One to Six, Buckle to Sticks (Grasshopper Lawns Book 11) Page 18

  ~~~

  ‘Ve saw the strange man on our outing.’ Olga absently helped herself to another of the deliciously flaky biscuits she had put out ‘just for Edge’. ‘There is a very strange thing about him, Donald does not agree but I am not sure I feel safe valking alone with him staying there.’

  ‘I haven’t seen him.’ Edge offered, ‘but I did ask Katryn this morning while you two were doing your stretches. He’s nothing to do with anyone here, but because it was standing vacant, the Trust agreed for him to take it on a weekly basis. Malcolm somebody. The first family bookings aren’t until the Easter holidays. Why’s he strange?’

  ‘He doesn’t seem... right.’ Olga searched for words. ‘I vas coming back from a valk the other day and he vas looking wrong. Then Sylvia and her dog came valking up from the bottom of the campsite and the dog barked to him and he vent quick into the guest house. I vas very pleased to see them. Something vas not right.’

  Donald, amused, pressed for details but Olga’s grasp of English wasn’t up to the task and she just stubbornly insisted there was something not right with the visitor. He stood up, brushed the crumbs off his lap and said, deadpan, to Edge, ‘I can’t believe you ate all those biscuits. I have to be away, ladies, I’m heading through to Edinburgh this afternoon. Olga, we have to do this again, much nicer than joining the elevenses bunch. My place next time?’

  ~~~

  As it happened, Edge saw the campsite resident late that afternoon and kept one eye on him as Maggie ran eagerly ahead on her extending lead. He looked, despite what Olga had said, unremarkable, a stooped heavyset man wearing a flat cap and a quilted parka, with grizzled sideburns further down his cheeks than was fashionable. His faded corduroys were tucked into Wellington boots and he was limping back down from the campsite shops, a carrier bag in one hand. Their paths were going to cross, so she shortened the lead and he walked past without a sidelong glance.

  When she got back into her apartment, the phone was doing the quick beeping internal ring, although infuriatingly it stopped as she closed the door. It started again as she maneuvered her heel into the boot puller, to haul off her second boot.

  ‘Have you been walking Maggie?’ There was strain etched in Vivian’s voice. ‘Did you take off her muzzle at all? Did she eat anything?’

  ‘Yes, no, and no. What is it, for heaven’s sake?’

  ‘Oh Edge, too awful. Some maniac’s put poison down somewhere along our usual dog walks, probably somewhere on the campsite. Two of the dogs are at the vet’s now and it doesn’t look— they may not make it.’

  Edge sat down abruptly. ‘Not Buster?’ she asked automatically and heard Vivian hiccup with horror at the thought.

  ‘No, no, he’s fine. Thank heavens Dallas was here most of the day so Buster’s walks were straight out and back, in that bit above the bungalows. Archie, you know, Brian’s beagle? And Froufrou. Megan’s calling all the dog owners but she said she couldn’t get hold of you. Dallas has just left and I thought I’d quickly try you once more. I’m on my way over to Sylvia’s now, I was frantic to reach you first so if Maggie did start vomiting you’d know why.’

  ‘Thanks, and thank goodness for the muzzle. But listen, did Dallas explain?’

  ‘About the Wendell thing? No, and to be honest, I couldn’t think how to raise the subject. We talked about general stuff, and she was asking about my kids; she never had any of her own. One thing about living here, where no one else has grandchildren, I never do get to talk about them much. I must have bored the boots off her, but she’s a very good listener. And we talked about the people here. I think she would even have come with me to Sylvia’s, if I had asked. Don’t forget about coming to tea here tomorrow, by the way, to meet her again. And remember, you’re not to say anything to the boys about the relationship, they don’t know. Sylvia and Olga were supposed to be coming too, Dallas really wanted to meet them after hearing my stories, but I don’t know if Sylvia will come now. You can say she doesn’t want to switch lives with me, Dallas I mean, but she certainly is intrigued by ours—I wouldn’t be that surprised if she applied to move here, in time. We’re pretty lucky here, you know.’

  ‘When our dogs aren’t being poisoned.’ Edge reminded her and Vivian gave a little squeak of dismay at how late she was for Sylvia, and rang off.

