The Spy Who Came Out of the Bushes

By Cecilia Peartree

This is the 20th novel in the Pitkirtly Mysteries series.
Maisie Sue's wedding is disrupted by shadows from the past, while Christopher fights against the inexorable intrusion of the future into his working life, and once again Amaryllis is not the only spy in town.
Danger lurks both in the depths of the nearby forest and in Maisie Sue's own home, where visitors do not always stop to admire the curtains.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cecilia Peartree
• Release date: Apr 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463010150

Cecilia Peartree

Cecilia Peartree is the pen name of a writer from Edinburgh. She has dabbled in various genres so far, including science fiction and humour, but she keeps returning to a series of 'cosy' mysteries set in a small town in Fife.The first full length novel in the series, 'Crime in the Community', and the fifth 'Frozen in Crime are 'perma-free' on all outlets.The Quest series is set in the different Britain of the 1950s. The sixth novel in this series, 'Quest for a Father' was published in March 2017..As befits a cosy mystery writer, Cecilia Peartree lives in the leafy suburbs with her cats.

Book preview

The Spy Who Came out of the Bushes

(Pitkirtly Mysteries 20)

Cecilia Peartree

Smashwords edition

Copyright Cecilia Peartree 2020

All rights reserved

Cover image ID 170911763 © Jasminelove | Dreamstime.com

This novel, the 20th in the Pitkirtly Mystery series, is dedicated with heartfelt thanks to all the loyal readers who have stuck with me so far.

Contents

Chapter 1 Pink Roses and Panic

Chapter 2 Eating at the Ka De We

Chapter 3 Unicorn Doughnuts

Chapter 4 Wedding Nerves

Chapter 5 Families, Learning and Creativity

Chapter 6 Wedding of the Year

Chapter 7 Spectre at the Feast

Chapter 8 The Afternoon Before and the Morning After

Chapter 9 Blonde Bombshell

Chapter 10 Dodging the Press

Chapter 11 Cultural Discussions

Chapter 12 A Quiet Drink

Chapter 13 Blonde in Action

Chapter 14 The Weather Forecast

Chapter 15 An Expedition

Chapter 16 Missing

Chapter 17 Torture by Sticky Note

Chapter 18 In the Depths of the Forest

Chapter 19 Suspicion

Chapter 20 Last Bus to Pitkirtly

Chapter 21 The Weekend Starts Here

Chapter 22 New Intelligence

Chapter 23 Not a Quiet Sunday Indoors

Chapter 24 Bored Games

Chapter 25 Explosive Ideas

Chapter 26 Where in the World is old Mrs Macpherson?

Chapter 27 Maria goes Rogue

Chapter 28 Footsteps in the Forest

Chapter 29 Dog Whisperer

Chapter 30 Into the Lion’s Den

Chapter 31 Endgame or not?

Chapter 32 Hot on the Trail

Chapter 33 Only Part of the Story

Chapter 34 Waiting for the Siege

Chapter 35 The Answer was Here all the Time

Chapter 36 Treasure Hunt

Chapter 37 All You Need to Know

The End – Author’s Note

Chapter 1 Pink Roses and Panic

‘… and I’ve ordered a bouquet of pink roses,’ Maisie Sue was saying dreamily. She paused and frowned. ‘I guess they’ll have to be hot-house flowers, at this time of year. Or should we wait until summer? We could hold the ceremony on the beach, with waves lapping at the edges of the sand, and a canopy over us to keep the sun off.’

Ben, who had already had more than enough experience of Scottish weather, replied over his shoulder as he set the table by the window in readiness for the appearance of Jemima and Dave for their traditional morning scone, ‘Or the rain, dear.’

‘Reindeer? I wasn’t planning on having any animals at the wedding. But I guess that will work if we get some snow after all.’

‘If you want snow,’ he said, abandoning the table setting and advanced on her to envelop her in an affectionate hug, ‘then we’d better have the wedding in Canada instead.’

Maisie Sue smiled and patted his arm. ‘I wouldn’t want polar bears at the wedding either, Ben.’

‘It’s OK, honey, neither would I,’ said Ben.

There was a cough from the doorway, and they sprang apart.

