‘What’s she in custody for?’
‘Whoever had Sarah killed used the librarian to spy on her.’
‘Bastards. But who wanted her killed?’
‘That, Brian, is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Old enemies of her father, or someone closer to home?’
‘What, Donald? Come on, Jim, you cannae be serious aboot that, surely?’
Daley shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t be sure about anything. This new force doesn’t help, either. At least we knew everybody before, now we don’t have a clue who half the bosses are.’
‘Gie me half an hour wae Donald. I’ll just beat the truth oot the bastard.’
Suddenly, Daley flinched; a flash of light appeared over Scott’s shoulder and illuminated the compound in a harsh white light.
‘Get down, Brian!’ shouted Daley, almost deafened by a rushing sound overhead that shook his very bones.
The two detectives lay prone on the machair as sand and muck flew over their heads. Daley thought his head would burst as the noise ramped up; the ground trembled with the sheer force of what was happening. Through his tightly closed eyes, Daley was still aware of the flashing light.
As quickly as it started, it stopped. Daley and Scott lay motionless for a moment, then the DCI lifted his head. ‘What the fuck was that?’
‘Lights in the sky, Jim. Lights in the sky. I don’t care what you think o’ me, I need a bloody drink!’
31
The bar at the County was unusually crowded. Annie waved at the detectives as they made their way through the throng towards the bar.
‘How are yous the night, boys? I’ll be getting a bonus if it keeps as busy as this. Mair power tae the wee green men, that’s all I’ll say. It’s no’ been this busy since the Americans were testing oot they invisible planes back in the eighties.’
‘Eh? What do you mean?’
‘Och, they thought it was a’ hush hush, but we knew fine. It was the stealthy planes, or whootever they’re called.’
‘Stealth, do you mean?’
‘Aye, that’s it. Half the Americans were dating lassies fae the toon. No’ many secrets between the sheets, boys.’
‘There you are, Brian,’ said Daley. ‘Lights in the sky.’
‘Aye, well, if what I saw the other night is anything tae go by that plane must be out of this world.’ He handed a large malt whisky to Daley, who was scanning the bar for a free table.
‘Shit. Don’t look now, Brian. I’ve just found out why the bar’s so busy.’ Daley took a gulp of his drink and swilled it around in his mouth.
‘Well, it’s no’ happy hour,’ said Scott, looking at the paltry change he had just been handed by Annie. ‘That bloody stuff costs an arm and a leg, gaffer.’
‘Ronnie Wiley and his cronies are holding court at a table at the back.’ Daley had to shout into Scott’s ear to be heard above the din.
‘What, the Ronnie Wiley?’
‘Take a look for yourself.’
Scott stretched up and peered over the crowd. Three men were sitting at the back table, the one usually occupied by the policemen when they were in for a drink. Wiley spotted Scott and gave him a hearty wave. He said something to one of the men beside him, then got up from the table and started forcing his way through the crowd towards the detectives.
‘Fuck,’ said Daley. ‘Here we go. We’d have been better off in the Douglas Arms.’
‘Gentlemen, how nice to see you after so long,’ said Wiley. He was about five eight, in his forties, with long hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was wearing a designer shirt and jeans, and gave the impression of somebody who was working hard to stave off the reality of his middle age, and failing badly. ‘Can I get you hard-working men a drink?’
‘No thanks,’ said Daley. He noticed that the level of conversation in the bar had dropped dramatically.
‘What brings you doon here?’ asked Scott. ‘Don’t tell me they’ve run oot o’ sleazy stories up the road?’
‘Oh, come on, DS Scott. Do you think original sin is only alive and well in Glasgow? I can assure you that is most certainly not the case.’ He eyed Daley with a smirk. ‘Is that not right, Chief Inspector?’
Most of the drinkers around them had stopped their conversations, and were now looking at the two policemen and the ponytailed journalist. Behind the bar, Annie looked suddenly worried, rubbing at a pint glass with a towel.
‘As you know, Ronnie, a policeman’s job is pretty universal. The same old problems crop up again and again – same old faces, too, come to that.’ Daley smiled.
