MacTavish & Scott - The Missing Gardener E-Book

Gitta Edelmann

• Herausgeber: Bastei Entertainment
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 213

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Finola has just moved to Edinburgh and she’s more than a little excited. After turning her whole life upside down, she’s now a detective and her first case is not long in coming. At first, she's only supposed to find out if Amanda, a friend of her boss Anne, is being cheated on by her husband. But when Amanda's uncle disappears unexpectedly, Finola quickly travels to the west coast of Scotland to follow up on a lead, even though Anne suddenly insists on taking over the case herself. What began as a harmless search for a missing gardener soon becomes a matter of life and death - for Finola too!

About the series:

Young Scot Finola MacTavish has moved from the picturesque Isle of Skye to Edinburgh to work as a private detective in Anne Scott's agency. Along with computer whiz Lachie, the two lady detectives solve a series of baffling cases. Finola soon realises that she has a knack for investigation and shadowing people - preferably in disguise. What's more, she always has her granny's herbal medicine to hand, and the drops in question are much more than just a headache remedy ...

About the author:

Gitta Edelmann worked as a translator in Bonn, Rio de Janeiro, Freiburg and Edinburgh before moving back to the Rhineland, Germany. In addition to children’s stories and historical novels, she published a five-volume cosy crime series before starting on the mystery series MacTavish & Scott. The author also goes by the name of Lady of Glencoe and Lochaber as she owns a few square feet of land there.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

CoverimageAbout the bookAbout the authorTitlepageChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39PreviewCopyrightpage

MacTavish & Scott - The Lady Detectives of Edinburgh: The Series

Young Scot Finola MacTavish has moved from the picturesque Isle of Skye to Edinburgh to work as a private detective in Anne Scott's agency. Along with computer whiz Lachie, the two lady detectives solve a series of baffling cases. Finola soon realises that she has a knack for investigation and shadowing people – preferably in disguise. What's more, she always has her granny's herbal medicine to hand, and the drops in question are much more than just a headache remedy …

About this episode

Finola has just moved to Edinburgh and she’s more than a little excited. After turning her whole life upside down, she’s now a detective and her first case is not long in coming. At first, she's only supposed to find out if Amanda, a friend of her boss Anne, is being cheated on by her husband. But when Amanda's uncle disappears unexpectedly, Finola quickly travels to the west coast of Scotland to follow up on a lead, even though Anne suddenly insists on taking over the case herself. What began as a harmless search for a missing gardener soon becomes a matter of life and death – for Finola too!

About the author

Gitta Edelmann worked as a translator in Bonn, Rio de Janeiro, Freiburg and Edinburgh before moving back to the Rhineland in Germany. In addition to children's stories and historical novels, she published a five-volume cosy crime series before starting on the mystery series MacTavish & Scott. The author also goes by the name of Lady of Glencoe and Lochaber as she owns a few square feet of land there.

The Missing Gardener

Chapter 1

“This is Church Hill, hen,” shouted the bus driver to Finola as he turned left.

“Thank you very much!”

Thank goodness she had asked the driver to let her know when they reached Church Hill, because she definitely wouldn't have recognised the bus stop. True, she'd only been to Morningside in Edinburgh once before, and that time it had rained so heavily that she'd taken a taxi to avoid turning up to the interview looking like a drowned rat.

The bus doors opened, and Finola joined the other passengers getting off at her stop.

“Thanks again,” she said to the bus driver.

He tilted his head and grinned. “I hope your rucksack isn't too heavy. I'd help you carry it if I could!”

Finola simply laughed in response, before stepping down onto the pavement with a cheerful “Bye!” She glanced at her wristwatch. Hmm. She was later than she'd hoped, despite the journey from Canterbury having gone relatively smoothly. In London, her plane had been a good half hour late taking off, and at the airport in Edinburgh, the bus to the city centre had left right under her nose. Still, there hadn’t been any other issues, and it helped that she more or less knew her way around Edinburgh.

She crossed the road. Over there –– that had to be Albert Terrace, which meant she'd almost made it.

But when she reached the narrow side street just around the corner and read the street sign, it said Abbotsford Park. What?! Further ahead, the road forked. Could Albert Terrace be up there? But which of the two streets would it be? Or had she gone completely wrong?

