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    Unsafe Distances
    Unsafe Distances
    Unsafe Distances
    Ebook264 pages7 hours

    Unsafe Distances

    By Cecilia Peartree

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    About this ebook

    This is the 21st novel in the Pitkirtly Mysteries series, set in the present day in a fictitious small town on the Fife coast, not far from Culross but definitely not based on any real place.
    When they find evidence of intruders in the Cultural Centre one night, Amaryllis, Jock McLean and Hamish enter the building, only to stumble across a body on the floor of the library. As often happens, other inhabitants of the town are drawn into the developing situation. Amaryllis has an unscheduled dip in the harbour and Giancarlo, home from America for an unspecified length of time, alternately delivers pizzas and tries to save old friends from the consequences of their actions. Meanwhile Christopher wonders if he will ever have a moment’s peace again.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCecilia Peartree
    Release dateOct 19, 2020
    ISBN9781005306472
    Unsafe Distances
    Author

    Cecilia Peartree

    Cecilia Peartree is the pen name of a writer from Edinburgh. She has dabbled in various genres so far, including science fiction and humour, but she keeps returning to a series of 'cosy' mysteries set in a small town in Fife.The first full length novel in the series, 'Crime in the Community', and the fifth 'Frozen in Crime are 'perma-free' on all outlets.The Quest series is set in the different Britain of the 1950s. The sixth novel in this series, 'Quest for a Father' was published in March 2017..As befits a cosy mystery writer, Cecilia Peartree lives in the leafy suburbs with her cats.

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      Book preview

      Unsafe Distances - Cecilia Peartree

      Unsafe Distances

      Cecilia Peartree

      Pitkirtly Mysteries 21

      Smashwords edition

      Copyright Cecilia Peartree 2020

      All rights reserved

      Cover image ©Noe Medrano | Dreamstime.com

      CONTENTS

      Chapter 1 Amaryllis goes for a walk

      Chapter 2 Locked in with Caroline

      Chapter 3 Encounter with a Harassed Father

      Chapter 4 Amaryllis on the Trail

      Chapter 5 Viewing the Damage

      Chapter 6 A Visit to the Laidlaws

      Chapter 7 Old Tricks

      Chapter 8 El Presidente in the Background

      Chapter 9 In the Black Books

      Chapter 10 Hell Hath no Fury like a Woman

      Chapter 11 The Invasion of the Family

      Chapter 12 Old Friends

      Chapter 13 A Bunch of Flowers

      Chapter 14 Unwanted Interactions

      Chapter 15 On the Beach

      Chapter 16 El Presidente Looms Again

      Chapter 17 Visiting Clark Featherhall

      Chapter 18 Mr Burton gets into Trouble

      Chapter 19 No Surrender

      Chapter 20 Hard Hats

      Chapter 21 No Escape

      Chapter 22 Collateral Damage

      Chapter 23 A Bit of Fatherly Advice

      Chapter 24 The Fugitive

      Chapter 25 On the Trail of the Polar Bear

      Chapter 26 Mollie and the Tortoise

      Chapter 27 Back from the Brink

      Chapter 28 Joining the Dots

      Chapter 29 Unwelcome Visitor

      Chapter 30 Confused, of Pitkirtly

      Chapter 31 Rescue on the Mudflats

      Chapter 32 Loose Ends

      AUTHOR’S NOTE

      Chapter 1 Amaryllis goes for a walk

      It was just like old times, and yet it wasn’t. There were other people about, and not just the sullen teenagers hanging about in groups, looking as if they were up to no good but mostly wondering how long it would be before they could reasonably go home to bed without incurring the scorn of their peers. Older people too were walking purposefully about by the harbour, perhaps determined to get their hour’s exercise in before midnight in case they contravened some government edict.

      Amaryllis skulked in the shadows as best she could, choosing her moment to slide from the road that ran past the harbour into the wynd that led up to the High Street. There would be no-one in the wynd, she guessed. Taking an hour’s exercise did not really happen unless almost everyone in town saw you doing it, and the wynd was almost always deserted, except on those occasions when people of evil intent used it for their dark purposes.

      She didn’t feel much like grappling with the forces of evil that night, so she was content not to meet anyone else on her way up to the top of the wynd. She glanced up and down the High Street before emerging. The usual group of teenagers had moved to stand outside the fish and chip shop, currently closed until further notice. There was no-one else in the street at present. Acting on what seemed at first to be a hunch, she turned down towards the Cultural Centre.

