Read Online Cradle to Grave by Aline Templeton - Free Book Online Page A

vandalism.’
    ‘Oh, yes, that.’ He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. ‘I thought you’d come about the landslide at the Rosscarron Cottages down below there. A man dead, a woman injured, homes destroyed . . .’
    The guitar had just stopped and there was an appalled silence, before Fleming said, ‘That’s terrible news. I think, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll leave the other matter for the moment.’ She took her mobile out of her pocket and squinted at it. ‘No signal. If I might just use your phone . . .’
    ‘No point. Lines must be down somewhere – they’ve been out since last night.’
    ‘Then we’d better get on over there.’
    Just then the sitting-room door opened and a man came in behind them, a very tall, slim man with a mane of iron-grey hair swept back from his face – an interesting face, with a slightly crooked nose and grey eyes so light they were almost silver. The black jeans and black granddad shirt he wore made him look taller still.
    ‘Oh, sorry, Gil!’ He had a faint American accent. ‘Am I interrupting something, or—’ He broke off. Stared. Then said, ‘Good God – Madge !’
    Slowly, Fleming turned her head and for a moment time slipped. She could hear the thump, thump, thump of the heavy bass, taste the astringent burn of smoke in her throat. The air was thick with it, blue-grey wisps floating in the beam of the rigged-up spotlight. There was a sickly-sweet, decadent edge to it too, as well as the rawer smell of beer and sweat and youth itself in the cramped back room of the pub. The band was coming to the raucous end of the last number now, its signature tune, ‘And the Walls Came Tumbling Down’, and for a moment she had almost thought they would.
    ‘Joss? But – but you’re in America!’ she said stupidly.
    ‘Evidently not.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘So, how’s it been, these last twenty-odd years?’

4
    With Calum on her hip, Maidie Buchan was stirring the soup for lunch when her husband came in. He was wet, dirty and visibly shaken.
    He said nothing, only crossing to the cupboard where the whisky was kept and collecting the bottle and a large tumbler, then sitting down heavily at the kitchen table and filling the glass to the top.
    ‘What’s – what’s wrong?’ Maidie faltered.
    Alick swallowed, grimaced, then said, ‘Where is she?’
    ‘Beth? She’s . . . out.’ It wasn’t the moment to tell him it was his mother who had driven her out. Not that he’d care, anyway: Ina was smart enough to treat her son with wary respect, and the money she paid for her keep was more important to him than whatever burden it might place on his wife.
    ‘You know she said her partner wasn’t there? Well, he was.’
    Maidie’s eyes widened. ‘Dead?’
    ‘Dead. Could barely see him for plaster and rubble. But who was it had to go in there and check he’s really dead, with the house ready to come down any minute?’ A shudder ran through him. ‘Not Himself, that’s for sure – wouldn’t sully his hands. Like last time. Oh, he’s still got me doing his dirty work, even though I’m not under orders now. One day I’ll tell him what he can do with this lousy job.’
    That was a threat so familiar that Maidie barely heard it. ‘Oh, poor, poor Beth! Was there anyone else? What’s actually happened?’
    ‘There’s a young couple with a bairn – they were all right – and a woman that’s hurt her leg. The end cottages weren’t so bad. The other two are wrecks, basically – hers is one of them. Roof’s stoved in, stairs smashed. The police were there, won’t let anyone move the body out till they’ve done their stuff. And what’s bugging me is, where’s the girl going to go? Has she family or that?’
    Maidie said stiffly, ‘No, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t. She’ll have to stay here till she gets something sorted out, Alick.’
    He glared at her. ‘That’s what I was afraid of. We end up having to pick up the pieces. Why does it always happen