Finola pulled her mobile phone out of her jacket pocket. After all, what was your GPS for, if not this?

“Damn it!” The display of her phone was completely black; it seemed that the battery hadn't survived the journey.

At that moment, someone collided with her rucksack so hard that Finola stumbled and fell against a nearby wall, barely managing to keep herself upright.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” cursed a female voice.

Finola turned around warily. A small white box lay on the tarmac in front of her feet, and next to it stood a young woman with curly red hair, carrying two larger white boxes in her arms. She looked rather distressed.

“I'm terribly sorry, I didn't see you. I'm in a hurry and there's never normally anyone else here. Oh dear, I hope they're all right …” The woman tried to bend down without dropping the remaining two boxes.

“Wait a minute.” Finola came to her aid, getting down on her knees and picking up the fallen box. As she took it in her hands, she was able to make out the logo on its top: Laurie's.

“Can you just put it on here –… Oh wait, I’ll need to have a look first –… Would you please –…” The redhead grimaced.

Curious, Finola opened the lid for her. “Cupcakes?”

Three small buns with bright blue wavy icing and tiny colourful fish lay next to two others decorated with red roses and butterflies.

“Uh-huh.” The young woman nodded and inspected the cupcakes carefully. “I'm Laurie from Laurie's Café,” she explained. “And these cupcakes are urgently needed for a birthday party.”

“They look pretty good. Shall I put this box on top of the others?” Finola asked.

“Yes, minus one.”

Finola looked at her questioningly.

“The blue one in the corner has taken a hit. Can you get it out, please? I wouldn't dare show up with that. Better to say I've miscounted and go back for some more. You can have it. Sorry again. I have to go now.”

As soon as Finola had taken out the cupcake and placed the closed box on top of the other two, Laurie clamped everything down with her chin and hurried on.

“Just a minute –– can you tell me where Albert Terrace is?” Finola called after her.

“Straight ahead! Oh, and you’re welcome to drop by my café on Morningside Road, just a short walk up from the library —” With that, Laurie took the right fork and disappeared behind a hedge.

Finola took a bite of the cupcake Laurie had given her. A little too sweet for her taste, but somehow a nice pick-me-up for the chat she was about to have.

 –

Chapter 2

Before she stepped through the open garden gate, Finola took a deep breath. She was about to take the first step into her new job and her new life! The setting September sun cast golden rays on the gravel path leading to the house. Finola took this as a good omen.

In fact, ever since Mr Reginald had remembered her in his will, her life seemed to have taken a turn for the better.

A glance at her wristwatch told her that she was just on time, despite the collision with Laurie. She climbed the stone steps to the burgundy-coloured front door. The brass door knocker didn’t bear the familiar lion's head, but that of an Indian elephant instead. Many hands seemed to have touched the elephant's head, as the engraving on its headdress was distinctly worn away in the centre. Might that make it a lucky charm?

Finola hesitated. There were two doorbells to the right of the door, one labelled A. S., and the other MWS Investigators. Should she ring the bell? Or should she knock?

Slowly raising her hand, she was surprised to see that it was trembling slightly. Was she really that nervous?

Before she could actually knock though, the door opened.

“There you are!” Finola's new employer stepped to the side. “Come on in. You can leave your rucksack here in the hallway; we'll go to the office first. The room upstairs is ready, and your nice Brazilian friend has already dropped off your two boxes of stuff this morning.”

Finola said hello to her new boss, then let the black trekking rucksack slide off her shoulders, before leaning it against the wall and following the lady straight through a set of double doors into a spacious office.

There was a black nameplate with white lettering on the desk, as well as a large pile of files and a laptop. The nameplate read, simply: Anne Scott.

“Tea? Coffee?” asked Anne Scott, gesturing to a seating area with three burgundy armchairs and a round table on which two colourful cups and a plate of shortbread had been placed.

“I'd love a cup of tea.” Coffee would only make her heart beat even faster.

Anne Scott turned round and switched on a kettle that sat on top of a cupboard. The water immediately began to boil –– there was no mistaking that Finola had been expected to arrive on time.

“Milk, sugar?” asked Anne Scott.

“A little milk, no sugar, please.”