‘I wonder, how are you getting on with the investigation of these dreadful murders – assassinations, more like? Now a girl connected with the investigation has been kidnapped, and is it not true that another woman who was helping the police with their inquiries was bludgeoned to death in the jail? And how is the investigation into the suicide of poor Mr Cudihey going, not to mention the UFOs that have been plaguing the area? I wouldn’t have thought you men had time for a social life.’ He grinned at Daley, showing a row of exceptionally white teeth.
‘Noo, come on, please, sir,’ said Annie, deciding it was time to intervene. ‘The polis just want tae have a drink and relax after a hard day.’
‘Certainly. I’m just chewing the fat with some old friends. Is that not right, gentlemen?’
‘We’re no friends of yours, Ronnie,’ Scott said, his face like thunder. ‘Jeest you dae your job, an’ let us do oors, got it?’
‘No problem,’ Wiley replied with a shrug. He turned as though about to leave, then stopped. ‘None of your other colleagues in tonight? DS Mary Dunn, for example?’
‘She’ll be back at hame turnin’ doon the bed,’ came a voice from the back of the room.
‘Aye, wae the sussies on tae,’ called another, raising a bawdy laugh from the bar.
‘Rumours and gossip, Mr Daley, truly dreadful,’ said Wiley. ‘I’d better take a seat.’
‘Aye, take the weight aff your feet,’ said Scott.
‘You’re a loyal little dog, right enough, Brian.’ He turned to Annie. ‘A drink for everyone, and just put it on my tab,’ he shouted, to a cheer from the assembled drinkers. As a surge of customers pressed against the bar, anxious to redeem their free drink while it was still on offer, Wiley was pushed against Daley. ‘Be sure to give Mrs Daley my regards.’ With that he forced his way through the crowd and back to his table.
‘I’m ready for an early night,’ said Daley, knocking back the rest of his drink. ‘You should do the same.’
‘Aye, Jimmy, aye. Just one more for the ditch for me.’
‘Make sure it is just one more.’ Daley put his glass on the bar, said goodnight to Annie and left. Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice that he’d gone.
‘Gie me another, Annie,’ shouted Scott. ‘An’ make it a large one.’
Daley jumped in his car. He’d just had the one whisky, so was fine to drive, but as he set off on the road towards Machrie, he wished he’d drunk much more.
Just before the village, he turned down a long, rutted drive that led towards a small white cottage. He parked his car beside the blue hatchback already there and walked towards the front door, gravel popping underfoot. To his left, the dying glow of the sun kept the darkness of the night at bay. The air smelled of cut grass, warm earth and the invigorating scent of the ocean, never far in Kinloch. He was pleased to see a light still on behind her bedroom curtains. As he was about to knock on the door, it swung open, Mary Dunn silhouetted in the bright light of the hall.
‘Sir . . . Jim,’ she said. ‘I heard a car, I wasn’t sure if it was you.’ She smiled. It was a warm night and she was wearing a large men’s T-shirt, her legs bare. ‘Come in,’ she said, brushing a loose strand of auburn hair from her brow.
Daley followed her into the cottage. She showed him into the small lounge, then walked into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of white wine and two glasses.
‘Eh, not for me, thanks,’ said
Daley, with a nervous smile. ‘I’ve got the car.’
‘So you’re not staying,’ she said, her eyes downcast. ‘You don’t mind if I do, then?’ She didn’t wait for a reply, twisting the cork from the bottle and pouring wine into the large glass.
‘You know I saw Liz.’
‘Yes, of course. I take it that it went well.’
‘Listen, Mary. It went the way it always goes. It never changes.’
‘Oh, so you’re in love with her again, is that it? Thanks very much, now fuck off, Mary.’ She shifted her gaze from his, as tears brimmed in her eyes.
‘It’s not a case of being in love with her again. I’ve always tried to explain to you how I feel about her. It’s just that I thought we could never be together again, you know.’
‘Oh, great, and now you can. Happy families – you, her, and your brother-in-law’s baby. I’m so happy for you!’
‘I think the baby is mine, Mary.’
She sat back in her chair and drew her legs up under the T-shirt. He could see that she was making a mammoth effort not to cry. ‘How do you know?’ she said, through choked sobs. ‘You can’t have the results of the DNA test yet.’
