HOD HAD SEEN FIT TO warn me about keeping the course. Staying on track. By that he meant: off the sauce. If he thought he had any sway with me on matters of general inebriation, my daily state, he was deluded. Knew he understood that he carried no such weight at all. Hod, for all the heart in him, had a hard enough head to take reality as it comes. Which, truth told, scared the shit out of me.
I’d never seen the bloke so down on his luck; Hod was the archetypal hunter-gatherer. A survivor. Seeing his life unravel like this was a heartscald. Worse, being his only hope just turned the knife in me. This was about as close to a volte-face as you could get – Hod was usually the one bailing out my arse. If it wasn’t buying the Holy Wall off me, it was subbing me the readies to take Debs down the aisle… and putting me up when our marriage hit the skids. Hod had pulled me through a few scrapes – it played heavy on my conscience at the best of times – but I’d never countenanced the possibility that I’d be asked to pay him back. Bastard picked his moments. There were times when I was together, stable, in the neighbourhood of happy, even. Christ, I’d had a gym membership once. But right now, at this particular point in time, I was about as lost as lost gets. If I could manage to keep myself together long enough to see the week out I’d be doing well. Felt a shiver run through me. A black crow swooped on the pavement, cawed. In a second it was off, vanished. Wondered if I’d seen it at all.
I schlepped past the Cameo, took myself into Victoria Wine and got in some essentials.
‘Half Grouse, half Black Heart,’ I said.
Young girl on the counter smiled; was a wry, pitying smile. Made my heart flutter, don’t know why. Was well past hitting on chicks. That required far too much energy – something that was in very short supply right now.
‘Anything else?’ She wore an Avengers T-shirt, retro-style, covering quite a set too.
My mind played a trick on me, said, ‘You know any good coffee shops around here?’
She blushed, thought I was gonna ask her for a date. ‘Erm, well… there’s the big Costa.’ She couldn’t keep eyes on me now, ran fingers through her black hair, tucked some behind her ear. God, I felt stupid… what was I thinking?
‘Okay, cheers… will give it a look.’
She turned to the till. Put that sympathy smile on again.
‘That’ll be-’
I cut in, ‘Oh, better give me forty Marlboro, too.’
‘No worries.’
She bagged the lot and I hoofed it up the street, cringing.
You spend your days alone, drinking – hard-core drinking – the finer points of human interaction become lost to you. I’d jettisoned all small chat long ago. If there was ever a store of pleasantries, nodding-dog patter, or plain-old mannered chit-chat… I’d bumped it. What I did have was a mine of rants. Bitter? Me? Christ on the Holy Cross… was I ever. Funny thing was, I’d never really bothered about it before now. I dredged up a line from some fucking daytime TV agony aunt or uncle: ‘Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom before you can bounce back.’ Had I fallen so low? The bottom of the pit couldn’t be that far away; whether I’d bounce when I hit it, though, that was the question. Way I felt right now, figured I’d just keep on falling straight through to the flames of hell.
Shook myself out of self-pity for long enough to order up a coffee in the big Costa. I saw what the chick in the offie meant, nice place indeed; but then, when you’ve driven every other coffee house within a country mile out of business, you can afford to be.
‘What can I get you, sir?’ said a lanky yoof, hefty bouffant giving off a bit of a New Romantic vibe there.
‘Coffee.’
A sigh. Was that a sigh? Surely not.
‘Hmm, we have latte, cappuccino, espresso-’
I held up a hand. ‘Whoa-whoa… spare me, eh? One white coffee, call it whatever you like, Prince Charming.’
He twisted his head, stuck out his neck like a giraffe going for low leaves. ‘What did you call me?’
‘Look, you have to remember… ridicule is nothing to be scared of!’
Handed over the cash, took a seat.
Was firing up the mobi contacts when the coffee came. Got it just about thrown at me, could see there being a gob or two in there. Like I gave a shit, took a sip and topped the lot up with my half-bottle of scoosh.
Found the number I was after. Wondered would it still be in use, figured it should, it hadn’t been that long since I’d spoken to Amy. With a bit of luck she’d be in the neighbourhood – her flat was around here – we needed to talk. Knew it would be the kind of conversation Hod wouldn’t approve of, but then he wasn’t running this show. Figured I could keep Amy’s involvement under the radar for a wee while at least until she’d proved useful… providing I could persuade her to help out that was.
Ringing.
A tightening in my chest – what was that? Conscience? Maybe. Perhaps Hod was right about keeping her out of this – the way she attracted trouble to herself. I needed the girl’s help, though. Told myself I’d keep a closer eye on her this time. Not let her get worked up with any radge ideas. That would do… surely.
Ringing.
‘Hello?’
She’d obviously cut me out of her contacts.
Said, ‘Hello, Amy.’
‘Gus… what in the fuck?’
I smiled into the phone. ‘Well, that’s quite the welcome.’
Got a laugh. It was a start.
‘Hey, if there’s one person I didn’t expect to hear from again, it’s your bold self… How’s it hanging, auld yin?’
This girl, I tell you, she had some moves.
‘To the left, yeah, that’d be right… Yerself?’
