Fitz ignored me, slammed down an envelope and a note file. He cursed and scratched at the edge of his temple; a heavy vein beat on the opposite side of his brow. When he’d read the closely typed note, his head jerked back, he tapped his shirt pocket, seemed to have forgotten something. ‘Oh, Jaysus feck… my smokes.’

I knew this was theatre. He took a quick sketch at the pug on the door. ‘Nip up for my tabs, boyo.’

The pug was sold, rushed out.

‘Hold it… and get this cunt a coffee.’

Nods, bowing and scraping.

Fitz rose, walked to the edge of the desk. His fat thigh seemed ready to burst from his trouser leg as he raised himself to sit on the desk. He rested there, silently, for only a moment, then he punched a fist into the air before me.

‘I ought to crack yer feckin’ nut, Dury,’ he yelled.

Did that require an answer from me? I doubted it, went, ‘Cut the shit.’

He riled up: ‘A man’s been clubbed to death on my feckin’ watch, Dury. I’m answerable for this case, you know. Just what the feck are ye playing at?’

I played it cool. Slowly, I turned my head towards the wall, spoke: ‘Funny, I don’t remember you being this worked up about my brother’s death.’ I turned to face him.

He touched the tip of his nose. ‘I don’t like having you in here, Gus… after your loss.’

I tutted.

Fitz removed himself from the desk, walked round to the other side and sat down before me. ‘Look, Gus… you have no idea how bad this looks.’

‘What the fuck…? Do you think I give a shit about appearances, Fitz? My brother’s been killed, and now there’s another body to add to the count.’

Fitz ran a large hand through his greying hair. He exhaled slowly, said, ‘What the feck were you playing at with Kerr?’

I knew where he was going with this. ‘You know what I was doing there: Ian Kerr worked for my brother.’

Fitz’s eyes went Ren and Stimpy on me. ‘Are you telling me you’re working this feckin’ case?’

I shot back, ‘Of course I fucking am. My brother’s been murdered, man.’

He squeezed the edge of the table in his hands, let it go. ‘Well, that’s where we have an issue… Don’t think for a second, a millisecond even, that I won’t haul your arse in if I catch you bollixin’ about.’

I wasn’t listening to any more of this. He knew I wasn’t about to back off. He could have my help, or he could fumble about on his own. Fitz knew I was more use to him onside. ‘Look, this Ian Kerr boy, he was at the factory five minutes after you left the other day… He was kicking off big time.’

He played coy: ‘And, so?’

‘Well, if you’ve done your checks you’ll know he was on the wagons, but got punted. He thought he was due wages and he was none too chuffed about losing his job. When I saw him he was going scripto… And the bloke living next door to him says he was set to take matters into his own hands.’

Fitz sighed, pulled out a chair, dropped himself. ‘That feckin pisshead. I wouldn’t rate what he says too highly.’

I raised my tone: ‘He was going to have the last laugh, so he said… I saw how they dealt with him at the factory, a couple of pugs hard-armed him out the back. Now, you’re not gonna tell me he invited them round to his gaff to redecorate the place in his own claret, are you?’

‘Dury, for fecksake, you’re reaching.’

‘No, Fitz, something’s not right. Who works over a bloke in his fucking own front room? It’s insane… unless they want to send a strong message.’

Fitz played with the knot on his tie. ‘Dury, it doesn’t stack up.’

I became agitated, stood up, leaned over him. ‘Look, I know Kerr wasn’t killed because he got lippy; he got killed because someone’s got a lot to hide, a lot to lose.’

Fitz ran fingers over his sweaty brow; he looked suddenly tired. He had a fresh murder on his hands and was clearly wondering how much grief that was going to create for him, without my adding to it. I knew he was under no obligation to help me out, especially after I cracked it with him at the factory.

I said, ‘Fitz, we go back.’

‘Ah, go way outta that…’

I winced inwardly — it was a weak play. ‘I know you don’t owe me shit, Fitz. But that’s my brother you have on a slab.’

He looked at me. I saw the flecks of red at the edges of his eyes; something told me he knew the territory, if not personally then he’d seen the effects of it enough times to sympathise. Now I saw a side to Fitz I wouldn’t have believed existed. He looked away, exhaled heavily.

I sat down, said, ‘What did you get from your visit to Davie Prentice?’

He shifted his weight, a large gut pressed on the table. ‘He’s a queer fish.’

‘Got that right. Tell me what you found out.’

He shot me a glower. ‘I can’t give you anything, Gus.’

It freaked me out when he used my first name. ‘Why?’

‘Let the force do its work… We’re on the case.’

‘Fitz, this is me you’re speaking to. Just fucking spill, eh.’

He tapped his fingertips together, looked to the door. Clearly wondering where his lackey had got to with the tabs and coffee. Said, ‘There’s some… irregularities.’

I felt my mind ping. ‘What do you mean?’

Fitz laced his fingers, then quickly pulled them apart. ‘You’ll have to trust me, Dury, I can’t tell ye anything. How the fuck would that look to the folk paying my wages?’

I could tell he was coming around; I pressed him: ‘Give me a hint.’

‘I have no hints for ye, man. Jaysus, wouldn’t ye only go off on one, getting into feck knows what. Let me spell it out for you: this is a police investigation, a very serious one and you are not exactly mascot material round here. Do ye really want to feck the force off again, Dury?… Well, do ye? Think about it, man — you know what it’ll lead to.’

I was beyond threats or intimidation. I’d made all the calculations, knew I was onto a loser, but when was I never? I had one card to gamble on. I lowered my tone, tapped on a nerve: ‘This is to do with the Czechs.’

Fitz’s head jerked. ‘Czechs?’

‘Oh, come on, fuck off… The whole workforce has been laid off and replaced by cheap labour. Lot of ill feeling floating about.’

I was feeding him a line — I had nothing solid on the Czechs — but he was feeding me a line too. ‘I don’t know about any Czechs. All I will say to you is this…’ He shifted forward, spoke softly: ‘Be very careful who you tussle with, Dury. Our man Davie Prentice is connected… to some very serious people.’

I’d got Fitz’s attention, maybe even got him back onside, said, ‘When you say connected, do you mean the type of connections that might get me into trouble if I was to, say, stamp on fat Davie a bit?’

Fitz watched me as I spoke, then leaned back in his chair. ‘I’d say that was a fair bet. In fact, I’d give you better than evens.’

I felt my voice drop low in my chest. ‘Well, it’s already too late for that. I’d place your bets, Fitz.’

Chapter 10

She looked the sort that I didn’t run into a whole lot. Going by those I did run into, maybe this meant we’d get along just fine.

‘So should I call you Dr Naughton?’

‘Would you like to call me Dr Naughton?’

I figured pretty quick that this was the way it was gonna play out: she’d be big on questions, short on answers. ‘Well, I suppose.’

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