her. This time Mac stayed with them, leaning against his owner’s leg, his eyes fixed on a plate of shortbread.

‘Most English people think Scots is just an accent,’ Neil continued. ‘An eccentric way of pronouncing the same words. Stay here any length of time, you’ll learn lots of new words and expressions and wonder how you ever managed without them.’

The next hour passed quickly, as Neil helped Zoe decide what features she wanted in her kitchen and made some rough sketches of possible layouts. She was pleasantly surprised by his ability to be serious for once and impressed by his professionalism.

‘You don’t have to commit yourself today. Think about it, and when I’ve measured up and drawn a proper plan, you can come back and have another look.’ He tucked his pencil behind an ear and grinned. ‘That’s business taken care of, so now let’s move on to pleasure. How about a glass of wine? I’ve got a bottle of Bordeaux I think you’ll enjoy.’

‘I can’t. I need to get home.’

‘What’s the rush?’ Neil asked, feeding Mac a piece of shortbread.

Zoe shook her head in irritation. He was always challenging her. ‘There’s no rush. I just want you to take us back to the cottage, like you said you would.’

Chapter 8

For once, Mac did not hear the front door open. He was too fixated on the spoonfuls of porridge veined with melting brown sugar moving between Zoe’s breakfast bowl and her mouth.

Kate burst into the kitchen. ‘Surprise!’ The collar and cuffs of a cream blouse decorated with splashy pink flowers poked out from beneath her black sweater. ‘I took the bairns into school this morning because they missed the bus, so I thought I’d drop by and see how you are.’

‘You’re lucky to find me home,’ Zoe said. ‘I wouldn’t be here if my work schedule hadn’t been changed at the last minute.’ She told Kate about her latest clash with Walter.

‘He seems to really have it in for you. What have you done to upset him?’

‘I wish I knew.’

Zoe’s half-eaten breakfast sat on the table. ‘Ugh, is that sugar in your porridge?’ Kate said. ‘Don’t let Mum catch you eating it like that. She’ll have you repatriated to England.’

‘I have tried eating it with salt, honestly.’ Grimacing at the memory, Zoe put her bowl down to Mac.

‘I forgive you, though only because you ate the haggis I served up, despite obviously hating it.’

‘You didn’t help by reading out its ingredients. Have you got time for a coffee?’

‘Only if I’m not keeping you back from something important.’

‘All I have planned for this morning is tracking down Gerry Hall and giving him another bollocking.’

‘Things still not moving very fast at the coach house?’

‘At a standstill would be more accurate. They haven’t even –’

Mac started barking. ‘Someone’s at the door,’ Zoe said.

‘I hope it’s not Erskine Mather again,’ Kate said. ‘He’ll think I’ve moved in.’

Zoe hoped that too, for a different reason. However, she managed a polite smile when she saw the policeman standing on her front step. He must have recognised Kate’s car this time, because he showed no surprise at her presence when Zoe led him into the kitchen.

‘Hi, Erskine.’

‘Hello again, Kate.’ Mather folded his coat and draped it over the back of the wooden chair before sitting down.

‘Do you want some coffee?’ Zoe asked. Without waiting for his response, Kate poured a mugful and slid it along the table. She offered him neither milk nor sugar, and he did not ask for them.

‘Would you prefer to speak to Zoe alone? I can go into the sitting room.’ Despite this offer, Kate repositioned herself so she could see Mather’s face as well as Zoe’s.

‘This is Doctor Moreland’s home. I’m happy for you to stay if she is. I was just passing and remembered a few more questions I needed to ask her.’