Evil for Evil Read online

  CHAPTER NINE

  Christie’s shoulders slumped in dismay. She’d been sure Kerr would ignore Matt’s instructions; no doubt he’d claim Rudolf had made to attack him. As perhaps he had – how did she know?

  She became aware of police sirens away in the distance, but she could also hear Brodie’s furious swearing and then saw him stomping back towards the gate. In the darkness, and possibly even feeling nervous about how immediately his damaged body could respond in an emergency, he had missed.

  Now Christie could see the stag clearly, his bulk looming against the paler night sky. He’d been unsettled; he was snorting and skittering, then began coming towards her at a fast, purposeful trot that swiftly ate up the distance between them.

  She rattled the potatoes in the bowl, still calling, ‘Rudolf!’ but gave a quick glance over her shoulder towards the circle of light from the headlamps, calculating the distance. Lovatt was standing there.

  ‘He’s coming!’ she shouted. ‘I’ll try to bring him to where Kerr can dart him.’

  ‘Get back here!’ Lovatt yelled, fury in his voice. ‘Run!’

  The stag was twenty yards away now, lowering his head. He didn’t look as if he was interested in potatoes.

  Christie ran. It wasn’t far to the gate, but he was effortlessly gaining on her. She heard the shrill, panicky screams of a woman behind the gate and knew she couldn’t reach it in time. Automatically she threw herself to the ground, offering less of a target, protecting her head. She could feel the ground shaking, like muffled drumbeats under her ear.

  Then there was another, quieter shot. As she lay there, she felt the shock go through her as the stag’s body slumped to the ground a few feet away.

  ‘Quiet evening?’ Bill Fleming said as he and Meg came into the sitting room after their evening round, and Meg made a beeline for the rug in front of the fire. ‘You look very comfortable, anyway.’

  Marjory smiled at him, curled up in one of the shabby chairs they were always vowing to replace and somehow never did. ‘Very quiet, for once. I’ve had a chance to go through my reports, and even watched an old Taggart. Do you think we could get them to come along and give us a few tips on wrapping up a crime in under an hour?’

  Bill sat down. ‘Good idea. Did you speak to Cat?’

  ‘No,’ Marjory said slowly. ‘She’s ignoring my messages. Am I being punished, Bill?’

  It had been on her mind all evening. She wanted him to mock her, tell her she was imagining it.

  He pulled a face. ‘It’s possible,’ he said. ‘She was seriously pissed off yesterday.’

  Sometimes a husband who was straight as a die, open and incapable of telling an untruth – admirable as this might be – wasn’t actually what you wanted. Marjory was just about to point out the virtues of the tactful lie when they heard footsteps in the hall.

  ‘There’s Cammie,’ she said. ‘Wonder how his date went?’

  ‘Date?’ Bill said.

  ‘Yes, date. Mark my words.’

  Cammie opened the door. Marjory still found it hard to believe that over what seemed about ten minutes, he’d started towering over her. Girls were bound to feature in his life soon.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Good evening?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Cammie said.

  ‘Were you out with David?’ Marjory asked, naming his best mate with apparent innocence.

  He was still standing in the doorway, moving from foot to foot. ‘Er … no.’

  Bill, notoriously less sensitive, at least where his son was concerned, demanded, ‘Are you just going to stand in the doorway, letting in the draught?’

  ‘Er …’

  Marjory smiled at him. ‘What were you going to ask, darling?’

  Cammie looked at her gratefully. ‘Er – could I bring someone for supper? I’d like you to meet them.’

  ‘“Them?”’ Bill raised his eyebrows sardonically. ‘When you say “them”—’ then subsided at a glance from his wife that suggested completing the sentence would be a mistake.

  ‘Of course you could!’ Marjory said warmly. ‘When would you like to bring her?’

  ‘Tomorrow, maybe? Some time when you’re going to be around,’ Cammie said. ‘I know it’s not always easy to say, but—’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Marjory said quickly. ‘As far as I know, it’s not a problem, and if it is I’m sure we can rearrange it.’

