I settled in my chair and tipped the last of the goldie down my neck. As the whisky burn hit my stomach I sensed another strange glow, something I hadn’t felt since my last visit to the nick… it was the return of the feeling that I might crack this case. I could see Jonny Johnstone being cuffed and stuffed in the back of a van — quite an eye-opener that would be for him. But the shiny-arsed little ponce had it coming. I knew now this was more than just a matter of stiffing me to better ingratiate himself with Debs, or, for that matter, to boost his self-worth to make him feel better than his future wife’s ex-husband. Jonny was up to his neck in some serious trouble. I didn’t know where any of this was leading but I felt charged with fire to find out. Whoever Jonny was protecting knew exactly who had murdered Moosey, and why. I’d make it my life’s mission to discover who that person was, and just what the fuck they had over Jonny Johnstone.
As I stood up, the girl behind the bar screamed.
It was an ear-splitting scream, the kind of noise that cuts straight to some deep-rooted primeval instinct.
I ran to her. ‘Jesus, girl, what’s the matter?’
She was trembling, staring straight out the window at the front of the bar. ‘They just drove off…’
I lifted the bar top and walked round beside her. Some people had come from the kitchen now. ‘What is it?’ I said.
‘The car, the car…’ She pointed to the window.
As I looked out my own life seemed to flash before my eyes. Tupac was lying in a heap in the middle of the road. I left the girl shaking, ran out of the pub.
Two American tourists were standing by the side of the road. A tall man stood over Tupac, trying to loosen off his collar. By the time I reached the road the man had removed his jacket and placed it under Tupac’s head.
‘Tupac… Tupac, can you hear me?’ I put my hand on his face, he was cold. He didn’t seem to be breathing.
‘Someone should call an ambulance,’ said the tall man.
One of the Americans appeared at my back. It was the woman. ‘Oh my God… Oh my God!’ She kept repeating the words over and over.
‘Would you shut the fuck up, woman!’ I yelled. The other American came and led her away.
‘What happened?’ I said.
‘A car just knocked him into the air… It was parked over there.’ The tall guy pointed to the car park. ‘You should have seen the reek off the tyres — he must have been waiting for him… Knocked him right into the air he did.’
I looked at Tupac, he was turning blue. I tried to encourage him round by gently tapping at his cheeks, but he didn’t respond. There was blood seeping from his mouth and a pool behind his head.
‘Where’s the fucking ambulance?’ I yelled.
I stood up, I couldn’t bear to look at him any more. I walked to the edge of the road and back again. A crowd formed around the dirty, unwashed heap in the road that was Tupac. I approached the tall man, pulled him aside. ‘Did you see the car?’
‘Yes, yes, I saw it all…’
‘What kind of car was it?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, a small one… white. Quite an age I think but well looked after.’
‘Was it a Corrado?’
‘I couldn’t say, yes, maybe… oh, I don’t know.’
I started to get frustrated with him. ‘What do you mean, you don’t fucking know?… You know what a Corrado looks like, surely.’
He backed away from me. He had a look in his eye that said he felt I was deranged. ‘I really couldn’t say.’
I caught his arm, pulled him back. ‘What about the driver?’
‘I didn’t see the driver.’ He was edging away again, stepping backwards.
‘Just tell me if it was a male or a female driver.’
‘I couldn’t say… I really couldn’t say.’
I was frantic now, burst it: ‘You really are a lot of fucking use, you lanky streak of piss.’
The man took one more look at me and just about sprinted off to the car park. I started to grab people at random. ‘Did you see the driver?… What about you?… Did anyone see the driver?’
The American woman called out, ‘It was a young man, a young man was driving the car. He had a hood on but I could see his face clearly
… It was a young man driving the car and he drove over that poor guy with a grin on his face.’ She started to cry, was comforted by the guy with her. ‘I’ll never forget the way he looked for the rest of my life.’
I wanted to scream out. To punch someone, to kill.
The ambulance came belting down Corstorphine Road, blue lights blazing, siren blaring. I pushed through the crowd. Tupac’s face was almost black now. A middle-aged woman was holding his hand. I crouched down beside him, whispered, ‘Tupac, mate, here’s the cavalry… You’re going to make it. You’re going to make it.’
As I said the words the woman put down Tupac’s hand, placed it over his chest and stood up. ‘Son, he’s already gone.’
I stayed there on the ground.
‘Son,’ the woman said, ‘the old man’s gone…’ She rested her hand on my shoulder and spoke in the kindest of tones. ‘Come away, lad
… There’s nothing you could have done.’
As I stood up two paramedics ran from the ambulance. One held a red medical case and the other a folded-up stretcher. I watched for a few moments as they worked around Tupac on the road. It didn’t take them long before they started to shake their heads.
I felt like sand had been poured in my limbs. I was rigid, unmoving.
A red blanket was placed over Tupac’s head. The paramedics placed him on the stretcher and lifted him up. He looked a surprisingly light load… not much to him under all those layers of clothes.
‘Stop,’ I said as the stretcher was carried away. I reached under and touched Tupac’s small hand. It was cold as stone. I’d only known him a few hours but that was long enough for him to have touched my soul.
My Adam’s apple rose and fell involuntarily. Everything had happened so fast, I just couldn’t take it in. ‘Tupac, I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry.’