‘How did you know about that?’
‘I’m a fucking detective, you know, not just your bit on the side. I found the instructions in your bin, if you must know. I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen for months. It doesn’t make it any easier now it has.’
‘You were never just my bit on the side. You must know that!’
‘OK, then, fuck buddy, a shoulder to cry on. Whatever you want to call it to make yourself feel better.’ She took a large swig of wine. ‘What has she got that I don’t? I’m young, and I would never hurt you in the way she has. You told me about all the things she’s done to you, the affairs, all of the heartache. You’ve been in my bed for months, telling me how hard your life was with her, and now you’ve decided that it doesn’t matter because you love her. Fuck you!’ She leant forward and poured herself more wine, filling the glass to the brim.
‘It’s not like that. He’s my son.’
‘If he’s your son, you mean.’
‘I know he is, I can feel it here,’ said Daley, placing his hand on his heart.
‘So you’re prepared to live a lie, just so that your son has a happy family. Well, I don’t think it’ll make anyone happy!’ She sat back again, cradling her wine. ‘My father left us when I was ten, you know.’
‘You never said.’
‘I don’t speak about it much. He was a bastard. As soon as he left, our lives improved. My mother got a job back in the bank she had worked in before she’d had me, I went to school, everything was fine. Instead of me lying in my bed listening to them arguing, or my mother screaming, or my dad taunting her with his latest affair, we listened to music and watched the TV, we talked, we were a normal family. Them splitting up was the best thing that ever happened. What was left of my childhood was happy, just me and my mum, so don’t think that trying to mould the perfect nuclear family will make everything OK.’
‘I would never behave like that. I hope you don’t think I would.’
‘No? You might manage to be faithful, now you’ve sown your wild oats with me, but what about her? Do you really think she’s changed overnight just because she’s given birth? Don’t be stupid, Jim.’
‘I have to give it a go. I have to try.’
‘Oh, just get out!’ shouted Mary, throwing her glass against the fireplace, where it shattered spectacularly. ‘Just leave me alone.’
Daley hesitated. ‘I don’t want to leave you upset like this.’
‘Get out!’ she shouted. ‘Now!’
Daley got up from his chair and looked at Mary. She had buried her head in her knees, still drawn up to her chest, and was sobbing uncontrollably. He held his hand out to touch her auburn hair, but stopped himself. ‘Will you be OK?’
‘I’m fine, just leave.’
With great willpower, Brian Scott managed to drag himself from the bar after just three more drinks. In all honesty, he was fed up looking at Wiley’s sneer every time he happened to glance in his direction.
‘Yous both look wild and tired, Brian,’ said Annie, as he made to leave the bar and go back to his room.
‘Aye, force o’ work, you know how it is. You’ve had a busy night yoursel’, by the looks o’ things.’
‘Aye, I have that,’ she said, then hesitated. ‘It’s my night off the morrow. There’s a new Chinese restaurant jeest opened doon at the other end o’ Long Road.’
‘Oh aye,’ said Scott, trying to locate his cigarettes.
‘I jeest wondered if you fancied a wee meal, jeest as friends, you understand. You look as though you could dae with a good feed.’
‘Eh, aye, I mean why not, eh? Be nice tae dae something for a change, rather than just sit aboot the pub and work. Better no’ make it too early, mind. You know the hours I have tae keep.’
‘What aboot half eight?’
‘Aye, that should be OK. Unless we bump into a wee green man in the street, that is. I’ll gie Jim the heads up tomorrow.’
‘Great, it’s no’ a date then.’
‘No, it’s no’. We both know a date’s just another word for a casual shag, these days,’ said Scott with a grin. ‘I’ll get you in here, eh? I’m just heading for a quick smoke before I hit the sack. See you tomorrow.’
He left Annie behind the bar, and made his way to the smoking area at the back of the hotel. He jumped when somebody spoke from the shadows.
‘Your boss doesn’t like a slice of the truth, does he, DS Scott?’ Despite the slurring, Wiley’s voice was unmistakable.