  ‘Yeah. Thanks, Mum.’ He turned to go, then turned back. ‘There’s just one thing …’

  He was looking quite pink and embarrassed. It was very sweet; how young he still was!

  ‘Whatever it is, it’s fine, I promise,’ Marjory said, and saw his face clear.

  ‘Oh good! She’s a vegetarian.’

  It was very hot in the nightclub. Very hot, and the smell of sweat was pretty gross. There was kind of a creepy guy checking her out and Cat moved away to break eye contact. Where was Lily?

  She’d felt OK at first tonight, kind of crazy and free, and there were all these great people who were crazy and free as well, but she was beginning to feel tired and a bit sort of sick of it all – maybe she should go home …

  But it wasn’t home. It was back to a bare room where she’d be alone with the thought that her life had just been, like, totally wrecked. Where was Lily? Maybe if she was going back too, they could talk a bit before they went to bed.

  But Lily didn’t look like she was planning to do that any time soon. When Cat found her, she said, ‘You’re coming down. I can fix that.’ And before Cat knew where she was, she was having, like, a really fab time all over again. Simples!

  For a moment Christie wasn’t sure she could move. She was sending messages to her legs but they didn’t seem to be receiving them. Realising that her face was resting in a cowpat, though, provided the necessary impetus. She sat up hastily, groping for a tissue to wipe it.

  Matt came hurrying through the gate towards her, his face grey in the artificial light. He grabbed her arm, ungently pulling her to her feet. ‘I can’t believe how bloody stupid that was. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’

  ‘No “of course” about it,’ he snarled. ‘If Kerr hadn’t got into position—’

  Christie turned her head. Brodie, his face black with rage, was stumping over. With his back to the interested audience, he swore at her in a vicious undertone.

  Lovatt was turning away. ‘I’ll bring the tractor in. I’ve got the Revivon. Sooner we get him back and bring him round again the better.’

  ‘Sorry, Kerr,’ Christie said as humbly as she could. ‘And thanks. You maybe saved my life there.’

  ‘Not sure why I bothered,’ he said ungraciously. ‘Without you interfering we wouldn’t be having to start on antidotes and monitoring him half the night afterwards to make sure he’s all right.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Christie said again, but she wasn’t. If she hadn’t brought him into Matt’s line of sight, Kerr would have killed Rudolf by now.

  Lovatt was bringing up the forklift attachment ready to move the inert animal on to the trailer. The police sirens weren’t far away now.

  ‘Here.’ Brodie thrust the dart rifle into her hands. ‘Take care of that.’

  Christie took it and headed back to the gate where the family from the chalet above were still watching the free show, though looking damp and cold in the continuing rain.

  Barrie came across as she opened it. ‘Hey! That was seriously cool, the way the big guy just came crashing down.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Christie wasn’t feeling inclined to be chatty. She set down the rifle, ejected the dart then turned to fetch the rubber gloves she needed to handle it. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, spun round and saw Barrie bending to pick up the dart.

  ‘Don’t touch it!’ she screamed in a panic. ‘Get back!’

  The youth jumped, then drew back, putting his hands up. ‘OK, OK!’

  She turned on him, shouting, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get a spot of this on your
hand and you could be dead in five minutes.’

  ‘All right, all right.’ He was looking a bit shaken himself, and his mother stepped forward belligerently.

  ‘Shouldn’t have stuff like that, lying around for people to touch. It’s just all of a piece, the carelessness, letting wild animals roam around the place. This whole thing’s an outrage.’ Getting into her stride, she raised her voice. ‘That’s what it is – an outrage! That creature should have been shot – look what it did to that poor lady—’

  A cool voice came from behind her. ‘I’m fine, actually. Just a graze, that’s all. I can’t imagine why there’s all this fuss.’

  Christie turned and saw a woman approaching from the other chalet, a slim woman walking a little stiffly and wearing a torn jacket with a hood pulled up, not quite covering her blonde hair. The victim, obviously, but she certainly didn’t look like an ambulance case.

  As Barrie’s mother bridled and bleated that you couldn’t be too careful, Christie went on clearing up, stowing the dart safely in the metal box, along with the surgical gloves. The police arrived as she picked up the Narcan, mercifully unneeded.

