he could be of some use to me – if I could prise some proper chat from him. It had proved next door to impossible up till now, but nothing lasts for ever.
‘Stevo… what do you make of the Calder thing?’
He had his eyes closed as he toked away, kept them shut. I saw them twitch behind those heavy lids as he spoke. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well… seems a bit strange, doesn’t it?’
‘Does it?’
He was acting coy. This from the guy who had found Ben hanging, who had no time for Calder… I wondered what he was up to with Paul earlier, where he fitted into all of this. ‘Aye, well, I was thinking… y’know, with the Ben Laird hanging, then him hanging himself in such a short period of time.’
Stevo opened his eyes wide. The whites dazzled me. ‘Paper said Calder felt guilty… it was in his note.’
‘You believe that?’
He sat up straight, spoke fast: ‘Maybe! He was a funny bloke.’
I finished off my tab, took out another Marlboro, offered one to Stevo. ‘I hear a lot of folk never liked him. Do you think, y’know…?’
Stevo’s mouth twitched now. His gaze moved from me to the window. ‘What, that he was done over?’
I tried to look nonplussed as he put his eyes back on me. ‘Well, it happens doesn’t it.’
‘Oh, yeah… wouldn’t put it past-’ He cut himself off.
I leaned forward. ‘You wouldn’t put it past
Stevo realised he’d said too much. He got up and went over to the tray with the kettle and the coffee cups. ‘You want a coffee?’ It was all a distraction.
‘Go on then.’ I let him think I was finished with the subject, played the game.
When he brought over my coffee I started again. ‘You were saying?’
‘What about?’
‘About Calder. You said you wouldn’t put it past someone?’
‘Did I?… Don’t think so.’
He was being infuriating now. It was on my mind to jump out of the chair and clamp a good wake-up slap on him. But I had to keep my cool. There was no point in blowing my stack with Stevo, he was too decent a bloke for that kind of treatment. He’d come good yet, I figured, soon as his conscience got the better of him.
I changed tack. ‘Did you know Ben Laird?’
‘Bender Ben… oh, yeah.’
‘Bender Ben…’ I played dumb. ‘What’s that all about?’
Stevo sipped his coffee: was too hot; he blew on it, said, ‘That’s what they called him… Was a bit of a party animal. Seen him out on the town a couple of times. He was always the most drunk bloke in the room… Had this motto, “You’re a long time dead”.’
‘Did he really?’
Stevo seemed to be more interested in talking about Ben. A smile cut his cheeks. ‘He was a good man to get a bag of puff from, if you know what I mean.’
‘A dealer?’
He reached for a biscuit from a pack of ginger nuts. His heavy stomach looked as if it had been suddenly sliced in two, the top sagging like a full sack over his belt. ‘In more ways than one… He offered to get me some serious gear, y’know. And more besides.’ He giggled, a boyish gleam in his eye. ‘He offered me a go at a pro they’d brought back one night!’
I kept my tone flat, feigned low interest. ‘They?’
‘Ben and his boys. There’s a wee clique of them.’
‘Would this be the ones you talked about before?’
Suddenly Stevo started to get cagey again. He sat back in his seat, clamming up. ‘They’re just a group.’ He dunked his half-eaten ginger nut in his coffee. Filled his mouth with the biscuit like it was a gag.
I shook my head, made to laugh. ‘Sounds like quite a wild wee gang.’
He sparked up, ‘I never said they were a gang!’
‘Okay. Okay, Stevo… we’re only talking here. Why so defensive?’
‘Look, Gus… there are things in here you know nothing about.’ He got out of his seat. Coffee spilled from the cup in his hand. ‘You don’t want to mess about with that lot. I’ve seen them, heard them in the hall going on about being the masters and the born rulers… They’re out of control! Out of fucking control!’
It was the first time I’d seen Stevo in this much of a state. For a doper he was seriously animated.
‘Okay, mate… we’re only talking here.’ The words sounded trite.
Stevo dropped his cup. The last of the coffee spilled as the pottery shattered on the floor. I thought the lad might hyperventilate, his skin darkened and his cheeks puffed up. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing, Gus… I’ve had them asking about you! They know you’re up to something!’
I rose to face him. ‘Who, Stevo? Who’s been asking about me?’
He brought his chubby fingers to his lips. His hand trembled for a moment then he jerked it away. His face seemed to tighten now; his jaw drooped and his mouth contorted like Munch’s
I went after him but I was too slow on my pins to catch him.
‘Stevo… Stevo… come back!’
He took off down the corridor at a fine clip, never looking back once. For a big biffer, he could fairly shift it.
‘Stevo…’ I yelled.
He was round the corner and out of sight before I could call him again.
Chapter 19
I KEPT MY RETURN VISIT to hospital from Hod. He handed me the newspaper as I walked into the car park. Calder’s obituary had been written by some po-faced cadet journo who looked young enough to still be a student herself. A photo-byline on an obit as well… what next? She’d even failed to link it to Ben Laird’s murder – went on the line of Calder being overcome with guilt at the death of a student. It was the same old pish again. Was beginning to tire of hearing it.
‘Utter bullshit!’ I said. Made me want to chuck.
‘You really are away with the mixer now, Dury,’ said Hod.
I said nowt; kept my eyes fixed on him, though. It was a well-worn look, I’d perfected it in my marriage to Debs. Let him know he could only get away with this kind of rant for so long.
Hod reloaded: ‘I mean, where was your mind, man? Going to shake down Calder… Gillian blames you for his death, y’know.’
‘Oh, really.’ What did he know? Hod was baggage. I was merely carrying him along.
‘Y’know… we still haven’t signed this contract with her. This is just the kind of thing that would put her off. Do I need to remind you-’
Enough was enough. ‘Shut the fuck up, Hod.’ I crushed up the newspaper, raised a finger, shook it left to right. ‘If you think you’re starting on that patter with me you can fucking well think again. We’re mates, not family.’
Hit the right note; he drew in his head. Could almost see the shoulders recoiling as he sighed. Hod walked over to the edge of the car park, sat down on a wall. I watched him fold arms, quickly raising a paw to test the stubble on his chin. He looked lost.
I walked over, sat next to him. ‘Look, mate… what’s your game?’
‘Come again?’
That had come out wrong. I rephrased it: ‘I mean, you’re a businessman, I’m right?’
‘Suppose… feel like a fucking shit one right now.’
I turned out my pockets looking for a tab. Found a pack of Regal smalls that I’d been avoiding until I was desperate, sparked up. ‘You’re not a shit businessman, mate. You’ve had a rough stretch.’ I knew all about rough stretches, went on, ‘Way this economy is, your mob – builders – were always gonna take the worst hit…’