“That's how I take my tea, too.” Smiling and carrying a teapot and a small jug of milk, she joined Finola at the table and sat opposite her at a slight angle. “It needs to steep for a moment.”

Finola nodded and had a closer look at the woman in the plain grey dress. She estimated Anne Scott to be in her mid to late fifties. Tall, and neither overweight nor slim, she wore her grey hair cut short and –– apart from a touch of berry-coloured lipstick –– she had obviously not used any make-up. The overall impression she gave was one of a serious and confidence-inspiring person –– just like the boss of MWS Investigators!

Finola tried to pull her denim miniskirt a little further down towards her knees. Ideally, she would have changed into something else before her first chat with Anne Scott, but at least her ash-blonde ponytail and black shirt were inconspicuous.

“Did you have a nice holiday?” Anne Scott asked, pushing the plate of biscuits closer to Finola.

“Yes, thank you. In fact, my friends' garden party turned out to be their wedding reception.” Finola helped herself to a piece of shortbread.

“Oh, how lovely.”

After a bit more small talk and a few sips of tea, Anne Scott got down to business. “I've already told you that customers have become slightly thin on the ground for the detective agency since the death of my husband, and that I’m waiting to see how things will play out in the long term. I hope that in the next three months, together we'll manage to put the business on a stronger footing. If that happens, nothing should stand in the way of your continued employment.”

She waited until Finola had nodded, then continued, “Fortunately, one branch of the business is already doing quite well. Our Lachie is a wizard on the computer when it comes to finding old friends, absconded husbands or the true identity of a catfisher.”

“Catfisher?”

“Someone who uses the internet to try and establish a relationship with another person under a false identity.”

Finola nodded.

“But, in theory, you won't have anything to do with that. As I've already told you, I mainly need you to work in the field.”

Finola nodded again.

“I've got something for you to start on right away –– a potentially unfaithful husband.”

“You want me to shadow him?”

“We prefer to call it “observation” here; we're not in the crime fiction business.”

“Of course. So, you want me to observe this man. Right now?”

“No, no, from tomorrow, of course. You have to settle in first! I hope everything upstairs is to your liking. I'll show you the kitchen in a moment.” Anne Scott rose to her feet.

Finola quickly finished what was left of her tea and followed her boss out of the office. They turned left and walked down a side corridor, then past a locked door.

“Lachie's office,” Anne Scott explained, “but he's finished for the day.”

She opened the door at the end of the corridor, switched on the light and ushered Finola into a spacious kitchen/living area. A vase of colourful garden blooms stood on an imposing old wooden dining table, around which were arranged various chairs in vibrant shades. The white kitchen cupboards were sleek and modern, while the large AGA cooker gleamed in dark green.

“These days it's actually considered very wasteful in terms of energy,” explained Anne Scott when she saw the look on Finola's face, “but I've had this new programme installed so that you can switch it off when necessary. You’ll see, it's worth its weight in gold in winter …” She cleared her throat. “Shall we go upstairs?”

The woman suddenly looked slightly sheepish, which took her newest employee by surprise. It was true that Finola might well be gone by the winter. But that wasn't Anne Scott's fault –– after all, Finola had willingly agreed to the three-month trial period. Admittedly, her basic salary was rather low, perhaps even paltry. But Anne Scott had also offered her a room in her house with a private bathroom and use of the kitchen and garden; an arrangement which wasn’t to be sniffed at in the well-to-do neighbourhood that was Morningside. The deal was favourable for both of them, as the room, formerly the realm of Anne Scott's eldest son, was empty anyway. Finola would also receive a commission for her cases.

Taking one last look at the glass door that led from the kitchen to the garden, Finola nodded. “Yes, that would be nice. I'd like to freshen up a bit.”

“Of course. I shouldn't have kept you … anyway, come with me.”

There it was again: a moment of hesitation. Anne Scott really didn't seem as confident as she’d first appeared. But the situation was foreign to both of them; living and working in the same house could well prove to be a challenge. It would probably be easier if they kept their distance to begin with.

The door to the room clicked quietly shut, and Finola was alone. At last! The journey had turned out to be exhausting.

She heaved her rucksack onto the bed and looked around. She had only seen the room briefly during her job interview three weeks ago, and remembered it being full of furniture, boxes and piles of books. A typical storage room, where Anne had probably packed away everything from around the house that had been getting in her way.