  Lovatt jumped down from the forklift and went to meet the two uniformed officers. Christie heard him say, ‘So you see, it’s important to revive the animal as soon as possible.’

  They seemed to accept that, taking his name and address, then came up towards the group at the gate.

  ‘Where’s the injured lady?’ one called.

  The blonde woman came forward, putting her hand up to shield her eyes from the headlamp beam. ‘That’s me. But there’s absolutely no need for all this fuss. It was just a minor accident.’

  ‘No need for an ambulance, then?’ The policeman’s tone was dry, and Christie saw the woman colour in annoyance.

  ‘I didn’t send for it – or for you!’ she said fiercely, casting a look of contempt at Barrie’s mother. ‘I suppose it was this woman here. I told her I was fine.’

  ‘How was I to know? Could have been worse than she seemed, isn’t that right, Martin?’ The older woman was sharply defensive.

  ‘Cancel the ambulance, Constable,’ one of the officers said, then as his partner nodded and went back to the patrol car, added, ‘I’ll need statements. Is there anyone else likely to have been a witness to how the animal got out?’

  Christie cleared her throat. ‘Er … there were people in the pub at the time. They might have seen something.’

  ‘Right. We’ll get down there after we’ve finished here.’

  ‘We can go down to the pub too, out of the rain. You could talk to us there.’ The silent Martin spoke with sudden animation, startling everyone. ‘Need a drink after the shock.’

  His wife looked at him askance. ‘Anything for a drink with you, isn’t it?’ Then, as a thought occurred to her, ‘I suppose we could. People’ll want to know what’s happened, won’t they?’

  ‘And you want to tell them,’ Barrie jeered. ‘Tragic, you are.’

  The blonde woman cut in on the domestic discussion. ‘I’d be grateful if you could take my statement first, officer. I’m still slightly shaken and I’d like to get to bed.’

  ‘Of course, ma’am.’ He turned to Christie. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I live at the farm. I’ve got hazardous waste here, and I need to get back to dispose of it safely.’ She held up the metal box.

  He nodded. ‘On you go,’ and Christie hurried off down the path.

  At least it sounded as if it wouldn’t be a major problem. But now she began turning her mind to what had happened in the first place. She knew, absolutely knew, she hadn’t left the gate unlatched. So who had opened it? Who was bent on causing trouble for Matt?

  He wasn’t popular in the village; she knew that, though she wasn’t clear why. But what she’d seen for herself was the growing hostility between Matt and Kerr, presumably because of Lissa – was it possible Kerr had done this, just to cause trouble? He’d been keen to shoot Rudolf, when in fact a killing shot to the head or neck was much more difficult in these conditions than a dart that would be effective wherever it hit. Rudolf was a great favourite with Matt …

  Perhaps Christie was over-refining. Perhaps, as Kerr said, it was just that he didn’t want all the bother. And perhaps she should leave it to the police to find out what had happened and get on with the job in hand.

  Cal Findlay’s sitting room was on the side of the house, looking inland across the roofs of Innellan. Originally a bedroom, it was dark and poky and only merited its present designation by virtue of an armchair, television and computer. Its one advantage was that Cal didn’t have to share it with his mother.

  He had been sitting in darkness watching a sci-fi movie, though, if challenged, he could not have recalled a single detail of what passed for a plot. The sound of police sirens brought him instantly to his feet and he went to the window, his nerves jangling.

  The flashing blue light was moving up the hill on the far side of the hamlet where the chalets were, and now he saw that there were other lights there too, the headlamps of stationary vehicles. What was going on?

  Probably, Findlay told himself, it was just one of the minor disturbances that happened from time to time and the police were bigging it up as an excuse for blasting along on sirens. It could be kids mucking about – or, now he thought about it, a stag party getting out of hand. He’d seen a group of young men in the pub.

  Even so, an emergency … And his nerves were in tatters already. He had to find out what was happening.