‘You bastard. If I was you, I’d get tae ma bed before they aliens get hold o’ you an’ take you to the Planet Arsehole, where you belong.’
Wiley moved to stand in front of the detective, close enough for Scott to make out his bloodshot eyes.
‘You pricks are all the same. Just love the fact you’ve got a warrant card in your pocket and a wee bit of power. Aye, well, things are changing, Brian. Cops like you and Daley are dinosaurs, from another age. The new force is full of graduates, folk with brains, not backstreet bully boys like yourself that somebody was stupid enough to give a uniform to, back in the day.’ He leaned in closer. ‘I’m making it my business to expose bastards like you, make sure this new police force is a fresh start.’
‘Very commendable, I’m sure, Ronnie,’ said Scott, taking a long draw of his cigarette. ‘Since my career’s near up, I hope you’ll indulge me one last time?’
‘With what? The phone number for the bookies or the snooker halls where the rest of the down-and-out ex-cops hang out? No problem.’
‘No, with this.’ Before Wiley could move, Scott smashed his forehead into the other man’s nose, sending him tumbling backwards with a sharp crack.
‘You fuckin’ bastard, it’s broken,’ screamed Wiley, his voice muffled by his hands on his nose and the blood in his throat.
‘You need tae watch doon here, Ronnie. The polis are just no’ daein’ their jobs, know what I mean?’ Scott kneeled over his victim. ‘Might have been one o’ they wee green men, eh.’ He thrust his hand into Wiley’s pocket and pulled out a small ball; dark and hard and covered with cling film. ‘I’ll just keep a hold o’ your stash o’ dope, Ronnie. Just in case you fancy a wee complaint against Her Majesty’s Constabulary. Though I’m sure naebody saw nothing. That’s the problem wae these attacks outside pubs, I’ve just stopped bothering wae them altogether. You have a good sleep now.’ Scott got to his feet and walked back into the hotel, leaving Wiley whimpering on the ground.
32
Not for the first time, as he stared across the loch in the early hours of another golden dawn, Daley wished he hadn’t stopped smoking. He was sitting on the decking outside his home, high on the hill overlooking the loch and the town beyond. To his left, the island that sheltered Kinloch from an angry sea’s wrath loomed dark and immovable; he could s
ee the white dots of sheep grazing near its loaf-shaped summit. Directly across the still waters, the dead of Kinloch lay under the burgeoning light of a sky that offered the hopes, fears and promises of another day for those who lived and breathed. For those in heavenly repose, the summer’s warmth was but a long-forgotten whisper on the the wind.
He always looked at graveyards with the same melancholy. Was it here that his eternal resting place lay, soft and silent but surely waiting for him? Maybe, somewhere over there, his very own piece of earth, the soil to which he would return, was ready for him. Somewhere, the tree that would be his coffin was growing tall and strong, until the axe of his death brought it down.
He tried to force out these thoughts, only for Alice Taylor’s pretty young face to parade before his mind’s eye, followed by John Donald, the Dragon, Liz and Brian Scott. The grotesque corpse of Walter Cudihey; Malky Miller with his tongue pulled through the gore of his own neck; the look of agony on Rory Newell’s face; the clever, beautiful, but misguided Sarah MacDougall, dead on a mortuary slab with her head caved in; and only a few miles away, Kirsteen Lang, a young woman he had only read about and seen, full of life, in photographs, now still and lifeless.
He thought of Mary, the smell, taste and touch of her, the warmth between them as she straddled him with her long legs and worked hard and slow to bring them both to climax, all the time arousing, mesmerising him. He could see her long auburn hair splayed across a white pillow as she lay sleeping after they made love. Why was it that, so often, when he thought of death, he remembered sex.
He still missed Liz, yearned for her, even, but how could he feel for someone else in this way? He knew of men who sought solace in the arms of other women to escape the mundane day-to-day treadmill of their marriages; the thrill was all in the search for new, yielding flesh. He was not like that. The mere act was without thrill unless he felt something more. And he had obviously felt something more for his young colleague. Many would have ended their illicit relationship without a second thought; he couldn’t. He knew that in similar situations, Liz had disposed of lovers without a shred of regret.
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