I let it pass and waved them goodbye, then took a taxi out to the address in the west of the city which Noosh had given me. I wouldn’t have felt right if I had left without checking that her protection was in place.
Detective Superintendent Francey had been as good as his word. There was a car parked just across the street from her small granite bungalow; two guys were sat in it, and I guessed that they weren’t looking for unlicensed television sets. I gave them a cheery wave as I opened the garden gate, before they could start worrying about me. I don’t suppose many hitmen arrive by taxi, but I didn’t want anyone to get nervous.
In a way, stepping into that living room was like a trip into the past. I recognised the sofa, the two recliner armchairs, upholstered in soft grey fabric, and the low coffee table. They had all been in the flat in Castle Terrace, in Edinburgh, which she and Jan had shared. Noosh’s manner, too, was the same as it had been then; not unfriendly, but cool and appraising.
‘You all right?’ I asked her.
‘I’ve been better. I have a sore bum, for one thing.’ She smiled. ‘But at least it doesn’t have a bullet in it.’
‘You’re safe now, anyway. Those guys across the road are pretty obvious.’ I looked around the room. ‘Do you live alone?’
‘Oh yes.’ She nodded, pausing for a moment. ‘I don’t think I’ll live with anyone again,’ she ventured. ‘Too dangerous. There can be too much hurt involved.’
Suddenly she looked vulnerable, and I thought of her in a way I never had before. ‘Noosh,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry. I never meant for that to happen.’
‘I know you didn’t, Oz. Nor did Jan. But the two of you, you didn’t really know what you were doing then. You were afraid of commitment, both of you; it was as if you had decided that there were wild oats you had to sow before then.’ She chuckled, sadly. ‘I guess that I was the field; and so was Primavera.’ With her faintly European accent she pronounced the ‘v’ softly, almost as an ‘f’.
‘When you came to Castle Terrace with her that day, looking for help, at first I thought, “This is great. He’s getting out of Jan’s life at last.” That lasted for a few minutes, until I realised that it would have the opposite effect. There was something in the way you and Jan looked at each other that day, that told me how it would end.’
‘You might have told me, then.’ The words burst from me; I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice.
Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh Oz, my dear, I didn’t mean that. I could tell that you had to be together, that’s all. Even when you went off, all lusty for Primavera, I knew better than you did.’
‘You’ve changed a lot, you know. You were just a boy then, an irresponsible, crazy boy. But now you’ve grown up.’ She smiled at me again, as she never had before. ‘Now you’re a crazy man.
‘Seriously, after all that’s happened, I’m glad that things have worked out for you and Primavera. Like I said, she and I had something in common back then; we were both ditched. She must have loved you all along.
‘Just you two be lucky from now on.’
‘If you only knew the half of it, Anoushka. The way it’s been lately, lucky’s my middle name.’ I glanced out of the window, at my waiting taxi.
‘Look,’ I told her, ‘I’m dining with the gang tonight, so’ll need to be going.’ I took a card from my wallet and handed it to her. ‘There are all my numbers, home, office, mobile and e-mail. The boys outside will look after you, I’ve no doubt, but if you have any more trouble, or threats — or even if you just feel a bit nervous — get in touch with me any time.’
She walked me to her front door. Holding the round brass handle, she raised herself up on her toes and kissed me lightly on the lips. ‘Be good,’ she whispered. ‘I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Luck doesn’t last for ever; but then, I suppose you know that more than most.’
Chapter 20
‘Did the Grampian guys say anything to you? Did they tell you whether they had any leads at all?’
‘They told us bugger all, Mike. They just asked questions, that was all.’ Dylan had a day off, so he and I were in the Horseshoe for a Thursday lunchtime pint, pie and beans.
I had said nothing at all to Prim about my Aberdeen adventure, after making sure that the press hadn’t blown it up. There had been some local coverage, in the Evening Express and on NorthSound about the police being called to the scene, but the force press office had written it off as a false alarm. Kiki Eldon, Miles’ unit publicist, had done a good job too, spreading a few tenners around among the extras just to emphasise the point, as it were.
I had told her about meeting Noosh, on the off-chance that she did phone, or send me an e-mail. She had been interested, and pleased that there were no hard feelings, but that had been that.
Nevertheless, I was still suffering after-effects from the incident — like waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat — so when Dylan had called proposing a Horseshoe session I had jumped at the chance; not because I’m a great lunchtime boozer, but because I needed to talk to someone.
He had sat there quite calmly as I told him the story. I was a bit huffed; I had expected him to be more impressed.
‘They would ask questions, Oz,’ he mumbled, indistinctly, through a mouthful of pie. ‘It’s their job; I just wondered whether they’d told you what they were thinking.’
‘I got the impression that they weren’t thinking too hard. All they really did was ask us what we thought.’
Dylan nodded. ‘Standard procedure; more often than not the victims will tell you who did it, even if they don’t know themselves, or if they do but are trying to protect someone. See you, Oz, you’re a romantic when it comes to criminal investigation. You think the answer always comes in a flash of brilliance, like a revelation from God, or your Uncle Bob, or somebody.’
‘You mean that isn’t what happens?’ I asked him innocently. ‘That’s how it’s always worked for me.’
‘Sure,’ my friend countered, ‘after you’ve picked your way through a pile of casualties. Your blinding light always strikes you too late.’ A flash of uncertainty in his eyes told me that he knew he’d dropped a clanger, but he decided, rightly, that the best way to deal with it was to blunder on to the next outrage. ‘I’m a detective, pal,’ he continued. ‘You’re a chancer.’
I couldn’t let that one past. ‘Is that right, Detective Inspector? In that case, which of us has the better clear-up rate?’
‘Clear-up rate? You, what have you cleared up, except the empties from the night before and the Durex from under the bed?’
‘Well,’ I countered, feeling my eyes narrow a bit, ‘for a start there was the guy two years ago. I got him, didn’t I.’
‘He was barking mad, Oz. Christ, he was banging your enormous pal’s wife; that’s how nuts he was.’
‘Nonetheless, I got him; you lot didn’t.’
‘We might have, if your pal had reported it as a crime long before he did.’
‘There were reasons for that. And that business with the painting out in Spain that Prim and I were involved in. We got a result there too; and what a result.’
‘The way you tell the story, the guy confessed to you.’
‘Sure, but we’d worked it out by then. Anyway, what about the wee stockbroker in Edinburgh, the one who was found dead in Prim’s flat? That’s still on the unsolved list, is it not, despite you and ex-Superintendent Ross being hot on the trail?’
Dylan frowned. He always does when I bring that one up. ‘We reckoned the wife did it; you know that. The Crown Office wouldn’t prosecute, that was all.’
‘That’s balls, Michael, and you know it. Your boss Ricky thought that Dawn did it. He even had me in the frame at one point; or so you told me. As for Linda Kane, no way did she do it.’
‘You still let us arrest her, though.’
‘Well? The cow did try to kill Dawn, Prim and me. Too effing right we let you arrest her.’
‘You know, Blackstone,’ Mike growled; he only calls me by my surname when he’s on a fishing trip. ‘I think you’re hinting that you got a result there too.’