Thomson brought his bottle out and shook it. ‘Got mine right here.’ He lifted it to his lips and drained it. Ballater knew this was the moment. He could shove with the heel of his hand, sending the neck of the bottle past Thomson’s splintering teeth and deep down his throat. Instead of which, he gave a convincing-sounding laugh.
‘You’re some boy, Spanner. Drinks are on me when we get to Whiskies.’
‘Price they charge in there, I just might take you up on that.’
The two men started walking, their destination not far now. Thomson tossed the empty bottle over one shoulder. It shattered as it hit the pavement. Neither man so much as turned their head.
Eyes front.
Never look back.
Quiet all the way to the club, each digging deep into his own thoughts and schemes.
31
Spanner had the taxi drop him off outside Springburn Park. It was well enough lit and the teenagers hanging around there knew better than to try messing with him. He found himself standing next to the taped-off section where the knife had been planted. It wasn’t near any stretch of roadway or pavement. You had to walk towards the centre of the park to reach it. He wondered if whoever had left the knife there had been crossing the park, maybe intending to deposit it closer to the house. But that would have been too obvious a set-up. Further away was better; further away told the story of a killer who finds panic setting in as they return to their senses. So they toss the weapon, suddenly keen to get rid of it.
Putting Spanner Thomson firmly in the frame.
He had told Ballater that he doubted John Rhodes had known his address until the police had come to call. But Mickey Ballater himself knew it, as did Panda Paterson and Dod Menzies. Several times he’d treated them to drinks in the back garden, Mary handing round meat-paste sandwiches from which she’d removed the crusts. Cam had been there too, of course, taking him aside to try to persuade him to buy somewhere grander in a nicer part of town.
‘Otherwise people will start saying I’m not looking after you — and we both know that’s not true.’
But Spanner had grown up on the streets of Balornock. He felt safe there. And with no kids to show for his fourteen years of marriage, why would he need anything bigger? The money he brought home went to Mary, and she squirrelled anything they didn’t need into a building society account. There was some cash she didn’t know about, of course, set aside by Spanner in case he ever needed a quick getaway. He’d actually thought about it after that visit to Central Division. Two things stopped him. One was that it would make him look all the guiltier in everyone’s eyes, Cam included. The other was that he was raging inside, with a need to find out who was stitching him up.
Someone who knew that empty chair was his by right.
Someone who knew his address.
Someone very like Mickey Ballater.
He paused at the gate leading to his house, then continued past to the nearest phone box. It smelled of pee inside, but at least there was a dial tone when he lifted the receiver, having first pulled his sleeve down to cover his hand, wary of germs. He dialled the number and pushed home a coin when Cam Colvin answered.
‘It’s me, Cam.’
‘I know that, Spanner — who else calls me from a public phone? What’s on your mind at this time of night?’
Thomson could hear soft music playing in the background, either a record or the radio.
‘Sorry to be interrupting your evening.’
‘I assume there’s news that can’t wait.’
He exhaled noisily. ‘It’s maybe nothing, but I’ve been talking to Mickey.’
‘Oh aye?’ ‘I’m not sure you can trust him. I mean, you maybe think you can’t trust me either — he told me you’d ordered him to keep an eye on me...’
‘Did he now?’
‘But swear to God I’m not the one you should be watching,’ Thomson blurted out. ‘It won’t take much for him to jump ship — always supposing he can’t have your job. That’s what I think he’s interested in; not Bobby’s chair but yours, and I doubt he’s too bothered how that comes about.’ He paused. ‘And there’s another thing — I saw him with Monica, at that party of Bobby’s back in the summer. They were having a snog.’
There was a lengthening silence on the line.
‘Are you sure about that, Spanner?’ Colvin eventually asked, sounding as if he were working hard to keep his emotions in check.
You really think you’re in with a chance there, don’t you, Cam, now that Bobby’s out of the picture? Could that really be why he had to be got rid of?
‘I know what I saw,’ Thomson heard himself say. It was as if he were floating in the space between the top of his head and the roof of the phone box, watching someone else inhabit his body. ‘Mickey says he tried his luck but she was having none of it. That’s not how it looked to me, though.’
‘You think they were seeing one another behind Bobby’s back?’
‘Honest answer is, I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him.’
‘I might have to do that, Spanner.’
Thomson opened his mouth to say something further, but the line had already gone dead.
As he navigated the short distance back to his home, his bed and his waiting wife, he felt a sadness wrapping itself around him. His universe had been both comprehensible and robust until Bobby Carter’s death. Now it was anything but. The feeling of unease was both unusual and unwelcome. Something would have to be done about it.
Something would be done about it.
Day Six
32
Roy Chambers’ decorating business had its headquarters in Partick. The mid-morning air was chill, Laidlaw’s breath appearing before him in little puffs as he strode along the pavement. A double-decker wheezed past, its windows misted over. None of the passengers had bothered wiping them clean, there being nothing outside worthy of their attention. RC Interiors boasted a swish name but comprised a single window containing a display of wallpaper sample books and two rolls of wood-chip, and a door whose glazed upper half was stickered with adverts for paint manufacturers. There was also a sign. The sign read CLOSED. Laidlaw tried the door anyway. It was locked. He gave it a thump and a kick. Eventually a young woman appeared from the back of the shop. She peered at him and kept the chain on when she unlocked the door. He pressed his warrant card into the gap.
‘I’m looking to speak to Roy,’ he said.
She closed the door long enough to remove the chain, then opened it again.
‘Can’t be too careful,’ she said.
‘Especially when there’s so much treasure within,’ Laidlaw agreed.
‘Roy’s out on a job. I run the office for him.’
Laidlaw nodded his understanding. She was in her late teens, stout but self-aware and comfortable with the fact. She was done up to the nines, as though at any moment she might have to present herself as the public face of RC Interiors. She had been raised to dress well, give a good account of herself and take no nonsense.
‘Are you family?’
‘I’m his niece. What has he done wrong?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
‘I didn’t ask because I can’t imagine him ever doing something that would bring the likes of you running.’
‘Yet here the likes of me stands, unless you’re going to invite me in.’