opportunity to take off, run for the hills. But, all credit to her, she seemed concerned. Whether it came down to a lack of years or romantic idealism, her hackles seemed well and truly raised.
‘Gus, this is just awful.’
I nodded into my smoothie.
‘I wouldn’t have believed…’ She looked out into the road, an old woman struggled along with a shopping trolley. ‘I mean, it all seems so normal out there.’
Her statement seemed absurd to me. I hadn’t known normal for a very long time.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘What I have to — find Billy’s killer.’
‘I want to help.’
I smiled at her. She meant every word, but the idea that she could be any help to me was laughable and the exact opposite of what I’d hoped she’d say.
‘You’re doing that already — listening to this is a help, Amy. You’re helping me get all this straight in my mind. It’s a lot to carry around.’
‘That’s not what I meant. I meant proper help.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. There’s got to be something I could do.’
It crossed my mind that by keeping her around I’d take the edge off the danger — it might be tricky making a hit on me with a witness about. But I scrubbed the idea. She had to go, I knew it.
‘The reason I told you all this wasn’t to get you involved. I wanted to explain things, why I have to-’
‘Oh, here it comes.’ She flung back her head. A tremor of tiny ripples passed along the top of her smoothie.
‘It’s not like that.’
‘No?’
‘What I’m trying to tell you is that if you stick around me, you could be in danger. Maybe not as much as me, but there might be trouble.’
She stood up. ‘You bastard.’
‘ Sorry?’
As I looked at her I became aware of what bugged me about her appearance. A new piercing sat above her lip, to the right.
‘You’ve got a piercing?’
‘Oh, so you noticed.’
‘I did. I did. Look, sit back down, Amy.’
She calmed a bit. ‘It’s called a Monroe.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Marilyn Monroe.’ Amy pointed to the shiny piece of silver above her lip. ‘She had, like, a beauty spot or something about here.’
I liked the idea, said, ‘Nice — I’ve climbed all the Munros, you know.’
She frowned on me. ‘I think you’ve missed one!’
21
I packed Amy into a Joe Baxi. Things looked way too messy to have her around now. But something told me she wasn’t just going to disappear.
The thought of putting her in danger was one of a million things whirring round in my mind right now. None of them nice. I caught myself biting on the inside of my cheek as I moved off. The pain nipped my nerves. ‘Jeez, what doesn’t these days?’ I thought.
I jumped on the first bus that appeared.
Someone played Sting on their iPod. Me, I’m with Ozzy Osbourne, he said that no matter how grim things get, ‘It could be worse, you could be Sting!’
I rolled this about for a while, to the soundtrack of ‘Fields of Gold’. Christ, could have chucked up when it came on. That’s the way with Sting. For me it’s the whole ‘save the planet’ bollocks. He’ll gad about on TV with some gadgie from the rainforest, while plugging Concorde and Jaguar at the same time. For Chrissake, a Jag’s got two petrol tanks! Can’t he see the contradiction?
I got off on Princes Street, immediately caught in the slipstream of shopping zombies. Was a no-brainer to just keep walking. My legs seemed to tap into the collective rhythm and before long I’d put myself right in the path of Fitz the Crime’s patch.
‘By the holy… I thought we’d said all we had to to each other,’ he blasted coming round the corner of Montgomery Street and on to the Walk.
‘That’s not how we left it, Fitz.’
‘Look, Dury-’
I cut him off, stepped up to face him. ‘No, you look, Fitz. I’m not fucking about, hear me?’
Silence.
I started up again, ‘I helped you out once and now you’re going to settle the score.’
‘Or else — Is that it?’
‘Well…’ I kept my tone threatening.
‘I’m not a man to cross, Dury.’
‘Neither am I.’ I let that one register, shifted on to the front foot. ‘I want the file on Billy Boy.’
‘Are you out of your mind? Am I even hearing this?’ Fitz tried to push past me, but I was too quick for him, blocked his path.
‘I won’t ask again, Fitz. The file on Billy.’
‘Dury, you’re cracked. Jesus! Have you any idea of the consequences?’
‘Monday, Fitz.’
He lit up like a bonfire, his meaty neck quivered as he put his head down and walked right through me.
I decided to spend a few days in the West End. Thought it had to be the last place anyone would look for me.
Mostly, I don’t get out this way, but I found a B amp;B. They charged like raging bulls, but it was getting dark and I needed to lie low for a while. Even managed to keep off the sauce. Kept playing Bob Dylan’s advice: ‘Alcohol will kill anything that’s alive and preserve anything that’s dead.’
I knew what he meant, but I wasn’t ready to start drying out just yet. It was temporary; I needed a clear head.
Was tugging at the window, in preparation of a fly-smoke when my mobile went off.
‘Dury.’
‘You’re an elusive fella, Mr Dury.’
It was Milo, but with none of his usual sparkle.
‘Oh, Jeez, Milo. I’m sorry, I forgot to-’
‘’Tis fine, Gus. I know ye have a busy life to lead.’
‘No, no — it’s more than that. I had my flat broken into and, well, it’s just been pretty full-on lately.’
‘I understand.’
He might have understood, but I sure as hell didn’t. What was I playing at? He’d asked me for some help, an old man with no one, and I’d let him down. I deserved flogging.
‘Milo, are you okay?’
‘Yes. I’m okay.’
‘Are you sure about that? You sound tired.’
‘Gus, I must be very frank with you-’ He broke off, coughing and spluttering like he’d hit his death rattle.
‘Milo? You still there?’
‘Yes, I–I made the fatal mistake of travelling from home in the pissing rain, ’tis lashing!’