      As she drew level with the café, also closed for the duration, she realised that it had not been a hunch at all but a distant sound, that drew her in this direction. It was the sound of Hamish barking frantically, something that could have various meanings, none of them good.

      She knew better than to break into a run, which might have attracted the wrong kind of attention, but she speeded up her pace, hurrying towards the corner by the supermarket.

      ‘Come away, Hamish!’

      Amaryllis relaxed very slightly when she heard the distinctive sound of Jock McLean trying to persuade the dog to ignore his instincts and leave the scene peacefully before anything went wrong. At least whatever had happened could not have involved Jock being run over or abducted by gangsters, falling in the water or taking part in any misadventure similar to those that had previously befallen him.

      As usual, the barking persisted.

      Coming round the corner, Amaryllis saw the dog, whose white fur showed up well under the street lights, standing just outside the front door of the Cultural Centre and trying his hardest to raise the alarm. Jock stood in the car park, alternately urging the dog to go to him and rattling the lead, presumably as another way of attracting Hamish’s attention.

      She crossed to stand as close to Jock as was permitted at present, and said, ‘What’s happened?’

      ‘He’s got a bee in his bonnet,’ said Jock, not even giving a start. Surely he couldn’t have somehow sensed her approach? ‘He probably thinks there’s a cat in there or something.’

      ‘Not a cat – look! There’s someone with a torch in the office.’

      ‘It’ll just be Christopher taking some of those letters of his home to read while he’s got the time,’ said Jock. ‘We’d better not cause a fuss. He told me he’s not even meant to go into the building at all while he’s furloughed’ He shrugged. ‘I’d better go and catch Hamish. We don’t want some busybody reporting him for barking at the wrong time.’

      ‘There’s a wrong time for barking?’

      ‘Just about any time’s the wrong time as far as some people are concerned,’ said Jock gloomily.

      ‘Are you both all right?’ said Amaryllis, although she didn’t expect an answer. Things would have to get a lot worse before Jock asked anyone for help or, worse still, for sympathy. She already knew that being locked in with Hamish for a few months wasn’t an emergency, as far as he was concerned.

      ‘Course we are!’ said Jock, starting to creep up on the dog. ‘If you circle round the other way, maybe we can corner him between us.’

      Cornering Hamish resulted in Amaryllis and Jock contravening the social distancing guidelines, but at last they had him, and Jock dragged him away from the doorway.

      ‘I’d better get him home right away before he starts up again,’ said Jock.

      ‘Don’t you want to have a look inside with me in case there’s something going on?’ enquired Amaryllis.

      ‘Inside? How are we supposed to get inside when it’s all locked up?’

      ‘Well, someone already has. Anyway, I’ve got in through the back door before. It’s not rocket science.’

      She was heading for the path round the side of the building as she spoke. As she had thought, Jock and Hamish followed her.

      ‘Wait!’ hissed Jock. ‘What if it isn’t Christopher at all? This could be dangerous. What if they’re stealing something?’

      ‘Ha – there isn’t anything worth stealing in there. A few old quilts. Some ratty old letters. I’d be surprised if there’s a computer in there that was made in the last five years.’

      ‘What else could they be doing, though?’

      ‘I don’t know. Vandalism. Graffiti. Perhaps there’s a homeless person living in there. The building’s been closed for months. It’s just asking for squatters. But we can’t just leave it without checking.’

      ‘We could call the police.’

      ‘They won’t come out for something like this. They’ve got other fish to fry.’

      ‘Mmm, fish,’ said Jock dreamily. ‘I could just fancy a fish supper right now.’

      Amaryllis heard Hamish growling as they went up to the back door, theoretically a fire exit, although its significance in the history of the Cultural Centre had gone far beyond that. The dog was evidently still convinced there was something wrong inside the building.

      ‘Perhaps we should try the Folk Museum window instead,’ said Amaryllis uneasily.

      ‘They won’t have left it open, will they?’

      ‘It’s a weak point,’ she said. ‘Don’t forget, it got broken in that last storm and they only had time for a temporary fix before all this kicked off. It’ll be a piece of cake.’

      ‘We’d have to go right back round to get to it, though,’ said Jock.

      ‘Not necessarily.’

      Amaryllis shoved one of the large wheelie-bins out of the way to reveal a narrow path between the wall of the building and the mass of indeterminate bushes that had once been scrubby little things that seemed as if they were destined to die a dusty death, stifled by overflowing rubbish and trampled by the feet of careless bin personnel, but which had suddenly sprung to life and had to be cut back every year to stop them from obstructing the fire exit.