  Edge managed to tug her other boot off and fed the dog, then stood at her window for long moments staring out into the gathering darkness. It felt as though more than darkness was gathering. Ever since the suicide, things had been out of kilter. As though, Edge thought morbidly, whatever miseries had driven that unhappy girl to take her own life were still swirling around the Lawns. It was certainly what her own, decidedly fey, mother would have believed. Clarissa’s stroke, and inheriting the disruptive Maggie. Sylvia either experimenting with drugs, or falling headlong into dementia—the loss of her dog would be a catastrophe, if the old dog didn’t survive. Brian, a quiet man rarely seen without his beagle, would be equally devastated. Poison, deliberately or accidentally, left about in the dog walking areas didn’t bear thinking about, nor did the fact that Buster or Odette could as easily be fighting for their lives. The sudden arrival of the mysterious Dallas Winter, pretending to be someone she wasn’t—Edge realized she was hugging herself and reached to close the curtains, putting on more lights than usual as she prepared a chicken salad for her supper. She pulled up a side table for her plate and glass of wine, swung her legs up onto the sofa, threw a light lap robe over them, and started flipping through television channels. Maggie, a keen fan of television, jumped onto the sofa and settled herself expectantly, her ears twitching alertly until Edge found a QI she hadn’t seen. The studio audience roared with laughter and Edge took a long sip of wine, then tackled her chicken salad with good appetite as the haunting shadows were chased out of the bright little apartment.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Tuesday—St Valentine’s Day

  There could be no earthly reason why someone would press a piece of cold haggis to the back of her neck and yet someone was doing it … Edge fought her way up through clouds of sleep and rolled over to glare at Maggie. The burly little dog was apologetic, but firm. She had to go outside, and she had to go now. Edge looked at her bedside clock and groaned. Four in the morning! Yawning hugely, she pulled on her full-length silk dressing gown and stumbled towards the porch door, stepping into her gardening clogs as the dog quivered with impatience. The slip-lead was hanging off the handle, as usual, and she ignored the muzzle. At four in the morning? She opened the door and Maggie was gone like a bullet, whipping the lead straight through her sleep-stupid fingers as she shot off to squat in the shelter of the hedge. By the time Edge had retrieved a baggie from her dog-walking parka and followed, the dog had completed her urgent mission and slipped away into the shadows for a quick moonlit sniff around. Edge hunkered down with the baggie, peering to find the jobbie, and hoped Maggie didn’t find a stray cat, or a fox, or any other reason to make a noise and rouse the sleeping community.

  Not that everyone was sleeping. She could hear soft swift footsteps coming in her direction, directly across the dark lawn from the corner nearest the house; the opposite direction, fortunately, from the dog. Donald, at a guess. Every now and then he attended a leather club and had nearly given her a heart attack not long ago, looming up soundlessly out of the dark as she parked her car after an evening out with Patrick and barking ‘Boo!’ at her. Boo indeed. She’d give him boo. Pay-back time! She swallowed a giggle, waited until he was only yards away, then stood up abruptly.