‘Just fucking peachy… Really good to hear from you, by the by, really good.’
Well, this was going all right… maybe a bit too well.
‘Look, reason I’m calling, Amy, is… well, I was wondering if you were about today?’
‘About? As in out and about?’
‘Yeah, y’know… for a chat.’
Silence on the line. Was that cogs turning? Had our Amy grown up a bit? Learned her lesson from hanging with me? I let the quiet gap stretch out, then heard: ‘A chat?’
Picked up a bit of derision in her tone; this was good. I was happy to hand her the moral high ground if it got me what I wanted.
‘Yeah, y’know, there’s some stuff that I thought you might-’
She cut in, ‘You asking me out, Gus?… That it?’
Fuck. Quandary. If I said yes, I was letting myself in for a whole heap of bother. If I said no, I risked bollixing it all up.
Played safe: ‘Well, what’s that mean these days, y’know… I mean… I was thinking it would be good to see you… to have a chat and that.’ Could feel myself begin to wince. ‘You still out Tollcross way?’
Another gap on the line.
Silence.
Then, a guffaw.
‘Yeah, I’m still on Lothian Road,’ she said.
‘Grand… grand… How do you fancy me treating you to a coffee, then?… I’m in Costa.’
Amy sparked up, ‘You treating me to a coffee… like, out the fucking blue, what’s that all about, Dury? You after something?’
‘Shit no. Y’know me, I drop off the radar now and again. Just thought it would be good to catch up, Ames.’
Day-glo-markered sarcasm: ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah… I know you!’
I tried to batten down the conversation, went for broke. ‘So, you coming or what? My shout.’
‘Why not? Student life’s been boring as fuck lately. Could do with some excitement, suppose!’
I laughed. ‘Can’t promise that.’
‘You don’t need to… trouble follows you around like bad aftershave. Get you in half an hour, Gus. I’ll dress for a night in the cells, just in case!’
Knew she was only joking; well, hoped she was. My conscience was already starting to wonder about what I was getting this girl into.
Young lad with the eighties vibe hovered. Carried a whiff of Stray Cats about him now – had been at the hair with some product. I wondered about this generation, by Christ I did. Amy, though, was slightly higher on the clued-up scale; by comparison this muppet hadn’t discovered fire yet.
‘I got something you want, lad?’
Bristles; got that shoulder-straightening thing. ‘Do you want another coffee?’
Threw him, ‘That’d be just grand. Thanks so much.’
I drained my cup, making sure there was no scoosh left sticking to the base. This close to Morningside, they tend to get a bit picky about things like that. Still, I was tweeded up, like they’d fucking mess.
‘Would you like anything with it?… We have jumbo cookies on special.’
Guess my look said that would be a no. He trotted off.
I had calls to make: was on the case, c’mon. There was never going to be a simple route to a solution, saw that coming a country mile off. There was more going on with Gillian Laird than I could suss right now, but from the off, I had her pegged. She might be calling the shots but there’d be a bit of groundwork done there too; knew where to start as well.
Got the contacts up. Felt a slight apprehension as I hovered over the name. We’d some history… had we ever. I knew Fitz the Crime was not the man to go to for favours; they had a strange way of coming back with bigger price tags on them than I could afford. He was filth, there was no way around that. But even filth needed to come into the real world, at least once in a while.
Dialled.
Ringing.
Hard-ass on reception, ‘Lothian and Borders Police…’
‘I’d like Fitzsimmons, please.’ If I knew his rank, I’d use it. But Fitz was flying through those stripes so fast there was no knowing where he’d be these days. Gave me some room to manoeuvre. The full-leather interior on that Lexus of his had been paid for with so much of my graft that I was entitled to a few privileges.
‘Fitzsimmons.’ Bit gruff. Tipping the hard-core edge in; nothing new there.
‘The man himself. How’s the cop trade?’
‘Jaysus, Dury… by the cringe!’
Always the grand welcomer from this man. You’d think I wasn’t one of his favourites. ‘Nice to hear from you too.’
Phone shuffling, few steps taken towards seclusion, away from prying ears. ‘Gus, this will never do… You know better than to call me here. By the holy… Is it my backside in a sling ye want?’
‘Look, Fitz, cool the beans, eh. It’s a social call.’
A loud laugh.
Huff.
Tut.
‘Jaysus, Dury… you’re a freckin’ gas… Will be on the beg you are, as sure as there’s a hole in yer arse!’
He had my number. But this wasn’t going too badly; I’d seen the day when a call to Fitz was met with something closer to a curt ‘get to fuck’. Phone slamming, perhaps. Could it be he was getting comfortable? Settled, maybe? There couldn’t be that much competition for him at the top. He needed to watch that, though: the air up there’s pretty thin, I hear.
Said, ‘A man can climb to great heights but he cannot dwell there long.’
Bit of a stammer: ‘What’s that, a riddle? Always with the riddles ye are, Dury.’
I smiled into the phone. ‘Close. A quote.’
‘Y’wha’?’
