‘I never even let him shag me!’ she had screamed, before making a second exit. He had glared at his wife.
‘She did sleep with McAllister, then? I dare say you knew all about that, too?’
Could anyone blame him for wanting to stay a few extra minutes in the dressing room? He could feel the padlock in his pocket, next to his referee’s whistle and stopwatch. Once he’d locked up, there would be no alternative but to head home for another wordless evening meal, followed by a few generous whiskies and a silenced bed.
When the door creaked open, he reckoned at first that Geoff Inglis’s brain cells had kicked in, driving him to a speedy decision. But the two men who entered were strangers to him and didn’t look in the least bit friendly.
‘Archie Love?’ one of them asked.
‘Who wants to know?’
The questioner towered over Love, staring down at him. ‘You’re Archie Love,’ he said with a humourless smile. ‘Your photo was in the paper when you played for Rangers.’
‘Your memory’s better than your attitude, son.’ Love started to get to his feet, but the man pushed down on one of his shoulders, hinting that he should stay seated. Love noted that the other man — stockier, one hand tucked inside his coat — was toeing open some of the empty lockers.
‘Nothing worth nicking here,’ Love informed him.
‘Got a few questions for you about your daughter,’ the first man stated. ‘The one who strips for a living.’
‘She dances, that’s all.’ Love bristled. ‘In a skirt short enough to get every crotch in the place bulging.’
Love sprang to his feet, shoving aside the hand that had been holding him down. That same hand shot forward into his gut, winding him, nearly causing his knees to buckle.
‘You’re not being very clever,’ the man said. ‘Matt Mason doesn’t like a stupid lackey. They tend to end up retired with no pension.’
‘I don’t work for Matt Mason,’ Love said, wincing with the effort.
‘You do, though. It was the first thing people told us when we started asking about you. So if you were reckoning it a well-kept secret, you might want to think again.’
Love saw that the other man had grown bored of checking the lockers and had taken a couple of steps closer to the bench. His hand was no longer inside his coat. Instead, it was clutching a new-looking industrial-sized spanner. Love knew what that meant, knew that a man going by the name of Spanner Thomson was muscle for Cam Colvin.
‘I had nothing to do with whatever happened to Bobby Carter,’ he blurted out.
‘Your daughter was seeing a married man, Archie. That can’t have appealed to you, surely.’
‘Which is why she kept it from me — her and her mum both.’
‘How about Chick McAllister? Do you still see him around the place?’
‘No.’
‘You sure about that?’
Love had opened his mouth to speak when the spanner caught him square on his forehead. This time he did drop to his knees, raising one arm over his skull to ward off further blows. The man who wasn’t Thomson leaned down and hooked a finger under his chin, angling his face upwards.
‘Does Matt Mason have designs on our boss’s territory?’
‘How the hell would I know?’
‘Because from what I hear, some people still look up to you — fuck knows why, but they do. And to impress you, they might want to tell you things.’
‘I don’t know the first thing about Matt Mason’s business.’
‘So what did you say to the police when they spoke to you?’
Love bit down hard on his bottom lip. Someone had grassed on him — had to be one of his two assistants. They knew cops when they saw them. Probably knew about Jennifer and Carter, too. But they had kept that to themselves, teasing him behind his back, smirking and laughing.
‘I didn’t know anything about my daughter and Carter until he told me.’
‘He being...?’
‘Laidlaw, he said his name was. Big guy, smoker, lot going on behind the eyes.’
‘We know Laidlaw. Why was he talking to you?’
The spanner’s cold steel had come to rest against Love’s left cheek, clamouring for his attention.
‘Because of Jennifer. He seemed interested in Chick McAllister, too.’
‘You know McAllister works for John Rhodes?’ The man watched as Archie Love gave a nod. ‘You knew that back when they were winching?’ Another nod. ‘What did Matt Mason have to say about that?’
‘Family was family, he said, just so long as it didn’t interfere with business.’
‘Well, Bobby Carter was our business partner, but he was practically family, too. So we’re taking his death a bit more personally, if you understand what I mean. If we have a wee word with your daughter, what will she tell us?’
‘There’s no need for that.’
‘What will she tell us?’ the man persisted.
‘There’s nothing to tell. Bobby Carter liked her well enough, but a friend was all he was going to get and that wasn’t satisfactory. They split up without really falling out. Next night, she saw him out on the pull again, as if she hadn’t meant much of anything to him at all.’
‘Jenni told you that?’
‘Her mum did, eventually.’
‘The night she saw him, did he have anyone in his sights in particular?’
‘I can ask her.’
‘But will you ask her properly, so we don’t have to?’
Love’s nod this time was more resolute.
‘What do you think, Spanner? You reckon Mr Love here knows that if we’re unhappy with the results, we’ll be back wearing our pissed-off faces?’
In answer, the spanner rose up, coming down hard on Love’s shoulder blade. He gasped in pain. The finger had been removed from his chin, and he dropped to all fours.
‘Fair warning,’ he heard the first man say.
Blinking his eyes clear of tears, he saw the two pairs of well-shod feet moving towards the door. It slammed shut after them. He hauled himself back onto the bench, breathing hard, his whole body sparking from the encounter. There were bits of mud and grass between his fingers. Only an hour before, he’d felt in charge, issuing orders and advice, a king of sorts.
He felt so much less than that now. And for the first time since his footballing career had ended in ignominy, Archie Love allowed himself to weep.
30
That evening, Spanner Thomson and Mickey Ballater hit a few pubs. To start with, Panda and Dod were with them and all four pretended they were digging up information. They even pulled a few known faces to one side and asked some questions. What was the word on Bobby Carter’s demise? Any whispers about John Rhodes or Matt Mason? Eventually, Panda and Dod peeled off, leaving Spanner and Mickey at a corner table — vacated for their benefit — in yet another nondescript howff peopled by regulars who knew better than to bother them. Spanner Thomson drank bottled beer — not trusting the stuff out of the tap, explaining to Mickey that bottles were infinitely more hygienic, especially if you didn’t then use a glass. Ballater himself was on the vodka, diluted with sweetened orange juice.
‘Let’s skedaddle,’ Ballater eventually said. ‘This place is boring the tits off me.’
‘The casino?’
‘I was thinking Whiskies. Eye up a few of the birds.’
‘Would those birds include Jenni Love?’
‘You know me too well, Spanner.’ A grin spread across Mickey Ballater’s face.
It was mild enough for them to walk. A drunk staggered into them almost as soon as they were on the pavement. Thomson gave the man a shove hard enough to send him flying. A couple of other pedestrians looked ready to step in until they saw who they’d be dealing with. Thomson and Ballater felt that they fully owned these streets as they strode through them. Clusters of hardened men parted like the Red Sea, so they had no need to steer anything but a straight course. A shame, actually. Ever since he’d watched the spanner connect with Love’s forehead, Mickey Ballater had been wanting to enact some violent action of his own.