The Party House, page 6
Joanne caught her breath in wonderment.
The hollow, enclosed by the ancient-looking trees, was dotted by dark peaty pools and fallen moss-covered trunks, with here and there a carved creature, some of which she’d seen from the hill at Beanach.
What she hadn’t spotted was the centrepiece of this display.
Two larger intricate carvings, which she immediately recognized as symbols of new life. The green man and woman of the woods.
Joanne took a seat on a mossy log and breathed it all in.
She could imagine this would be where couples would meet and, she acknowledged, it more closely resembled her own woodland fantasy than the place Greg had chosen for her.
Using her mobile, she took a series of photographs for the piece she was working on. The article she hadn’t mentioned to Greg. The one she would likely publish under her pseudonym and not Joanne Addington.
She was disturbed in these thoughts by the sudden arrival of a black Labrador, who immediately bounded over to greet her.
‘Hello there. Who are you, I wonder?’ she said, rubbing the glossy coat.
It was a female voice that answered. ‘Her name’s Heidi.’
Looking up, she found Caroline observing her. ‘Greg gave her to me. She’s one of Sasha’s litter.’
‘Oh,’ was all Joanne could think of saying. ‘She’s lovely.’
‘I hear there’s trouble at the Party House,’ Caroline said. ‘I take it Greg’s up there?’
Joanne had no idea how to respond. What would Greg want her to say?
She decided to feign ignorance. ‘Colin called him this morning. No idea what the problem was,’ she lied.
Caroline didn’t respond, but continued to observe her as though she were a goldfish in a bowl. Caroline’s bowl.
The mark of the intruder now firmly branded on her brow, Joanne decided her best defence was escape.
‘Well,’ she said, glancing at her watch, ‘I’d better get on.’
‘Where are you heading?’ Caroline demanded.
‘Just a wander in the woods. It’s lovely, don’t you think? Especially this place.’
Caroline gave the glade a cursory glance. ‘It’s a place where young folk come to fuck,’ she said pointedly. ‘Everyone in the village has had sex here at some time or another. Especially when we were teenagers.’ She indicated the green man and woman. ‘Just as well not all of us fell pregnant.’
Joanne was pretty sure that was a loaded remark, but didn’t hang about for further enlightenment.
‘It was nice meeting you,’ she offered as she made for the path out of the mossy dell without looking back.
Her heart was pounding, and not because she was currently climbing a hill. What the hell was Caroline alluding to with the sex and pregnancy references? And she’d made a big thing about Heidi being an offspring of one of Greg’s dogs.
She’d felt Caroline’s eyes boring into her back as she’d climbed towards the main path, the waves of dislike as powerful as they’d been in the shop, the day she’d arrived.
So, she was right. Caroline and Greg had been a thing.
Well, she obviously wasn’t with him now, which was probably why she was so pissed off.
Deciding she would keep the cemetery for another day, Joanne chose the Main Street route, hopeful that by leaving the woods altogether she could avoid meeting Caroline again.
Minutes later, she passed through a gate and onto a pathway, with Main Street visible ahead. And there, yards away on her left, was the back door of the village hall. This was where Ailsa had last been seen as she’d left to walk home. Six youths had given statements that they’d been standing here together when she’d set off into the woods around ten thirty.
The drill of her mobile broke into her thoughts. Since only two people had this number, she expected either Greg or Lucy’s name to be on the screen. Instead she found an unknown caller.
Unnerved by this, she tried to find an explanation for it . . . spam, of course, being the most likely one. Staring stupidly at the screen, her heart racing, she finally reached for the dismiss button, just as Caroline appeared alongside her, waving her own mobile.
‘Greg just called me. He says they’ve found a body in the wreckage of the hot tub. He thinks it might be Ailsa Cummings.’ There was a pause as she checked for Joanne’s response to her announcement. ‘You do know about Ailsa?’
So Greg had called Caroline about the possibility that it might be Ailsa, yet he’d refused to discuss it with her.
