‘By the way, Jock, what was all that about a murder case the other night? Govanhill, I think it was McNab said.’
I had put the question as conversationally as possible, but it still sounded clunky.
‘Why you asking?’ he asked, but with no more suspicion than usual.
‘Just curious.’
‘We think it was some kind of fairy killing. A pool lifeguard called Frank Gibson who was well known in those circles apparently.’
‘How was he killed?’
Jock Ferguson looked at me suspiciously.
‘Like I said, just curiosity.’
‘Morbid bloody curiosity. He had his throat cut. From behind. Whoever did it set the flat on fire. The whole tenement nearly went up with everybody in it. Why the hell would he set the place on fire after he’d killed Gibson?’
I shrugged to signal the limit of my curiosity, but I was thinking of the burnt furniture thrown into the back court. The answer, I felt, was obvious: fire wipes out evidence. I thought too of all of the other envelopes stuffed with negatives. Maybe Downey and Gibson had been pulling the same stunt with God knows how many others. And where was Downey now?
The kind of business I was in called for discretion. A low profile. Showing my guest the window had gotten me onto the front pages of the
Archie had the papers in his car when he came to pick me up. Archie’s car was pretty much as you would expect from Archie: a black Forty-seven Morris Eight into which he seemed to have to fold himself like a penknife. We didn’t talk much as we drove across the city and down to the Gallowgate. My mind suddenly filled with the fact that I had killed a man; that my actions, not for the first time, had ended a human being’s existence. I told myself that I had not had much choice in the matter. The truth was that I had had some.
Archie clearly sensed I was not in the mood for chat and we drove in silence back to my temporary lodgings. The door opened without being knocked and we were greeted sullenly by Mr Simpson. My landlord’s demeanour had shifted from suspicious to outright hostile.
‘I’ve chchread all of this schhhite in the papers. People being flung out of windowsch. We’ve got windowsch here. You’re that Lennochsch, aren’t you?’
‘I am,’ I said and noticed my bags, packed, sitting behind him in the hall. ‘But I’ve committed no crime. I was the victim of the attack, not the perpetrator. So your windows are safe.’
‘I don’t want no trouble. No trouble. You’ll have to go.’
‘Would it help if I told you I thought the guy had an Irish accent?’ I asked, deadpan. When he didn’t answer, I leaned past him to pick up my bags. He flinched as I did so and I gave him a wink.
‘Top o’ the mornin’ t’yah!’
‘Where now, boss?’ asked Archie, once we were back in the car. His voice remained dull but there was a twinkle in the large hang-dog eyes.
‘Great Western Road,’ I said. ‘But stop at a phone box on the way so I can warn my landlady.’
The world had turned on its axis a few times since I’d last spent a night in my digs, but I had somehow expected to pick up where I had left off; and specifically where I had left off my tearoom conversation with Fiona White. But things had moved on without me, somewhat.
The telephone had been engaged and I hadn’t been able to warn Fiona White that I was on my way back. And when we pulled up at my digs I noticed two cars I didn’t recognize parked outside. The first was a dark grey Humber. It had no police markings and the driver and passenger were in civvies, but it could not have looked more like a police car if it had flat feet. I felt the distinctly novel emotion of being pleased to see a police car outside my home: Jock Ferguson, or maybe McNab himself, must have arranged it. The second car was a black three- or four- year-old Jowett Javelin PE. Too flash for the police.
Lying in my hospital bed, I had played the movie of my return home in my head: Fiona White would be all nervously-contained agitation when I arrived. She would have read about the Defenestration of Gordon Street, but it would be clear she was glad to see me, and see me in one piece. A nervous little smile would play across her lips and I would have the almost uncontrollable urge to still it with a kiss. Instead I would let her fuss around in the kitchen and make Archie and me some tea.
After Archie left, we would settle into the routine of before, drifting slowly towards whatever it was we both wanted our relationship to become.
But I could tell as soon as she answered the door that my sudden and unannounced return perturbed Fiona White. She looked startled and awkward and almost hesitated before admitting me and Archie.
I didn’t like him as soon as I set eyes on him. The main reason was, for a second, I thought I recognized him, then realized he could not be the person I took him for, because the person I took him for was dead. The face was not the same, of course, there was just a strong family resemblance to the picture on the mantelpiece above the fire. The picture of the long dead naval officer.
‘You must be the lodger …’ he said smilelessly as he stood up when we entered the living room. Tea for two with best biscuits on the coffee table. He was tanned and dressed too lightly for Glasgow and had a just-arrived- from-abroad look to him.
‘You must be the brother-in-law …’ I said flatly.
‘We’ve been reading all about your …
‘Really? Well, you see, they’ve been told to challenge anyone who has a suspicious or dodgy look to them. And I don’t really see what my rental arrangements with Mrs White have to do with you.’
‘Well, as my sister-in-law and with my brother no longer here, I feel an obligation to Fiona and the girls’ welfare.’
‘I see,’ I said. ‘And it’s taken ten years for this sense of obligation to grow on you?’
‘I’ve been away. Abroad. Working in India. But now that I’m back, I think it’s fair for you to know that things may change around here.’
‘I see,’ I said. ‘Do you take the same size slippers as your brother?’
He looked stung but I knew he didn’t have it in him to take it further.
‘That’s quite enough from both of you,’ said Fiona. ‘James, I am quite capable of organizing my own affairs. Mr Lennox, you’ve had quite an ordeal. I’m sure you want to get some rest. I’ll fix something to eat about six, if you want to join us.’
I stared at her for a minute. ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘My pleasure.’
I nodded to Archie and we headed up to my rooms. I was tired and pissed off and really wanted to smack the sneer off the smug bastard downstairs. But in the meantime I had bigger fish to fry.
‘I think your landlady is going to have to buy a bigger table,’ said Archie.
‘What are you talking about, Archie?’
‘If both of you are to get your feet under it.’
‘Oh yes, very funny.’
‘You okay here, chief? I can hang around if you want.’
‘No, Archie, that’s fine. I’m going to take a spin up to Billy Dunbar’s tonight to show him that photograph, but I can fly solo on that. You take the night off.’
I lay on my bed, smoking and aching. After about an hour I heard the front door open and voices. I went to the window and saw James White walk out to the Javelin. He turned and waved to Fiona and then looked pointedly up at my window. I looked pointedly back. The sight of him, his middle-class stability and his likeness to a long dead junior naval officer gave me a bad feeling in my gut. I had a vision of Fiona White’s future and no matter how hard I
