Last Orders (a Gus Dury crime thriller) by Tony Black Read Free Book Online Page A

clinic.
    On the way towards the Leith San Siro I felt a calm
enter my blood. My father had played there, was a kent face all round
these parts. When I thought about him now, I knew I had no feelings in my soul
for him. I knew how Caroline felt, perhaps not emphatically, but I knew the
neighbourhood of her hurts.
    She'd never be free of what her father did to her, I
knew that. She'd never lose the guilt, and the pain, and the neat store of
recriminations she'd package up and take with her wherever she went, for the
rest of her life.
    But our time was finite and the mind could sometimes be
tricked to forget. I didn't want to think about her life being written-off, I
wanted to think she was stronger than me.
    I didn't want to think about the child at all.
    Amy had gone to see the poor mite, but I didn't want to
store the image in my mind. Just now the child was merely a jumble of words and
thoughts to me; I couldn't allow it to become flesh and blood. I had a dark
place in my heart reserved just for these sentiments, and that's where I placed
that poor child.
    Amy was standing outside the Coopers Rest, oblivious to
a pack of jakies' interest in the pavement scoreline. I waved from across the
street and she nodded, dowped her fag on the wall.
    I'd asked Amy along, not as back-up or decoration, but
because she set the tone I wanted. She had edge.
    'Hello ...' I said.
    'He's inside.'
    'Already?'
    'Been here since I arrived ... why do you think I'm
standing in the street?'
    There was rarely an answer for Amy's questions.
    'Right, then ... let's do this.'
    She nodded and reached for the door handle.
    Urquhart was sitting in the snug with a bottle of
Highland Spring. Still. He had a pinched, grey pallor on him today. The look
didn't so much say he'd been rumbled, as presented a pontifical so what to the world.
    We made our approach slowly, but kept eyes on him the
whole way. On our way he stood up, and his eyes lit on Amy.
    When we were a couple of yards from his table he spoke, 'Who
is this?'
    Amy looked him up and down, she blew out her Hubba Bubba
and popped the bubble fast. Her look said an answer to his question was going
to be a long time coming. She sat down and crossed her legs towards the bar.
    'You don't ask any questions, Minister,' I said. I
called to the barman, 'Rum and coke, twice.'
    Urquhart double-blinked but stayed silent.
    As I sat down, I removed the beanie hat and spoke. 'Rum's
the condemned man's drink, Minister ... would you like to join me?'
    He stared at my bandaged head and then lowered himself
slowly into his chair, his long thin shanks brushing the rim of the table. I
could see the knees of his corduroy trousers had worn thin.
    There was silence around the table. Amy eyed Urquhart
with derision. Once in a while she'd blow out a pink bubble, just to put the
knife in him.
    'Could you stop that, please?' said Urquhart.
    'Why?' said Amy.
    He clammed, mumbled, 'It's vexatious.'
    Amy fluttered her eyelashes, leaned forward, close
enough for the minister to scent the strawberry gum on her breath, 'If someone
says stop, do you always stop, Minister ?'
    His open mouth grabbed for air, 'I beg your pardon?'
    Amy smiled, showed wide white teeth, 'Never mind.'
    Our drinks came.
    The barman left.
    I spoke up, 'Now, let's get down to brass tacks. The
cash.'
    Urquhart ruffled, 'I think I shall have my side of the
agreement fully realised before I part with any ...'
    I raised a hand, only one. It was enough to silence him,
'Hold it right there.'
    Amy slurped rum and coke through a straw. When she
clattered down the glass her masticating jaws distracted the minister, set his
attention wandering. He shuffled uneasily on his seat, 'I have had quite enough
of this performance, Mr Dury. Now I engaged your services to locate my daughter
and I demand to know what progress you have made towards that end.'
    I leaned forward, mouthed a slow whisper. 'The money.'
    Silence.
    Amy slapped a palm on the table, set the glasses
rattling as