6 The Queen of Scots Mystery by Cecilia Peartree Page A

people would have passed by on the other side. I don’t know why you’re always so suspicious of me.’
    ‘Ha!’ he said. ‘ Lucky for you Mr Smith isn’t on the case.’
    ‘Oh, yes, Mr Smith. I might be picketing the police station on his behalf soon. If only he would make up his mind if he really wants to get back to work with you or not. He might do, if he thinks this case is interesting enough.’
    ‘Well, it’s interesting all right,’ said Keith Burnet, forgetting to be discreet , as she had hoped he would forget. ‘There’s Neil Macrae trying to protect Mrs Johnstone, and Jackie the barmaid giving her an alibi before we even knew she needed one. But I’m saying too much.
    ‘That’s all right, I won’t remember it anyway by tomorrow,’ said Amaryllis, manufacturing a yawn and wishing she had brought a notebook and pencil with her. The voice recorder on her mobile would have to do instead. She surreptitiously switched it on in her pocket. ‘It must be hard work for you – questioning people all day and then being stuck on night shift too.
    ‘It’s been exhausting,’ sighed Keith, leaning against the wall of the pub. ‘It isn’t just those three. There’s the ex-wife in Aberdour. And her husband. We’re pulling them in tomorrow for questioning. They all might have reasons for doing away with him. Or it could all have been a horrible accident. It’s anybody’s guess, Ms Peebles… You won’t tell anybody I told you this, will you?’
    ‘If I tell them I’ll have to kill them,’ promised Amaryllis. She decided that was a good exit line. He was still leaning on the wall trying to puzzle it out as she dived across the road and back into the cobbled lane she had come from.
    She was cautiously pleased with her night’s work.
     

Chapter 12 In limbo
    The police unexpectedly decided to release Neil on bail at lunch-time on Tuesday. Constable Burnet, who had dark circles under his eyes and confessed to having been up most of the night, indiscreetly told him it was only because they were bringing in some more people to interview and they were running out of space and would have to hand the whole case over to Dunfermline if they were seen not to be coping. The lawyer said it was because they couldn’t make up their minds what to charge Neil with.
    He wasn’t allowed to re-open the pub, of course, and he couldn’t even go back to his flat. Instead he was supposed to go and stay with Jock McLean.
    He wasn’t even particu larly friendly with Jock McLean; it was just that he had no family closer than Newcastle, he couldn’t think of anybody else who might be willing to put him up for a few nights, and he grudged paying a hotel bill, particularly when the only hotel in or near Pitkirtly was one of these plastic American chains where you would pay over the odds for a pint of dishwater in the bar.
    ‘I don’t know what made you think of me,’ grumbled Jock, as they made their way round to his house from the police station. ‘We hardly even know each other.’
    ‘I’ll go somewhere else if you want,’ said Neil. ‘But I had to give an address to the police or they wouldn’t have let me out.’
    ‘No, it’s fine,’ said Jock, obviously using the word ‘fine’ in the fem inine sense of ‘completely unacceptable and whenever I get the chance I'm going to make your life extremely unpleasant.’ Neil knew that usage well from his time with Andrea. ‘Christopher’s got his hands full with Charlie Smith and the dog, and Amaryllis is only just back. I suppose you could have gone to Jemima and Dave, but she’d drive you mad with her tablet and her clootie dumplings and her pease brose.’
    ‘Hmm, nice,’ said Neil politely. ‘Charlie Smith and the dog?’ he enquired.
    ‘He’s been thrown out of the police. Well, suspended. Christopher’s looking after him. I expect Amaryllis will take on that case too. She likes to have plenty on her plate.’
    ‘Talking of plates, can we stop and get