  It wasn’t Donald. Confronting her across the hedge was Death in midnight robes, complete with scythe.

  ~~~

  The laughing ‘boo’ twisted in her frozen throat, then emerged as a thin warble of terror. For a second, or a minute, or a year, she stared Death in the face, and then even as she realized that the heavily shadowed, bone-white face framed in the cowl was the famous Scream mask, Maggie, summoned by the tiny shriek, ripped out of the shad
ows and launched herself snarling into an attack. Death yelped, stumbled, and sprinted off with Maggie rasping at his heels. They vanished into the shadows of the garden, there was a ripping sound, a cry of pain, an echoing meaty thump, Maggie yelped sharply—and silence.

  Edge stood frozen, her hands at her throat until Maggie limped into sight with a trailing mouthful of black fabric and blood on her muzzle. She managed to look both defiant and chastened and Edge bent to pat her reassuringly. She couldn’t bring herself to say ‘good girl’ because, when all was said and done, Maggie had broken parole and bitten someone, no matter what the provocation. Edge glanced around furtively. No lights on in any apartments, not even her own. No sound anywhere. No witnesses. It would come down to her versus the numpty and she would go straight on the attack in defense of the dog. Whichever resident was lunatic enough to dress up as Death, of all the inappropriate jokes, to wander around in the early hours? Being bitten was their own fault. Maggie had merely reacted, perfectly appropriately, to Edge’s fear.

  She dozed fitfully and was up and dressed early, walking Maggie—who was no longer limping, but flinched when Edge gently ran her hands over her flank—before putting her into one of the runs. Early breakfasters could get in through the side door before the main doors opened, and she went quickly through the breakfast room to trot lightly up the stairs. Megan wasn’t at her desk yet but Matron had an apartment on the third floor and was always in Frail Care before nine. During the intervening hours of darkness she had become convinced the Death idiot wasn’t a resident but some bampot playing a prank, but just in case she was determined to get her complaint in first.

  Matron was, as she expected, in her ready room, but she wasn’t alone. Katryn was sitting with her, both drinking coffee and both looking deeply depressed.

  ‘Edge!’ Katryn reacted first to her entrance, as Matron put her coffee down, looking surprised. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Far from.’ Edge launched her prepared attack. ‘Maggie bit someone last night, but it was my fault, I set her on them deliberately. So if you have to blame someone, blame me, but I would do it again. Anyone stupid enough to wander round trying to terrify people by dressing up as Death deserves it!’

  They both stared at her but then to her astonishment exchanged glances that she could swear were relieved, even delighted.

  ‘You saw Death last night?’ Matron jumped up and to her complete bewilderment hugged her abruptly. ‘That is just the best news!’

  Katryn let out breath in a huge sigh, then looked fierce. ‘I hope Maggie bit him really badly. I hope he bleeds to bluddy death. If you knew!’

  ‘Knew what?’ She looked from one to the other, bewildered. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Come, come with me!’ Matron grabbed her hand and started tugging her towards the emergency room. ‘You have to tell Sylvia.’ She opened the door, peered round it, then opened it fully. ‘Sylvia, my love—such good news. Tell her, Edge!’

  Sylvia, tiny and very pale without her usual vivid make-up, was lying in one of the room’s two beds and struggled up onto her elbows at their entrance. On the locker beside her was a scattering of basics—her handbag, hairbrush, comb, a black tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush.

  ‘Tell me what?’ she sounded exhausted, almost extinguished.

  ‘Edge saw him too! He was real! Someone dressed up as a stupid prank!’

  ‘You saw him? Really? Are you sure?’

  ‘Quite sure.’ Edge, still bewildered, was firm on that point. ‘And Maggie bit him.’ she added defiantly. Sylvia completed her astonishment by starting to laugh a bit wildly.

  ‘Good. Good for Maggie.’ she gasped and collapsed back against the pillows. ‘Oh God. I’m not insane!’

  ‘Not at all.’ Katryn, who had followed them as far as the doorway, said firmly. ‘You’re the victim of a very silly practical joke. I’m going to ask Matron to keep you here today and tonight, so you can get some decent sleep, but I can promise you, Sylvia, we’re going to get to the bottom of this.’

  Matron shooed them out and went over to the bed where Sylvia’s laughs were turning into sobs, and Katryn followed Edge out, shutting the door behind them.

  ‘You have to tell me what’s going on.’ Edge said flatly and Katryn sighed.

  ‘Ja, I know. You noticed yourself how strange Sylvia has been lately, but she swore she wasn’t taking any drugs and she never drinks, so Matron was obviously worrying about her starting some variation of dementia. Yesterday she was all over the place, what with that dog of hers picking up poison and having to be rushed to the vet. Matron tried to get her to come into Frail Care for the night but she wouldn’t. Next thing the panic buzzer is activated, funny o’clock in the morning, Sylvia’s flat but now she’s not answering the phone. So Matron and I arrive at the gallop and she’s locked herself in the bathroom and is completely hysterical, raving that Death had knocked at her door. She thinks we’re him as well, takes us twenty minutes to get her to open the bathroom door and come with us. I’ve hardly slept, came here half an hour ago to sit down with Fiona to go through it all and work out what we do. We were sitting here talking about maybe having to get her sectioned when you walk in and tell us that bluddy dog of Clarissa’s not only saw him but took a chunk out of him. I tell you what, Edge, I’m going to make some biltong for the dog. She deserves it.’

  ‘No wonder you were so delighted!’ Edge took a deep breath. ‘You know what, Katryn? I nearly had a heart attack on the spot, so I’m not surprised Sylvia freaked. She’s always hinting she’s not got a strong heart, and she’s off kilter at the moment anyway. You don’t suppose it wasn’t just a prank? Could anyone have been somehow drugging her as well?’

  ‘Something hallucinatory?’ Katryn’s face grew dark with anger at the thought. ‘That’s bluddy wicked. Jeez. Okay, I’m calling the police in. That’s attempted murder, if they have been doing that. Who the blazes would want to kill her, though?’

  Edge, with what she’d learned about Simon, drew in breath to speak, then let it out again. Katryn, no fool, shot her a quick glance. ‘The new nephew? She phoned him in Sydney not an hour ago to have a weep. I had to talk to him because she started crying so hard she couldn’t speak. He was in a pub, Oz TV in the background, then he went outside so he could hear better, although it wasn’t that much quieter in the street. Shame, he was really worried about her, he also seemed to think she has a dicky heart. She’d be dead for sure if she had.’

  Matron came back into the room looking a bit grim. ‘She’s calmer now. I only hope your Death idiot brings his bite in here to be treated, I’ll tear such a strip off him!’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t think it is a resident.’ Edge offered. ‘I thought so at the time, because, well, I thought it was Donald. Walking around at that time of night, I mean. I obviously didn’t think it was Donald once I saw the outfit. Whoever it was, he sprinted like an athlete when she went for him. He got her a good wallop with his scythe, too, she’s quite sore this morning. Do you have anything for dog bruises?’

  I’ll give you some arnica; that should help dogs as much as it does humans. I hope she really hurt him. This has definitely put her on the side of the angels, for once. And listen, Edge, if he’s enough of an idiot to put in a complaint, the Trust is one hundred percent behind you. Just fancy her being able to go for someone on command! She’s a regular police dog!’

  ‘Mmm.’ Edge guiltily changed the subject. ‘Matron, what’s the latest on Clarissa, have you heard? I visit her every few days but she doesn’t know herself when they’re letting her go and I have to tell you, I’m getting very tired of my regular police dog. What’s it been, ten days?’

  ‘I’ll find out.’ Matron promised.

  ‘If it isn’t for a while.’ Katryn added ‘I’ll see if we can make a plan to give you a break, okay? You shouldn’t have to take all the strain. Worse than a baby, if she’s going to have you up at four in the morning!’