‘It’s all right, carry on,’ said Dave, ushering Jemima into the café. ‘Don’t mind us. We’ve seen it all before.’

‘We can go away and come back, if you like,’ Jemima offered, but she took her usual seat at the window table, so Ben guessed she didn’t really mean it.

‘The sooner you two get married, the better,’ said Dave. ‘When’s the wedding again?’

‘Next Tuesday,’ said Maisie Sue.

‘I don’t blame you for not wanting to have it in the Cultural Centre,’ said Jemima. ‘After what happened the last time.’

The two women shuddered. Ben didn’t know what they were talking about but, having lived in Pitkirtly for a while now, he guessed it probably wasn’t anything good.

‘It wasn’t that so much,’ said Maisie Sue. ‘Christopher told me in confidence that there’s to be construction work starting soon.’

‘Construction work?’ said Jemima in a tone that sounded like ‘Why haven’t I heard about this?’

‘Oh, dear,’ said Maisie Sue. ‘I’d better let him tell you himself.’

‘We’ll go straight down there after we’ve had our coffee,’ said Jemima.

Half an hour later, having partaken more quickly than usual of their morning refreshments, Dave and Jemima left. Oh well, thought Ben, at least somebody else would get the chance to sit at the window for a change. He had sometimes thought Jemima drove potential customers away with her probably unintentionally fierce glare and tendency to remark loudly on anything unusual. Still, they were loyal friends of Maisie Sue’s and would be occupying a place of honour at the wedding.

‘When are you planning to tell them exactly where the ceremony’s going to be held?’ he asked her.

She giggled in that girlish way he enjoyed so much. ‘I thought it would be neat not to say anything until we get there next Tuesday. When the coach draws up at the venue, they’ll know anyway.’

There was a click at that moment as something dropped through the letterbox and fell on the mat.

Maisie Sue dashed over to pick it up. She stood for a moment or two staring at it, before taking it behind the counter with her. He couldn’t see what she did with it after that. It was odd that she wouldn’t want to open it and read it right away. It might be from her mother-in-law in the States. Ben had only caught a glimpse of it but he thought it had the red and blue edging of an airmail envelope.

She had been reluctant even to tell her mother-in-law about the wedding, in fact Ben had had to talk her into writing a letter. He had tried to get her to send an email at first, but she had claimed her mother-in-law didn’t know how to use a computer, which was also why they had never communicated with each other on social media or Skype either.

She had even got a bit edgy with him about the whole thing.

‘I don’t know why you’re so bothered about it!’ she had said. ‘She didn’t want anything with me after the divorce, and it’s nothing to do with her that we’ve got together. Why should she even care?’

‘It seems only right, that’s all,’ he had said.

It had felt right at the time, but now that he had seen her reaction he wasn’t sure if it had been.

He tried to dismiss it from his mind. After all, Maisie Sue must have family and friends back home he didn’t know about, who could have written to wish her well. The letter didn’t have to have come from her mother-in-law.

But then, maybe she just didn’t want to be reminded of Pearson Macpherson. From the little she had told Ben about him, he sounded like a nasty piece of work and she was better off out of their marriage.

After that there was what passed for the morning rush in the café, and then the lunchtime rush, so it wasn’t until around two o’clock that afternoon that he came out of the kitchen, noticed her fiddling with something behind the counter, and realised she was opening the letter.

‘Well, damn!’ she exclaimed.

‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’

‘Nothing,’ she said after a pause.

There was a rustling as she tried to squeeze the letter back into its envelope. He approached the counter, uncertain about whether she would throw it at him in a fit of temper. She had never done such a thing before, but you never knew with women. At least Ben never knew, not having a huge amount of experience with them. He hadn’t even had a sister to compare anyone else with, and his mother, now deceased, had been the kind of buttoned-up person who would no sooner have displayed emotion than she would have gone out to the mall without first putting on lipstick. He had always supposed he had inherited his love of secrets and intrigue from her. But all that was behind him now, of course, and he mustn’t forget that. He knew Amaryllis had figured him out, but she had never said any more about it so he had been lulled into a sense of security he hoped wasn’t false. He wasn’t sure if there was a section in the civil wedding ceremony about there being any reason for the couple not to marry, but he occasionally had nightmares about Amaryllis interrupting at that point with some tale she had dug up from his past.