Now, Finola’s new home looked spacious and airy. The walls were painted white, and the bed was covered with a sky-blue throw, matching the rug on the grey carpet, with its blue and white stripes. Finola smiled involuntarily. So that's why Anne had asked her what her favourite colour was when she'd said yes to the job during their phone conversation. Apart from the bed and the desk chair, the furniture was visibly old and made of a sort of orange-red wood. Yew?

The wardrobe looked nice and roomy, and the rimless mirror next to it was practical. There was a chest of drawers, too, and, hanging above it, a small watercolour in shades of blue and green featuring the sea and some rocky islands. The desk was located under the window and had a bookshelf beside it. An armchair covered with a blue-and-white patterned throw, and a small triangular side table, completed the furnishings.

Beautiful. Finola smiled. She had feared that she'd have to live in one of those rooms where gaudy yellow or pink floral patterns set the tone.

She turned back to the bed and her rucksack, with the intention of unpacking her most important belongings straight away. There would be plenty of time for the rest later, including the two boxes that Antônio had brought by. Right now, she was desperate for a shower, but it wasn’t long before she was interrupted by a knock. Finola put the rolled-up shirts she had just pulled out of her rucksack on the bed and opened the door.

Anne Scott held a grey folder out to her. “I just wanted to bring you these documents. Perhaps you'd like to have a look tonight. Otherwise, we'll meet tomorrow in the office at nine o'clock sharp and talk about the exact procedures involved.”

Finola took the file from her boss’s outstretched hand. The sleeve of her grey dress had ridden up a little, revealing a white patch on Anne Scott's wrist. It looked like a splash of paint. Had she been redecorating elsewhere? Or was it Tippex from working in the office? It didn’t matter a jot to Finola, but the stain was conspicuous in view of Anne Scott's otherwise immaculate appearance.

“Thank you, Mrs Scott. Have a good evening.”

“Anne, please. I'm only Mrs Scott to my clients. And now I really will leave you alone.” She smiled, nodded and turned to go back down the stairs.

Finola closed the door and took a deep breath. Hopefully, that would be the last time her employer had reason to knock on her door tonight.

She placed the folder down on her bedside table, but picked it up again a few seconds later to read the name written in neat script on the small plastic tab: Erskine, Craig.

So, this was her first case as a private detective: An unfaithful partner called Craig!

 –

Chapter 3

Even in September, Edinburgh was still bustling with tourists, who seemed to be crowding the streets in particularly large numbers today, brought out by the welcoming, clear blue sky.

Finola was glad of this. She was wearing round, mirrored sunglasses under a black cap bearing the word Scotland, just like the American women she had seen yesterday when she arrived at the airport. Jeans and a T-shirt, a practical jacket, trainers, a light daypack and a large camera bag completed her tourist outfit.

She had to admit that it was exciting to be hanging around St Andrew Square pretending that, after a busy morning of sightseeing, she just wanted to relax a bit and look at the snapshots she'd taken on her camera. In reality, she was sitting within sight of the bank, preparing to observe her subject.

This new vocabulary made her grin involuntarily. Her current assignment couldn’t be more different from having conversations with elderly people about restricted movement and pain on the Isle of Skye. Although she had enjoyed helping her patients as a physiotherapist, she'd just never seen it as a job for life. She would have preferred to go into theatre, but in the end, she had decided she couldn’t seriously pursue an acting career.

Once again, Finola glanced discreetly at the front door of the bank. Craig Erskine should be coming out for his lunch break any minute now.

Last night, despite her fatigue, after a hot shower and the last, slightly squashed, chicken tikka sandwich from her rucksack, she had actually opened the Craig Erskine file.

The client was Amanda Erskine, and the subject her husband, Craig. Thirty-two years old, and good-looking according to the photo in the file. Dark hair, clean-shaven, with an open, friendly face. Well, she could imagine that women would be attracted to this man. And that he obviously liked women. But that didn't necessarily mean that Amanda’s suspicions were correct.