Having already lied to Caroline about her knowledge of what was happening at the Party House, Joanne was at a loss as to how to respond, then decided attack was now her best line of defence.
‘I’m glad he told you,’ she said evenly. ‘I didn’t want to break his confidence until he made up his mind what he should do.’
She was rewarded by a surprised look from Caroline, which swiftly turned into one of annoyance.
‘Greg and I have always shared things,’ she said. ‘We grew up together here in Blackrig.’
Joanne smiled. ‘It’s important to have friends you can share things with. Especially in a small community like this. Now I’d better get back to Beanach. Greg will be expecting to find me there.’
And with that she left Caroline, hopefully open-mouthed, although she didn’t look back to find out.
Now she was sure. Caroline and Greg had been a thing and Caroline was apparently under the impression they still were.
What about Greg?
Had he invited her here not imagining for a moment she would take up his offer?
She considered what had happened between them up to now and decided that it didn’t feel like that. Plus he’d seemed genuinely keen that she should stay on, despite the circumstances.
And, she reminded herself, you came here for other reasons beside sex.
Greg
Greg rang off, unsure now whether he’d done the right thing in warning Caroline that the police had found a body, and that it might be Ailsa’s.
You owe Caroline, he reminded himself, especially with anything to do with Ailsa Cummings.
Besides, in a community the size of Blackrig, the discovery of a body would become common knowledge soon enough. He couldn’t imagine for a moment that Josh and his gang would have kept it a secret for long.
As for Colin, it had been difficult enough getting him to wait until Harry appeared on the scene.
No, Caroline had to be told first, and by him, if only to keep her on side about that night.
Glancing at the balcony, he noted that most of the women appeared still to be there and continuing to consume champagne. He wondered, and not for the first time, why the folk that came to the place seemed to be here just to party, rather than enjoy their surroundings.
He was also dubious about taking anyone from Stratton’s group out on the hills if they were inebriated, although he couldn’t see himself able to deny the CEO of the company he effectively worked for. Stratton had made it evident often enough that what he wanted he got.
He thought once again that it would have been wiser to leave the estate when it’d changed hands, but he loved this place, despite what had happened in the last few years.
You might live to regret not leaving, he thought. Especially now.
A swift glance at the forensic tent and associated police vehicles reminded him that all hell was about to break loose in Blackrig. Just like five years ago, a major investigation team would appear, but this time they had a body, and you didn’t need to watch TV crime dramas to know that changed everything.
Especially for him.
His anxiety mounting, he noted that the women on the balcony were all scrutinizing him. The one called Viola blew him a kiss. Pretending not to notice, he focused instead on Aidan, who’d now emerged from the house and was striding towards him.
‘Ah, Taylor. Just myself and Brian heading out. We’ll be ready for you in half an hour.’
‘Colin will be taking you out today,’ Greg said evenly.
Stratton threw him an annoyed look. ‘Surely you will be the one to take us?’
It didn’t sound like a question, more of a command, which made Greg enjoy giving his recently thought-up answer even more.
‘The police want me here as a representative of the estate until the body is processed and removed. I’m liaising with PC McGowan on this.’
Anger darkened Stratton’s face. He wasn’t used to being thwarted, but it was obvious arguing with the police might be something he wasn’t keen on doing.
Greg wondered at that moment whether the police hadn’t been keen on Stratton’s group taking up residence on what was essentially a crime scene.
‘Sorry, but I think we’ll have to comply with their request,’ Greg said, to rub it in.
‘No matter.’ Stratton shook his head in dismissal. ‘We shall make do with the boy, then. What’s his name again?’
‘Colin.’
‘Well, I do hope he knows what he’s doing.’
‘He does,’ Greg assured him.
‘We’ll be down in thirty minutes. Make sure he’s ready and waiting.’
‘Of course,’ Greg said as an infuriated Stratton turned on his heel and took himself back to the Party House.
