'Thanks, William,' Eilidh’s voice was low and amused. 'They’re both knackered.'
We chatted a while about arrangements for the gig and then I said, 'Do you remember I asked you about old evidence?'
Eilidh nodded.
'Of course.'
'Well, if you had something like that who would you go to?'
'My lawyer, which in your case is me.'
Eilidh smiled. I thought again how beautiful she was and was tempted.
'I’d rather keep you out of it.'
'Then it’s obvious, the police.'
'Sure, but is there anyone in particular? Especially if it was something a bit unusual.'
Eilidh raised her eyebrows.
'You’re intriguing me, William.' She thought for a moment. 'You’d want someone experienced, but with a bit of imagination. After a while there’s nothing policemen won’t believe given the right evidence, they’ve seen so many odd things, but sometimes you find they can’t be bothered. They’ve burnt out.' She paused. 'I’d probably go to Blunt, the guy who interviewed you the other week.'
'Why would I want to deal with that cunt?'
Margaret was too far away to hear our conversation, but maybe some instinct alerted her to the nature of it, or maybe she could lip-read swear words. She looked up in her chair and called over, 'Eilidh, have you almost finished?'
'Just a minute, mum.' Eilidh turned back to me. 'He is a cunt but he’s a straight cunt.
Take your lawyer’s advice. If you won’t show me, show Blunt. I happen to know he’s back on nights this week.'
The voice came again from the back of the hall.
'Eilidh.'
'Whoops.' She took the buggy from me. 'I’d better go. Good luck.'
And she turned and ran towards her mother and child.
I waited a long time until Inspector Blunt walked into his local. He was alone, wearing the same tired suit and weary expression he’d worn the last time we’d met. He stepped up to the bar without looking at me, though I knew I’d been marked as soon as he came in. The barmaid set Blunt’s drink in front of him without waiting to be asked. I let him have his first swallow then joined him at the bar. Blunt looked at my not-so-fresh orange juice and asked, 'You signed the pledge?'
'No, I’ve made a resolution. No strong drink till after 8.30 in the morning.'
Blunt raised his pint to his lips.
'Aye, well, some of us have already done a full day’s work.' He sucked the froth from his moustache. 'Been bedding down with any winos lately?'
'No. You?'
'Only the wife.' He pulled out his cigarettes and lit up without offering me one. 'I thought I said you weren’t welcome round here.'
'If I listened to everyone who told me that I’d never leave the house.'
'That might not be such a bad thing.'
I lit my own cigarette.
'I’ve got something that might be of interest to you.'
'So come and see me in shop hours.'
'It’s a bit delicate.'
'There are days I feel like a nurse at the clap clinic. Everyone wanting to show me their sores.' He looked at me through the smoke of his cigarette as if trying to make up his mind about something. 'Jesus Christ.' The policeman shook his head. 'OK then, what’s the worst that can happen?' He laughed and I wondered if this was his first stop on the way home or if he had a bottle in his locker to ease the pain. 'Just give me a chance to order my breakfast.' Blunt leaned across the bar. 'Mary, goan throw us a packet of dry roasted over.'
'Not fancy a nice fry-up on the house, Mr Blunt?'
'Naw, hen, the wife’ll have mine waiting when I get back.' He put the peanuts in his suit pocket, and straightened up muttering, 'Will she fuck.' He looked at me. 'Remind me of your name again.'
'William Wilson.'
'That’s right. Down-among-the-dead-men Wilson. Right then, Mr Wilson, show me what you’ve got.'
'Can we go somewhere a bit more private?'
'As long as you promise not to slip into something more comfortable.'
We settled ourselves at a table with the kind of logistics favoured by teenage dope smokers, out of sight of the bar and away from the gents and the puggy machine. Blunt took another inch off his pint.