He must ask Maisie Sue if she knew what would happen at the ceremony. He hadn’t liked to ask until now, in case she imagined he was looking for a get-out. He had a sense that she felt quite uncertain about the whole thing.

‘It isn’t nothing,’ she said now in a subdued tone.

‘I guessed it wasn’t. Come on, have a coffee and we’ll talk about it before things pick up again around here.’

There was usually a sort of lull before the afternoon customers arrived. They were mostly people who had just got off the bus after going shopping in Dunfermline, and who needed sustenance before heading on home up the High Street. Occasionally Dave and Jemima came in again at about four, just as Ben was hoping they could lock up early.

He fetched coffee for himself and Maisie Sue, and they sat for a while at the small table near the kitchen where Ben usually added up the day’s takings and filled the totals in on a spreadsheet he had set up for the purpose. It was the only time he felt genuinely useful in the café, apart from when he took the rubbish out or loaded the dishwasher.

‘It’s Pearson’s mother,’ said Maisie Sue, before he had even sat down.

‘What’s she done, honey?’ He put his hand over hers on the table.

‘I wrote to her – you already know about that.’ She didn’t say it was Ben’s fault, but he felt guilty anyway. ‘Well.’ She took a deep breath. ‘She’s written back.’

‘I guessed she had.’

‘She told Pearson. She says he’s coming over personally from Gdansk.’

‘Coming over?’

Maisie Sue nodded, tears starting to fill her beautiful blue eyes. ‘For the wedding.’

‘Coming to the wedding?’

She nodded.

‘Why would he want to do that, I wonder,’ said Ben slowly.

‘I don’t know!’ wailed Maisie Sue. ‘I haven’t even invited him!’

‘Of course not, sweetheart.’

‘I haven’t had anything to do with him for years. I swear. I just signed the divorce papers and that was that. He has his blonde floozy now.’

‘He wouldn’t be planning on making trouble, would he?’

Maisie Sue dried her tears and sat up straight. ‘He’d just better not be, that’s all. I’ll give him more trouble than he knows what to do with!’

‘That’s it, honey,’ said Ben, but a little uneasily. He had enjoyed a quiet life with Maisie Sue for a while now, and he was getting to like it. He couldn’t imagine why her ex would want to come to the wedding. To show that bygones were bygones? To give her an extravagant gift? Neither seemed all that likely.

‘Have I got time for a coffee before the schools come out?’ said an anxious voice from the doorway. It was the girl from the library. He couldn’t recall her name, but she almost always seemed to be rushing about in a panic.

Ben gave her a lopsided grin and drawled, ‘Take a seat, honey. I’ll be with you momentarily.’

Chapter 2 Eating at the Ka De We

Amaryllis lost track of Pearson Macpherson inside the Zoo station. For a few panic-stricken moments she thought he might have actually gone into Berlin Zoo, which she considered was too quiet at this time of year and on this day of the week to provide cover. She hadn’t factored in the possibility of having to disguise herself as some sort of animal trainer either, so that was out of the question. Although it was quite a few years since she had last seen Pearson, she thought there was a good chance he might recognise her. Of course, their previous acquaintance had been the reason for them to send her here.

‘One last favour,’ a former contact had said when they met at the airport in advance of her previous trip. ‘And let’s just say it might go some way to making up for your unauthorised electronic activity across the pond. Our transatlantic cousins have long memories.’

‘I’d have thought all that sort of thing would have been erased when I left the service,’ Amaryllis grumbled.

‘Of course we’ve had it removed from the computer files,’ said the contact. ‘But you know as well as I do that old grudges die hard.’

She wished he hadn’t mentioned dying. It would have been annoying, to say the least, to die on active service when her career was officially well and truly over.

‘On the other hand, we might be able to persuade certain people to delete it all from their memories if you do this one thing.’

She still wasn’t entirely convinced the slate would be blank afterwards. But on the other hand, finding the dirt on Pearson might be satisfying. After all, he had done something unforgiveable to Maisie Sue. He deserved anything that was coming to him. Not that she expected anything fatal to come to him. He would doubtless have a miraculous escape from retribution. He was that kind of man. Anyway, by that time she would be well out of the way and would have no part to play in his demise. Apart from doing this, of course.