Finding Colin still hanging about awaiting instructions, Greg gave him the bad news.
‘You are joking!’ Colin’s expression was so traumatized, Greg considered changing his mind, but didn’t.
‘They’re safer with you. If I have to listen to Stratton’s bloody voice again today, I’m liable to shoot him rather than a stag.’
‘Okay, boss, but you owe me one.’
‘More than one,’ Greg said with a thankful smile.
‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ Colin said. ‘A Detective Snyder has arrived. He’s with Harry in the incident van up at the gate. Harry says he’ll likely want to talk to us about finding the body. You’ll need to tell him I’m out on the hill with the Party House folk.’
So offloading Stratton hadn’t turned out to be such a good idea after all, Greg thought, as he made his way to the entrance. Still, their story was simple enough. Colin had covered the wreckage with a tarpaulin on his orders and called PC McGowan, who, on examining it in closer detail, had spotted the body. If Snyder asked any awkward questions, he would brief Colin in advance of his own interview.
Approaching the open door of the incident van, Greg steeled himself. This discovery of the body was only the initial skirmish, but it would involve lying by omission. Once the murder investigation began, the lies would only get bigger.
He wondered if this Detective Snyder had already made himself acquainted with the previous investigation. Fear gripped him momentarily. Could he remember exactly what he’d said back then?
At that moment Harry emerged from the van, looking pretty serious.
‘Detective Inspector Snyder’s inside. He wants to talk to you about finding the body.’
‘I didn’t find it,’ Greg reminded him. ‘You did.’
‘That’s what he wants to talk to you about.’
Harry stood back for Greg to enter.
Joanne
Main Street was like running the gauntlet, she thought, as a third person crossed the road on spotting her approach.
It might have been less stressful to return to Beanach by the woods after all.
She turned as a head popped up in a neighbouring garden, and a voice called out, ‘Don’t mind them, dear. Folk have got used to keeping their distance. It’s hard to break the habit even when they tell you it’s all over.’ The elderly woman gave her a wide smile. ‘You’ll be Greg’s visitor up from London?’
Joanne nodded, giving her name.
‘Nice to meet you, Joanne Addington. I’m Kath Webster. My son Malcolm has the Blackrig Arms.’ She paused. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy a cuppa? I’ve just about had enough of weeding. Or my back has.’
When Joanne hesitated, she added, ‘We can have it here in the garden if you like, or we can go inside and really give them something to talk about.’
Joanne laughed. ‘I’d like that very much. Thank you.’
‘Good, come away in, then.’
Minutes later, Joanne was seated in a sunny front room with a large ginger cat eyeing her sleepily from the back of a neighbouring couch.
‘You’re in luck,’ the woman said, entering to place a tray on the nearby coffee table. ‘I just got a fresh delivery of scones from the pub. Malcolm keeps me well supplied with goodies from the kitchen.’
During the silence that followed, while they both munched their scones, Joanne considered why she’d really been invited in. Was she to be questioned on her and Greg or what had happened at the Party House?
It turned out to be neither, in fact.
Joanne relaxed as Kath did all the talking, and she began to learn things about Greg and the village.
‘Greg and his dad have lived at Beanach for as long as I remember. His mum, Elspeth, died when he was ten. Cancer.’ She shook her head in memory of that. ‘His dad, Jim, was a gamekeeper on the estate. That was in the days when Lord Main owned Blackrig. Like many of the young folk, Greg went away, then came back when his dad died. Took over from Jim.’ She checked with Joanne. ‘He didn’t tell you all this?’
‘Just bits and pieces,’ Joanne fibbed.
Kath nodded. ‘Aye, he’s not a great talker. Keeps himself to himself, just like his father.’
She was silent for a bit and Joanne thought she was trying to decide what she would say next. Eventually she continued.
‘A few folk left after the terrible time when Ailsa Cummings disappeared. Then we lost five of our children to the virus, brought in by folk who should never have been here in the first place.’ Her voice rose in anger. ‘Rich folk who thought the law didn’t apply to them. Like our current owner.’