‘Never mind. Look, I’m sure you’re not the type to forget old friends, Fitz, but in case you’re thinking of coming the Big I Am-’
He put the volume up a notch, blasted, ‘Hang on, Dury, we’re well and truly quits, boyo. Don’t start playing the old pals act with me, don’t even be considering that now.’
I let the line fizz. Few seconds of static stretched out.
‘Okay, Fitz… I hear you. Truth told, I’m messing with you.’
A laugh; forced one. ‘Christ, there’s a first.’
I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. I could feel the muscles tightening in my throat. ‘But…’
‘Hah… I knew it. Isn’t there always one of them with ye!’
I battened it down, went Zen. ‘Fitz, we need to talk.’
‘Oh we do, do we now?’
‘I’m not fucking about here.’
‘Well, that’s another first.’
‘I’m serious. It’s Gillian Laird’s son… I’m on the case.’
I could almost hear him hissing. ‘Oh, feckin’ hellfire, Dury, what in the name of Christ are ye doing there?’
‘Look, Fitz, there’s more to this than-’
‘I have absolutely nothing to say.’ He spoke through clenched teeth, I pictured him squeezing the receiver. ‘I am not about to discuss official police business with you… not now, not ever.’
His voice was pitched for an audience. I put in the hook. ‘I have something for you.’
Silence. Then, ‘Like I say, I cannot discuss-’
‘Meet me on the Walk… Thursday lunchtime in Robbie’s Bar.’
‘There will be no meeting. The case is an official police matter and will proceed as such, in the proper manner!’
He clicked off.
I watched the call time flash. Broke three minutes: think it was a record.
My coffee came, fired down with a free dose of derision and a roll of eyes behind thatched fringe. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement; took up the coffee, drained a good slug and waved him along with the back of my hand. Little shitkicker was working on my last nerve. He pushed his luck any further with me, he’d be sampling one of those jumbo cookies… as a suppository.
Was turning the cap on my half-bottle when the door swung.
‘Fucking typical!’ said Amy.
‘Wha’?’
‘Jesus Christ… is it not a bit early for that?’
The only other drink I had was the Black Heart; if it was too early for the scoosh, it was definitely too early for the rum, said, ‘Don’t think so.’
She shook her head, ordered up a mineral water, sparkling one.
‘So, you been missing me, Gus?’
She had a beam on her that wouldn’t look out of place on a Seacat’s searchlight. Her smile fair dazzled me. ‘Yeah, something like that.’ I played up to her.
Amy sat, she wore black skinny jeans with a very high turn-up. As she crossed her legs her thigh made an arch beneath the denim. She was pretty toned. In case I doubted it she took off her jacket – top so tight I could count her ribs, and a couple of other protuberances. Jesus, she was looking fit. A warning light flashed behind my eyes; but I told myself there was no harm in looking. I could handle Amy. Sure I could.
‘Actually… I’m mixing business with pleasure,’ I said.
‘Pleasure…’ She rolled the word over her lips, pouted.
‘More business, really.’
She flung back her head, laughed, clapped her hands together. ‘Oh fuck, Gus, get over yourself. I’m only playing with you.’
I had a laugh at that myself. We’d broke the ice. Amy’s mineral water came. She twisted the cap, then tucked her dark hair behind her ear as she sipped.
‘You still at the uni?’ I asked.
She rolled her eyes, kept drinking. When she removed the bottle from her lips, she took a deep breath, said, ‘Uni… yeah, why?’
‘I’m on a case.’
Her expression hardened. ‘Oh, shit… not Bender Ben, is it?’
‘Come again?’
She put the cap on her water, leaned in. ‘Ben Laird… the actress’s son.’
‘You knew him?’
‘Knew of him… Total cock. Sorry to speak ill of the dead and all that but he was a fucking sleaze.’
I took a blast of whisky-laced coffee, said, ‘Sleaze?’
Amy rolled her eyes again and made a wanker gesture with her hand. ‘Y’know… spoiled little rich kid with a big fucking ego… thought himself the dog’s bollocks. He was one of those high-visibility twats, y’know the type.’
I sure did. ‘Flash arsehole?’
‘Got it in one.’
Amy looked out into the street, her eyes widening a little. ‘Still… couldn’t have been happy: hanged himself, didn’t he?’
I shook my head. ‘Official verdict was misadventure… erotic asphyxiation gone wrong.’
She didn’t bat a lid. ‘Yeah, right…’
‘What do you mean?’
She turned to face me. ‘You buying that? He was probably out his tits and nursing the realisation that everyone thought he was a complete prick.’
I could see I’d come to the right place. Amy was just the girl I needed to do a bit of digging around.
‘Ben’s friends and the like… you know them?’
‘Christ no… bunch of dicks. Posh twats with big ideas about themselves.’
‘But, you could get to know them…?’
Amy slit her eyes, crossed her legs again, towards me now, and leaned in. ‘Is this going where I think it is, Gus?’
‘Where’s that?’
A smile, wide white teeth beneath red lipstick. Fair dos to the girl – she knew how to play up. ‘Hopefully all the way.’
I coughed into my fist, suppressed a laugh.
‘Let’s not get too carried away, eh, Amy.’
‘You’re right… There’s time enough for that, sure.’