      ‘Can we really get through there?’ said Jock doubtfully. Hamish strained at the lead, keen to investigate this unexplored territory.

      Amaryllis shrugged. ‘Depends on whether they’ve had time to cut back the brambles in the middle bit.’

      ‘You go first,’ suggested Jock, standing well back.

      It could have been worse, although she doubted whether her second-best leather jacket would ever be the same again. They were about to emerge from the slightly less vicious bushes at the other end of the path when she heard a noise. She put out an arm to stop Jock in his tracks. Hamish carried on, and bumped into her legs.

      ‘What is it now?’ muttered Jock. It was almost as if the novelty had worn off already. Not that it could be that much of a novelty. Amaryllis had dragged him into plenty of uncomfortable situations before.

      ‘Stay here,’ she breathed. ‘That means you too, Hamish’, she added. ‘They’re on the scaffolding.’

      It had taken her a minute or two to work out what the rattling sound was, but then she remembered that the builders who had started work on an upwards extension to the Cultural Centre on top of the Folk Museum hadn’t had time to remove the scaffolding before everything closed. Actually she wouldn’t have blamed the builders if they had left the country, difficult though that might be at this point.

      Was there a way into and out of the building from above? If there was, then it was about time she found it.

      Powered by her indignation about never even having suspected the existence of an alternative access point before, she moved forward, trying to squeeze silently between the poles and the building. There was another footstep somewhere above her, and more rattling as the whole structure shook. How many of them were there?

      Someone jumped to the ground not far from where she was standing, staggered and turned to look up. She shrank back against the wall, wishing she had something to put over her face. There was a mask in her pocket but she couldn’t very well fish around for it now without attracting attention. She turned her face towards the building very slowly, still trying to see what was going on out of the corner of her eye.

      Another man jumped off the ladder that led upwards to the first level of the scaffolding, stumbled and swore.

      ‘Let’s get out of here right now,’ he said.

      ‘Where is it?’

      ‘I’ve got it. Here, take that end.’

      More swearing. ‘Hey, it’s heavier than it looks.’

      Amaryllis only had a brief glimpse of the thing they carried away between them. At least it wasn’t a body, she told herself. It was something big and flat. She frowned, wondering why the shape appeared familiar.

      After a while she heard a car engine start up and accelerate away.

      How had they got into the building? There was only one way to find out She moved away from her improvised hiding place and considered the scaffolding. She might be able to get herself up at least to the first level, if only she retained half the physical strength she had had during her professional career… The two intruders didn’t appear to have damaged the ladder, however, so she didn’t need to test herself too much.

      There was only one dangerous moment on the way up, and that was when Hamish barked suddenly and she almost lost her grip.

      ‘I’ll call the ambulance now, will I?’ called Jock from below.

      ‘Just don’t let Hamish come up here,’ said Amaryllis. ‘And keep a look-out for the police.’

      There was another tricky moment when she was at the top of the scaffolding and leaned out towards the roof to investigate the tarpaulin that covered the section that she reckoned was above the Folk Museum, but after that it was all gravy. Or plain sailing, depending on whether you were an epicure or had a seagoing background.

      There was a roof-light that evidently led to an attic. She wondered if Christopher knew about this. She supposed he must have seen the plans for the extension, although perhaps he hadn’t wanted to look at them, under the circumstances. She knew it was something the Council had tried to foist on him without any consultation.

      How had anyone else known about it? Unless they were from the building company or some relevant Council department, of course.

      Amaryllis shunted that train of thought into a siding and concentrated on getting in through the window, but that proved to be too difficult even for her. It was one of those windows that fitted closely into the slope of the roof and opened outwards, with no visible catch on the outside… Had the two men gone into the building by a different route – the hastily repaired Folk Museum window, for instance – and left this way? Why should they do that?

      Frowning in puzzlement, she peered over the edge of the scaffolding again. Jock and Hamish were where she had left them, Jock looking back up at her anxiously and Hamish trying to pull him away into the bushes at the back of the building again.

      ‘It’s all right, I’m coming down,’ she called.

      She could tell that her words didn’t entirely reassure him, but she made an effort to be cautious as she clambered downwards, although taking her time went against the grain, and before long, though not soon enough for her liking, she was on the ground again. Hamish greeted her as if she had returned from a trek through the wastes of Antarctica.

      ‘Can we get on home now?’ enquired Jock.

      ‘In a minute. I just want to try the window.’