Just as she had almost given up hope of finding him – there were several different exits from the station, as well as interchanges with other lines, and he could have used any of them – she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure heading for the Ku’damm exit.

There were parts of Berlin that Amaryllis recognised from her first visit there during her basic training, which had taken place more years ago than she cared to recall, and other parts that had changed more than she would have thought possible. She had made a short reconnaissance trip before Christmas, but they had assured her then that Pearson was still safely tucked up in bed in Gdansk, presumably in the company of his blonde floozy, and she had been able to concentrate on finding her way around. Of course that was just what they had told her. There was still the possibility that she herself was the target of the whole operation. But Amaryllis had not survived for as long as she had in her past career by taking unnecessary risks. She had behaved during that weekend as if she were living in a Cold War nightmare, ducking into the tourist shops at Checkpoint Charlie and out by back exits to evade imaginary pursuers, walking fairly long distances in preference to using the underground or buses, and only eating in crowded restaurants.

She wondered if Pearson had somehow observed her already, perhaps lurking outside his hotel near Alexanderplatz or even on the tram from there to Museuminsel. She had taken the precaution of removing her coat and carrying it, which she knew was a risk because no-one in their senses would want to be without a coat in those temperatures. She wished she had brought a reversible coat with her. She did have a head-scarf in her pocket, but she was saving that for emergencies.

Ahead of her, Pearson crossed the road by the memorial church, but he didn’t walk along the Ku’damm itself, instead turning off along another street. Amaryllis guessed his destination before he arrived there. He was dawdling along, so she took a risk and passed him and entered the Ka De We department store as if she had always been planning to go there.

As predicted, he appeared in the entrance a few moments later. Where would he choose to meet his contact? Again she made a guess, and set foot on the first escalator ahead of him.

They progressed right up to the buffet restaurant as she had expected. She hoped he would stay there for long enough to eat. It had been a while since breakfast. She didn’t join the queue to buy food but instead sat down at a table where a man and woman were already deep in conversation. She smiled and greeted them. They glared at her and said something she pretended not to hear.

Aha! Pearson had made contact. He came round from the serving area accompanied by another man, and they were both carrying trays.

Just as Amaryllis was debating with herself whether she too could spare the time to eat, and whether in that case they would notice if she moved to a table closer to theirs, she heard a voice from the past, and it was too close for comfort, just by her left ear to be exact.

‘Why, Ms Peebles, I surely didn’t expect to have the pleasure of meeting you here!’

Every bad word Amaryllis had ever known echoed round the inside of her head.

She had completely failed.

This was no way to compose a triumphant coda to her spying career.

She glanced up at him. He wore a smug smile and didn’t look a day older than he had the last time she saw him.

‘I guess since we’re here on business I can’t very well ask you to join us for lunch,’ he continued. ‘It’s been great, though. My best to your – um – controller.’

He walked off to join his colleague who was waiting at their table, on the fringe of the restaurant near the escalators.

Amaryllis tried to stop herself from grinding her teeth. Well, at least she could now more or less confirm that Pearson was still an active agent. He would never have been able to take her by surprise like that if he hadn’t been. There was still the question, however, of which side he was working for these days. The colleague could have been anyone.

She might as well have something to eat now after all. The condemned woman eating a hearty lunch.

Pearson gave her a cheery wave as he and his companion were leaving. She frowned. There were all sorts of possibilities. Her controller, as the American had called him, might have set her up to fail at this task, most likely because he had decided to manipulate someone into doing something. The question was, did he have Pearson Macpherson in his sights, or Amaryllis Peebles, or someone else whose existence neither of them even suspected? One of the Russians, perhaps. It was rumoured they were just as active in Berlin as they had been since the war, only in a slightly different way. They were no doubt active in Gdansk too. Pearson’s blonde might have been a Russian agent all along, for all Amaryllis knew.

She slapped her hand down on the table, making all the plates rattle and causing a woman in an ill-fitting and unflattering straggly ginger wig who had sat down at the far end to glare at her censoriously as soup splattered in the direction of her silk blouse.

It should have been obvious to her all that they hadn’t wanted her for any of her real skills after all this time! She was only a puppet, a washed-up has-been