‘I thought six people had died,’ Joanne said, puzzled.
Kath nodded. ‘Five children, plus my daughter-in-law, Mairi. She was our district nurse.’
‘Oh, I am sorry,’ Joanne said, feeling terrible to have brought it up. She waited a moment, then tried to bring the subject back to Ailsa.
Kath scrutinized her. ‘Aye, I know about the body up at Ard Choille and that it’s likely to be that poor lassie. Bad news blows through Blackrig like a north wind.’
Joanne waited again, knowing Kath would likely say more if given time.
‘It’s a sorry tale. Her parents brought her here to get her away from Glasgow. She was supposed to be going to art college in the autumn. All excited about it she was. We used to take a walk together in the woods now and again. She always had her sketch pad. Would suddenly take a seat and start to draw.’ She paused. ‘She did a lot of sketches of the carvings in the woods. The green woman and green man in particular. Gave me one of the woman as a present, if you’d like to see it?’
Joanne nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable as the girl she’d only thought of as an intriguing story suddenly began to feel real.
Having left the room, Kath now reappeared with a framed drawing and handed it to Joanne.
The image was so powerful, it made her catch her breath.
‘Good, isn’t it?’ Kath said. ‘I feel I can see the real Ailsa when I look at it. Not those silly selfies she used to take of herself.’
They sat quietly for a moment, before Joanne ventured to ask, ‘What was Ailsa like, really?’
Kath gave a little smile. ‘An exotic butterfly, especially to the local lads. She played them along, of course, though you couldn’t blame her for that. I liked her. I liked her very much.’ Her face clouded over. ‘The police were convinced one of the village boys had something to do with her disappearance, but there were holiday folk here then too. Some thought she’d gone back to Glasgow, maybe with one of the visitors.’
She halted there briefly, before continuing. ‘The whole thing set the village against itself. Everyone was under suspicion, especially the men. The police swabbed them all for DNA, but they never found a body, so they’d no evidence that she’d been harmed.’ She shook her head, apparently remembering the horror of it all. ‘Her poor parents couldn’t stand it here after that and when the searches ended they upped and left. Just like that. The house belonged to the estate. It’s still shut up.’
‘Where is the house?’ Joanne said.
‘Just to the east of Beanach, but not easy to spot from the track. It’s marked Forrigan on the map.’
So it was close to Greg’s place.
Joanne looked up to discover Kath’s concerned eyes on her.
‘Now they’ve found what they think is that poor lassie, it’ll be bad here again,’ she said. ‘Especially for Greg. I hope you’ll stick around for him.’
Greg
He looks like the real thing, was Greg’s first thought as the detective stood up to greet him. Tall and broad with eyes that strove to take in everything about you at a glance.
‘This is Greg Taylor, head ghillie here at Blackrig,’ Harry introduced him. ‘Colin, his assistant, is currently out with a shooting party.’
‘Detective Inspector Snyder,’ the man confirmed. ‘Please take a seat, Mr Taylor.’ He waved at the chair opposite him at the small table, then nodded to Harry that he could go, which he hastened to do.
Snyder leaned back in the chair and completed his study of Greg before saying, ‘First things first. I wondered if there was an estate office we might make use of for interviews? As you can see, this space is not ideal.’
‘I’m sorry. This is a small estate. I run things from my study at Beanach, where I live.’
Snyder nodded. ‘I see. I passed a building next to the church on my way through Blackrig. I take it that’s the village hall?’
‘It is,’ Greg confirmed.
‘Then we’ll headquarter there. Who do I get in touch with about that?’
‘Malcolm Webster, who has the Blackrig Arms, is chairman of the community council.’ He offered him Malcolm’s number. ‘However, there’s a ceilidh being held in the hall tomorrow night – the first since we’ve emerged from lockdown – but there are a couple of rooms at the rear you could probably use.’