      She approached the Folk Museum window with caution. It seemed reasonable to pretend to herself she was checking it for security, but she doubted if that excuse would stand up in court, particularly if it ended up in pieces around her feet.

      Aha! It seemed that the damaged window frame had been temporarily secured with a padlock and chain, which had either broken or had been sawn through, for it hung uselessly between the wall of the building and the wooden frame. They should have gone for a replacement window, double-glazed and sealed, Amaryllis thought. Putting a new pane of glass in this crumbling frame had been completely pointless. But it wasn’t up to her to advise the Council on building maintenance. They would only use the current situation as an excuse to let everything go, and when this was all over they would find someone else to blame. She had better advise Christopher accordingly. It would be most unfair if he were to become a scapegoat..

      She gave the frame a tug and it wobbled and then the whole thing moved outwards, leaving a gap large enough for her to climb through.

      ‘This must be how they did it,’ she muttered to herself.

      ‘What’s that?’ said Jock, turning towards her just in time to see her clambering over the windowsill. ‘You’re not going in there, are you?’

      ‘Looks as if I am,’ she told him. ‘You and Hamish can get on home if you like.’

      He gave a long-suffering sigh and picked up the dog. ‘We’d better come too. You’ll only get up to no good on your own.’

      He handed Hamish to Amaryllis and allowed himself to be helped in through the window. Amaryllis closed it behind them as best she could.

      ‘I suppose the electricity’s still on,’ she said, and tried the nearest switch. The Folk Museum was flooded with stark light. The exhibits looked particularly forlorn under the glare. There was dust on the display case in which a selection of local shells had been arranged on a sort of fake seashore, and one of Maisie Sue’s folklore quilts had come away from the wall at one end and folded in on itself. A stepladder stood open in the middle of the room.

      ‘Look – up there,’ said Amaryllis, pointing at the ceiling. ‘It’s a trapdoor to the attic. That’ll be how they got up and out to the scaffolding.’ She tutted. ‘I can’t believe I’ve never noticed that before.’

      ‘Why should they do that, when they had the window right here?’

      ‘That’s what I was wondering. Let’s have a look round.’

      ‘I’ll let Hamish go ahead. He’ll let us know if there are any more villains lurking about the place.’

      ‘No, don’t,’ she began, but Jock had already unclipped Hamish’s lead from the ring on his collar, and the dog was off, pawing at the door to the corridor.

      She gave in and opened it for him. He dashed out, stopped in his tracks, looked suspiciously along the corridor in the direction of Christopher’s office and the front door, and then turned and headed for the library at a run.

      Amaryllis followed him, at a slightly slower pace but fast enough to stay ahead of Jock. If Hamish had indeed sensed the presence of villains in the library, she didn’t want Jock to be the one to encounter them. She would have preferred Hamish not to be the first one in there either, but there was nothing she could do about that. But perhaps the dog was only following the trail of the two from the scaffolding, she thought with uncharacteristic optimism.

      Once inside the library, she fumbled for the light switch. Why hadn’t they fixed it closer to the door? She felt her way along the wall to try and locate it.

      The location of the light switch was one reason why she fell over the obstruction on the floor. The other reason was that Hamish got under her feet and started growling and tugging at something..

      ‘Don’t come any closer,’ she said to Jock, just before struggling to her feet and switching on the lights. ‘If you could call Hamish to heel it might be a help too.’

      ‘He doesn’t come to heel unless he wants to – you know that… Oh.’

      They both stared at the thing on the floor. Hamish was still tugging at one of its shoes.

      Amaryllis walked round to the head end. There was no doubt in her mind that he was already dead. She hesitated to try and find out for sure. What if he was a victim of the virus who had died in here of natural causes? Although as far as she knew, the virus didn’t usually result in serious head injuries – unless he had banged his head on something as he fell down.

      ‘I’d better grab him,’ said Jock. ‘Mind you stay two metres away while I do that, now.’

      ‘I don’t think social distancing will be any use,’ said Amaryllis. ‘It’s too late for that.’

      ‘But what if one of us has the virus?’ said Jock, coming forward to catch Hamish. The dog was reluctant to abandon the shoe, but fortunately Jock produced a dusty-looking dog treat that partly appeased him.

      Telling herself not to be such a wimp, Amaryllis knelt down beside the man and checked his pulse, which turned out to be non-existent, although his skin wasn’t completely cold. There was something else of interest about him, however. According to the id card he wore on a lanyard round his neck, this man

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