‘What did you do?’
‘I checked with the uni. He hadn’t turned up. I went round some of the places I thought he might be. Pubs and that. No joy. I don’t know why he went, but he really meant it. Even took his music centre.’
‘Was he in any kind of trouble that you know of? We spoke to Mr Jamieson at the University-’
Gus Hawkins allowed the distribution of coffee-mugs to defer the question. Laidlaw had Snoopy. Harkness was drinking out of a 19th-century remedy for rheumatism. Marie gave out milk and sugar. Harkness thought she was an attractive girl.
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Did Tony know a man called Paddy Collins?’
Gus tested the hotness of the coffee.
‘That sounds familiar. I think he’s mentioned him.’
‘He knew him well?’
‘Tony didn’t know anybody well.’
‘What do you mean? He was a loner?’
‘Not by choice. He tried to mix. But he was oil and everybody else was water. He just sat on the surface. He thought he knew people. He probably thought every casual chat was soul-talk. He was naive.’
‘In what way?’
‘Look. You could show Tony’s development geographically. Without going outside Byres Road. And that’s pathetic. You know what he did? When he came here? He was here before me. We’ve talked about it often. He spent a year in the Salon in Vinicombe Street. Just down the road there. Seeing some pictures three times. Whatever they were showing, that’s what he saw. If it was Tom and Jerry, he was there. He was hiding from the shock of real life. Then in his second year he did his Captain Scott. He started to go into the Rubaiyat. Then the Curlers. Then Tennents. Do you know what I mean?’
Laidlaw thought he knew. The three pubs are all in Byres Road. He supposed Gus Hawkins meant that Tony’s progress had been towards some idea of a working-class pub.
‘Then he went beyond Partick Cross. He was Vasco da Gama. The Kelvin. The Old Masonic Arms. Next stop, outer space.’
‘That’s where he seems to be now. There must have been some indication of him being under pressure.’
‘Everybody doing finals is under pressure. You don’t need the doctor’s bag to work that out.’
‘You think that’s all it was?’
Gus seemed to be savouring his coffee.
‘As far as I know.’
‘So you think he’ll turn up again?’
‘Haven’t a clue.’
‘Did you ever meet Tony’s father?’
‘No. He mentioned him a couple of times.’
‘Not more than that?’
‘Well, he seemed to put him in roughly the same bracket as leukaemia. I don’t suppose that’s something you’d want to bum about a lot.’
‘Lynsey Farren?’
‘I’ve seen her.’
‘And?’
‘Pleasant enough to talk to if you’ve got the dark bins on. She dresses like Blackpool Illuminations.’
‘What more do you know about her?’
‘She’s some kind of hand-knitted Scottish aristocracy, is she not? I just thought somebody should’ve taken the after-birth out of her eyes. I thought she was dangerously naive. But then I think most people are.’
‘Including Tony?’
‘Aye. Especially to himself.’
‘Does the name Eck Adamson mean anything to you?’
‘The old wino?’
‘That’s right.’
‘He’s been here a coupla times. Bumming off Tony.’
‘Not off you?’
‘I don’t invest in lost causes.’
‘You know when they’re lost, do you?’
‘I’ve got a fair idea.’
‘Lucky you. You reckon Tony’s one? A lost cause.’
‘I don’t know. I just think his naivety’s dangerous. Like psychic TNT, that stuff. And he had every pocket stuffed with it. It was like he’d lived so long in a sterile unit. I suppose money’s like that. Every half-boiled idea that touched him, he came down with it. He had no resistance. Because reality wasn’t where he lived. It was where he was trying to go. I mean, he’s very bright. But his brightness has no antibodies.’
‘I don’t get you,’ Harkness said.
Gus’s eyes took in the girl, looked at Harkness.
‘He gave you his face like a blank cheque. You know?’ He was enjoying holding court. ‘Anything different from what he’d had was hooking him. He mainlined anecdotes about working-class life. I used to tell him daft things. Like eating porridge out a drawer. Things I’ve only heard of. And say they happened to me. I wasn’t being nasty. Well, maybe just a wee bit.’ He smiled reflectively. ‘Mainly, I was taking the piss to teach him a lesson. Like cold turkey. But it never worked. But I liked him. Tony was all right at that time.’
‘Your liking’s past tense,’ Laidlaw said. ‘What happened?’
‘Aw, listen. I still like him. When he’s gone the rest of the road, I hope I catch up with him again.’
‘But you wouldn’t know where?’
‘No. All I mean is when the revolution comes, I hope they don’t shoot Tony. He’s one rich guy worth saving.’
‘Eck Adamson’s dead. Did you know that?’
His face gave no response.
‘No. I didn’t. But I knew it was coming.’
‘How?’
‘He worked hard at it, didn’t he?’
‘Well, actually, he got a bit of help. He was poisoned.’
‘How did they find one he hadn’t tried already?’
‘Paraquat.’
‘Aye, I suppose that would work.’
‘Oh, it did. Had you seen him lately?’
‘Tony mentioned he had been here the last night I saw him.’
‘Did he mention anything specific about the meeting?’
Gus shook his head.
‘Anything else you can think of?’
Gus shook his head. Laidlaw looked at the girl. She had spent almost the whole time watching Gus Hawkins. She looked as if her eyes were voting Gus for God. Gus looked as if he would second that.
‘What does your brother do?’ Laidlaw asked.
Gus looked up at him very carefully.
‘Sorry?’
‘I hear you’ve got a brother. What does he do?’
Gus gave him a slow, dazzling smile like the beam of a searchlight: halt, you have been spotted.
‘I wonder,’ he said. ‘I must ask him sometime.’
Laidlaw surrendered.
‘Well, thanks for your help.’
‘And for the coffee,’ Harkness said to Marie.
Laidlaw paused, noticing two picture frames on the bookshelf. They didn’t contain pictures. Inside each was a hand-written poem. Laidlaw recognised Tony Veitch’s writing. He went over for a closer look.
I am the one
Who scratches before he itches
Brings the weather indoors
Sees the pig in the rasher
Eats an egg and tastes feathers
Is everybody else’s pupil.
‘Tony called them word-photos,’ Gus said.
‘Has he written to you since he disappeared?’ Laidlaw asked.
‘He did, actually. A long letter about Marxism. Trying to show me the error of my ways. I’ve lost it.’
We are big, abandoned, bleached by sun.
We are the absence of everyone.
Held by void, we hold it,
Finite dimensions round the infinite.
We are the bones of the many
Housing the bones of the few.
‘But photos of what?’ Laidlaw said.
‘Well, they’re riddles.’ Gus was laughing. ‘You’re supposed to work them out for yourself.’
‘Just like some people’s conversation,’ Laidlaw said as they went out.
‘Not a silly boy,’ Harkness said in the car.
‘No. A bit more clued up than we are at the moment. You going to drop me off at the Burleigh? Must be this case but I’m going to need the migraine pills. You take time off and see the lady of your choice. Pick me up later for East Kilbride. How many women are you perming from these days?’