She took a step back with her right foot, weight on the left. Her left shoulder was forward, her body angled to make it less of a target, back foot angled on the ball of the foot, ready to spring forward. Her fists were clenched too, head high, protecting her face. I’m going to hurt you so bad, she exulted.
‘Leave it, Tam.’ A man’s voice, from behind her. Authoritative, warning.
Tam immediately sat back down in his chair, a sulky look on his face, like a kid told to sit down by his teacher. It was astonishing.
Hanlon kept her eyes firmly on Tam. Then she retreated a step and looked round. The voice belonged to an ageing punk, a guy about forty, with a gymnast’s physique in a sleeveless workout vest and torn jeans. His shoulders and arms and the top of his chest, between his massive pecs, were a swirling mass of colourful tattoos, his eyebrow and lip were pierced. He had sandy hair shaved into a floppy Mohican and his ears too were multiply pierced. His very blue eyes rested on Hanlon; they were bulging in their sockets. He looked much the worse for wear for drugs, mentally at least. Physically he seemed to be doing just fine. His expression seemed quite crazy and a peculiar smile, half welcoming, half threatening flickered across his lips.
‘Youse,’ he said, pointing to Hanlon, ‘come wi’me.’
She dropped her fists. Sanity prevailed. The rational part of her brain reminded her why she was here – to find out more about Kai and what was going on at the Mackinnon Arms, so she could achieve justice for the deaths of two girls. Not prove to herself how hard she was.
She studied the ageing punk more closely. There was certainly a lot to look at. There was a circle tattooed on his sternum, visible over the low-cut vest, with the word ‘Leo’ in heavy blue gothic lettering, nestling between his heavy pectoral muscles, bookended between two stylised lion’s heads.
Leo beckoned at her impatiently.
She walked up to him and inspected the chest tattoo. She looked up and into his crazy eyes.
‘Is that your star sign?’ she asked.
Leo stared at her in disbelief then laughed uproariously.
‘I like you!’ he said, and clapped her on the back. ‘Come on, come on through.’
At last, someone who can give me answers about Kai, she thought. They walked to the end of the bar and she followed him through a door marked ‘Private’. This led into the backstage hall of the pub, a large, dark and gloomy place. There was a staircase running upstairs, a back door to the Rob Roy’s yard and a couple of other doors.
Leo turned to her, frowning, all trace of good humour gone. There was an undercurrent of violence about him; she was glad that she wasn’t here to ask him any searching questions. Leo looked as if he might kick off at the slightest provocation.
‘Now that we’re alone, you’d better tell me what you want.’
‘I’m police,’ Hanlon said.
Leo nodded. ‘I guessed that. You’re not local, are you?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m not here because of anything happening in this pub. I just have a few questions about a former employee of yours, a Kai McPherson.’
His face cleared. McPherson was obviously regarded as non-controversial.
‘Kai, eh… nothing serious, then. In that case, the boss’ll see youse.’
Leo knocked on one door and opened it. They walked into a spacious office where an elderly man was sitting behind a desk overflowing with papers. He was wearing a cheap blue suit and a yellow shirt with a black tie. He was smoking a cigarette and the room smelled strongly of stale smoke. Despite this, and despite the month being June, the window was tightly shut. The smoke from the cigarette curled around the windows and a shaft of sunlight turned it blue.
The walls were wallpapered with a dark green flock design, the ceiling was magnolia but the section above the guy’s head was stained a dark yellow from the smoke that had drifted upward from his cigarette.
‘I’m Manny,’ he said, and gave a wheezing cough. ‘Frank said there was a police woman wanting to see me. Take a seat. You can wait outside, kid.’ The last remark was addressed to Leo.
Leo nodded and closed the door behind him. Manny puffed at his cigarette and looked shrewdly at Hanlon. She sat down in the chair in front of the desk.
He was about seventy, she guessed, and in terrible shape, overweight, double-chinned. He took a big sip from a glass of pale whisky; she could smell it from where she sat.
‘How can I help you? You are the police, I take it?’
It was as she suspected – what woman other than a policewoman or a stripper would be here?
‘Yes,’ said Hanlon without elaborating or offering him ID. Manny stubbed out his cigarette and lit a fresh one.
‘So, to whit dae I owe this honour?’ His expression was sardonic, good-humoured.
‘Kai McPherson – I am told that he used to work here.’ She wasn’t going to say that the information had come from The Sleeket Mouse. ‘Could you give me some background information about him?’
Manny pondered the question; he looked shrewdly at Hanlon and puffed his cigarette. The tip glowed red. Manny coughed gently. The fingers of his right hand were stained almost orange.
‘And why would you be interested in Kai, I wonder?’ he asked, pleasantly enough.
‘He is connected to an investigation that is currently ongoing,’ she said.
‘What would that be aboot?’
‘I’m not at liberty to say.’
Manny looked at her for what felt like a long time, evidently evaluating whether or not to talk to her; evidently the answer was yes.
‘Aye, he did work here.’ Manny sighed. ‘For a while.’
‘What was he like?’
‘Oh, he was fine,’ said Manny, ‘a guid enough barman.’
‘Why did he leave?’ Hanlon asked.
Manny puffed on his cigarette and wheezed slightly. ‘Well, Kai’s a bright boy but unfortunately he had a bit of a stooshie wi’ Tam, who you’ve met.’