  ~~~

  Edge felt immeas
urably more cheerful as she picked her way down the sweeping staircase into the big hall. Megan, who had come in while she was upstairs, beamed up at her.

  ‘You’re in early! Were you waiting for these?’

  ‘These what? Ooh, for me?’ Megan had lifted a sheaf of superb red roses from behind her desk and Edge hurried down the last two steps. ‘They are lovely, but—’ in the back of her mind was a kind of astonishment that Death would send her roses, but reality clicked back into place as she saw the heart-shaped card. ‘Valentine’s Day! I had completely forgotten!’

  ‘Who do you think they’re from?’ Megan asked, and Edge started to laugh.

  ‘Patrick, my accountant. He’s a very eligible widower, but he’ll have bankrupted himself if he’s sent these to his entire harem! He gives me roses every year, but usually only a half-dozen; these are magnificent. Damn, I have a couple of things myself that I meant to pop in pigeon-holes. I’ll have to hurry if I’m to deliver them in time. Hang on though.’

  Carefully unfolding the tissue paper, she removed half the long-stemmed roses and took the card from the envelope which bore her name. Nothing had been written in the card and the back had just the supplier’s name, Secret Admirer, and a website. With a pang of regret, sternly repressed, she handed them to Megan. ‘That was lucky, he hasn’t signed the card, he doesn’t usually hide his light under a bushel. Sylvia’s upstairs, in Frail Care. She needs a boost more than I do.’

  Megan took them carefully, with a smile. ‘I’ll see they reach her. There’s a card came in the post for you as well—I put it in your box. It’s been quite a good post this year.’

  ‘It always is.’ Edge smiled at her. ‘You see to that! Nobody gets left out when you’re around!’

  ‘My lips are sealed.’ Megan said solemnly, her mouth primmed but her eyes dancing. ‘Anyway, there really was something for nearly everybody.’