Finola was determined to approach the case without prejudice. On the other hand, she wasn’t born yesterday, and she’d seen several relationships fail in her twenty-eight years of life –– not least of all her own. Back then, she hadn't ever believed Robbie could —

There! Two men in black suits had just left the bank. The one on the left had light blonde hair, but the one on the right matched Craig Erskine's photo, as far as she could tell from this distance. They were chatting animatedly, paying no attention to the supposed tourist who was getting some useful shots of them with her camera. Zooming in, she was able to confirm the identity of the dark-haired man.

A young woman in a blue suit hurried after them, shouting something. The men turned around and waited until she had caught up with them. Then the three of them walked on together, the woman falling in line beside Craig Erskine. Finola immediately took another photo, before watching them turn off towards Princes Street and setting off after them.

None of the three looked behind them even once, making her task relatively easy. They entered Waverley Mall, picked up some lunchtime snacks in a bakery, came out again and strolled into Princes Street Gardens. It turned out to be their lucky day, as an elderly man with a walking stick had just got up and vacated one of the wooden benches along the path. Unfortunately, all the other benches in sight were occupied.

Finola stopped at the side of the path, took off her daypack and fiddled with it. She pulled out a guidebook to occupy herself for a while. Her position was favourable, with only about three metres separating her from the bench she was observing.

“Hitchcock may have been a brilliant director,” she heard the woman say, “but he treated his actresses terribly. Have you read Tippi Hedren's autobiography?”

“Do you always have to remind us how awful men are?” The blonde man's voice was tinged with irritation.

“Well, if it’s true …”

“Oh, shut up, Jess. I’m sick of hearing it. Why do you want to spend your lunch break with us anyway? After all, Craig and I are the bad guys.”

“Maybe you are,” Jess countered. “But Craig is one of the good ones.”

“Should I just leave you two alone then?” the blonde man asked smugly.

“Don't give me that rubbish, Dan,” said Craig.

“Oh yes, please!” Jess exclaimed at the same time.

Okay. This was a lead. Craig’s colleague Jess seemed to have a soft spot for him, as also evidenced by her posture as she sat next to him. Whether he reciprocated her feelings, on the other hand, was not so easy to tell. Obviously, he would be keen to keep a work affair secret.

As laboriously as possible, Finola put the guidebook back in her daypack and then walked unhurriedly past the bench where Craig and Dan were now talking about rugby. Jess sat next to them in silence, eating salad from a plastic box. There was now a clear distance between her and Craig.

There were still no benches free, but Finola found she could sit on the steps of the Scott Monument without losing sight of her target. Nothing productive came of it, though. After ten minutes, Jess left the two men, who carried on lounging in the sun and chatting for a while. Finola then followed them back to the bank from a safe distance, bringing her first surveillance operation to an end.

She was quite pleased with herself and her disguise, even if she hadn't solved the case yet. But that was hardly to be expected so soon. Now she could take a break until five o'clock, when Craig got off work. Amanda's file said that he normally took the number 11 bus back to Fairmilehead after work. That is, except on Fridays, when he went to the pub with a few workmates from the bank. There would probably be at least one young female colleague in the pub, which undoubtedly worried Amanda a lot more than if it were just a quick drink with the blonde colleague called Dan.

But today was Thursday so, according to the information in the file, there was no pub, gym or anything else on the agenda. And since Finola herself was living on the Fairmilehead bus route, the last part of her surveillance operation and the journey home were likely to be trouble-free. She could look forward to a quiet evening and an early night, with plenty of time to prepare for not only tailing Craig again tomorrow at lunchtime, but also ensuring she was in the same pub as he at happy hour.

Right now, though, it was time to go shopping. She was planning to buy a selection of clothes and accessories that would make her unrecognisable. Most importantly, a pair of glasses. Her large dark-brown eyes were probably her most striking feature. Maybe she'd also pick up some hair dye. Sometimes she missed the turquoise shade she'd flaunted until the summer but, of course, such a conspicuous look wasn’t appropriate now that she was working as a detective. Whichever tone she chose though, it had to be easy to wash out. Would food colouring work?

 –

Chapter 4

Anne looked up from her plate as Finola entered the kitchen to make herself some tea.

“You're back early.”

“Thursday is husband-at-home day, according to the file. And Craig Erskine did in fact go straight home on the bus after work. Tomorrow's going to be a longer one because he’ll be going to the pub.”

“How was it, anyway? Why don't you help yourself to some of the spaghetti –– I've cooked far too much again.”