  They’d know down at the Smugglers. Without even switching off the TV he left the room and grabbed a jacket from a peg in the hall. As he opened the front door, his mother’s voice moaned, ‘Help me, oh help me!’

  Her usual cry. He hardly heard it now.

  Georgia Stanley had never seen the pub so full of locals and everyone was in a rollicking mood. Word of free drinks had obviously got around, since many of the people had arrived later and she’d seen the Donaldsons on their mobile phones. Tony Drummond was coming in now too, journalistic antennae bristling.

  Cal Findlay had just arrived as well. It was most unusual for him to make a repeat visit late in the evening, but he didn’t join anyone, just going to edge himself into his usual place at the far end of the bar. Maybe he’d heard the police sirens and come to see what the fuss was about.

  Like a good landlady, Georgia told him and served him his free drink, to his obvious surprise. She was beginning to worry about the bill that would be waiting for Matt Lovatt and had started restricting the supply for people trying to stack them up – like the Donaldsons, naturally, who were getting more obnoxious by the minute. She took an anxious glance at the clock; it was a while yet till closing time and at this rate the poor guy would need a second mortgage to pay his bar bill.

  The arrival of Martin and his family caused an immediate stir. As his wife came in, clutching at her heart dramatically, she proclaimed in carrying tones, ‘You’d better get me a brandy, Martin. I was never so terrified in my life!’ Within minutes a fascinated group had gathered, with the Donaldsons, Sorley and Tony Drummond well to the fore. There was a reverent hush as Barrie took over to describe in minute detail his near-death encounter with the poison darts.

  He had just reached the point where the girl had said, ‘I shall have to dispose of this hazardous waste,’ when the back door of the pub opened and Matt Lovatt came in, gaunt with tiredness and strain.

  He seemed surprised at the silence, but it allowed him to say, ‘Thanks for being so patient, everyone. The stag’s safely back in his pen.’

  ‘So I’m afraid you’ll have to pay for this yourself,’ Georgia said with considerable satisfaction as she set down a pint in front of a scowling Steve Donaldson. He fumbled for the money with a dirty look at her and at Lovatt.

  The buzz of talk started up again as Lovatt said, ‘All right, Georgia, what’s the damage?’

  ‘I hate to tell you, Matt. But look, I’ll split the difference on the whol
esale price. It’s been great business for me this evening.’

  He looked taken aback, she thought, as if kindness was beyond his expectation. His ‘That’s very generous of you. Are you sure?’ sounded stiff, though she had no doubt that his gratitude was genuine.

  ‘Least I could do,’ she said. ‘I think word got round.’

  He looked round the bar ruefully. ‘Yes, I can see that.’ Then he lowered his voice. ‘Could I just ask you – did you hear anyone say anything about how the stag got out? Christie swears the gate was latched and I’m inclined to believe her.’

  With some regret, Georgia said that she hadn’t. ‘But I can tell you, there was a lot of joking and sniggering from the Donaldsons and Derek Sorley just after you went out to deal with it.’

  Lovatt sighed. ‘Doesn’t prove anything, of course. But …’

  ‘Exactly,’ Georgia agreed. She hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but you should be warned. That lot really hate you, you know. They’ll do anything they can to harm you.’

  ‘I know that,’ he said wearily. ‘I’ve lived with it since I came here. Now, what do I owe you?’

  She worked it out and he paid with a credit card, then thanked her again. As he walked out, there was a gale of unpleasant laughter from the Donaldsons’ table.

  Georgia bit her lip. She’d said all she could say to Lovatt, but he hadn’t picked up on her feeling that the resentment which had simmered for three years was for some reason coming to the boil.

  Christie came back from the farm office to the kitchen and went to the sink to scrub her hands, feeling that you couldn’t be too careful.

  ‘I’m glad to have got rid of that scary stuff,’ she said to Lissa, who was sitting at the table with a cup of herbal tea, looking damp and reproachful. ‘Are the men still busy with Rudolf?’

  ‘Kerr is. Matt’s gone back to the pub to pay a huge bill we really can’t afford. And all for such a simple thing as a gate not being shut properly …’ She gave a little sigh, her limpid gaze an oblique accusation.