ribeyes, do some chips, bit of sweetcorn?
Getting low on ice. I chucked a couple of cubes in then added a hefty measure of gin. Then a splash of tonic.
The kitchen door opened and Rhona came back in, a bloom of pink colouring her pale cheeks and nose. I handed the G amp;T to her.
Pfffff She blinked a couple of times, then took it. Smiled. Knocked back a mouthful. Ahhh Can t remember last time we got hammered. Can you? I can t
Plenty more where that came from. I picked up my own drink and clinked it against hers. Fuck the lot of them.
Fuckem! Another swig. Then a frown. Look at the time, got to get the steam on. Blink. I mean steak. Got to get the steak on. The pink in her cheeks got darker.
Nah, plenty time
Two thick ribeye steaks sizzled in the hot pan, butter foaming up around the edges. The smell of caramelizing meat and roasting black pepper filled the kitchen. Two bottles of red breathed on the worktop.
Rhona leaned back against the sink, sipping her gin and tonic, smiling, eyes focused somewhere about a foot and a half in front of her face. She ran a hand through her hair, making it stick out in little tufts. Can t believe believe we ve spanked half a bottle of gin.
Steaks ll need to rest for five minutes. I tipped them onto a warm plate and poured the pan juices over the top. Do you want to check on the chips?
Chips? Chips, yes, chips. She shook her head for a moment. Smiled again, then lurched over to the oven and peered in through the glass door. Yup. Those are chips all right.
I stuck the sweetcorn in the microwave.
See the thing is the thing people don t unnerstand about you is is you re a great cop. She held a hand up, as if she was stopping traffic.
No, I mean it. You re a great cop, and they and they re jealous. Another mouthful of wine.
They are, they re jealous.
I topped up her glass. How s your steak?
Is It s great too. You re a great cook. I people don t get that, but I do. I get it so I said I said, No, fuck you, you gap-toothed hairy wee bastard. And he he burst into tears! Rhona threw back the last mouthful of wine from her glass and grinned. Right there right there in the court. A frown. Back inna inna minute
She levered herself out of the couch and wobbled for a moment, before stomping off stiff-legged to the toilet.
I topped her up again. Then went through to the kitchen and fetched the second bottle of wine.
No, you gotta you gotta listen to this: you ll love this She sat on the carpet in front of the stereo, pulling CDs out of the rack and dumping them next to her. Where the buggery Ah, ah found it! You ll love this
The second bottle was already two-thirds gone.
Here She fumbled with the CD case, then wobbled the shiny disk into the machine, one eye squinted shut, the tip of her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth.
Music swelled from the speakers.
Listen listen, no, listen you ll love it Then she started to sing.
My gates are open wide, but she stands outside, consu-ooooooo-oo-oo-oomed by pride
She should have sounded like a football crowd bellowing from the terraces, but she didn t. Rhona s voice was soft and lilting, perfectly in tune.
I glugged more wine into her glass.
No, I mean it! Rhona blinked at me, her left eye not opening all the way, held down by a droopy lid. She ran a pale tongue across her wine-stained lips. Head nodding round on a bobbling circular path. You re the the only policeman in in that place worth a shit. A shit!
The last of the red disappeared, except for the dribble that splashed onto her sweatshirt. You re a great a great an I love you, Ash no I mean it! I love you She threw her arms wide. There
I ve said it, I ve said it
More blinking. Then she peered into her glass. All gone. A jaw-cracking yawn full of teeth. Pffffff. Bink. Blink. Then her eyes stayed closed, chin resting on her chest.
The wine glass wobbled in her hand, and she jerked upright eyes wide. M wake
No you re not.
You ve barely touched barely touched your wine
You have it. I took her glass and poured mine into it. Not really in the mood.
Two more sips and her chin was on her chest again, breath slipping into a deep rhythmic drone.
That should do it.
I picked her glass out of her hand and put it on the table.
Come on, let s get you to bed.
A warm fuzzy smile spread across her face. Yes please
Snoring rocked the walls. Rhona lay spread out like a scarecrow on top of the bedclothes she d managed to get the sweatshirt off, exposing a bright-red lacy bra, but the jeans had defeated her. They were bunched around her knees, socks making her feet look twice as long as they were.
I grabbed an ankle and hauled her jeans off, then fought with her pale limbs until she was under the duvet. Went off to the kitchen, came back with a basin and put it by the side of the bed, covered the carpet around it with newspaper. Then slipped out and closed the door.
Checked my watch. Ten to midnight.
Soon be time to pay Mr Steven Wallace a visit and see how sensational the little bastard felt coughing up blood.
Chapter 40
McDermid Avenue was dead. Parked cars lined the road, tarmac glistening in the streetlight. The houses lay in darkness. Ten past one, and I d been sitting here long enough for the cold to burrow into my joints, making them ache.
The rain had given up half an hour ago, leaving everything slick and wet. Clouds scudded across the dark sky, stars twinking through the gaps.
Dickie s surveillance team were in an unmarked VW Polo on the other side of the road, about three doors down from Steven Wallace s house. Close enough to keep an eye on the place, far enough away to be inconspicuous. Sort of. The driver s window was open, cigarette smoke curling out into the cold night. Might as well have stuck a big neon arrow on top of the car.
Should ve done it properly and parked two hundred yards away, like I had.
The Polo was facing the wrong way to see me climb out into the night.
Christ it was freezing especially without a jacket. My breath trailed behind me like a pale ghost as I went around to the boot and pulled out the bags from the DIY superstore in Shortstaine.
It s perfectly innocent, Officer: I m planning on doing a bit of decorating. My house was vandalized and flooded. Nothing suspicious about that, is there? What? Why don t I have the DIY supplies I was seen purchasing at B amp;Q? Someone must have stolen them from my car when I left it outside Rhona s house. It s not the best of neighbourhoods, after all. I certainly didn t burn them to destroy any trace evidence. And besides: I was with Rhona all night, drinking wine and putting the world to rights. Ask her if you don t believe me.
Not exactly perfect, but it d do.
I walked away from Steven Wallace s house even if the surveillance team had spotted me, I wasn t going anywhere near their target. I kept walking till I reached a gap between two of the buildings. A dirt footpath led away into Cameron Park. The four surrounding streets were full of them, all sealed off with blue-and-white POLICE tape.
I ducked through onto the path. The low clouds reflected back a dim jaundiced glow, just enough light to
