The Last Witness by Denzil Meyrick Read Free Book Online Page B

walkin’ funny fir a couple o’ days, mind you. Mair embarrassed than anythin’ else, poor lad.’
    ‘We’ll get months mair fun fae that,’ said Jocky, holding out his glass as a silent request for it to be refilled.
    ‘Aye, so yous might.’ Annie replied, ‘Though fae whoot I saw, the boy’s got nothin’ tae be ashamed o’. In fact it’s nae wonder he got caught oot, if ye know whoot I mean.’ She winked in the direction of the policemen.
    ‘Whoot dae ye mean, Annie?’ Jocky swayed on his stool, a look of puzzlement on his face.
    ‘Well, pit it lake this if God had given you whoot he’s given Peester, we’d be callin’ you Jock the Cock, an’ no’ wee Wullie Winky.’
    Despite the revelations of the last few days, even Daley had to laugh.
    Normally, DS Scott resided at the County when his peripatetic duties brought him to Kinloch. On this occasion, though, he decided to take up Daley’s offer to stay at his and Liz’s home, a well-appointed rented bungalow on the hill above Kinloch.
    The two detectives sat on the decking at the front of the house, both wrapped up against the frosty night, while Scott smoked and fretted. After a couple of drinks in the County, Daley had decided it prudent to phone Liz, who arrived in her new Mini Countryman – a gift from her father – to pick them up. She had made lasagne, which, despite their stressful day, the detectives both tucked into heartily.
    Daley had noted with concern that his wife was picking at her meal. Her ability to never gain so much as a pound in weight belied a healthy appetite; it was most unusual to see her staring gloomily at a nearly full plate of food.
    He thought about this as he watched Scott’s cigarette smoke disappear into the starlit night. Below, the loch shimmered silver under an almost full moon; the island which stood sentinel as its mouth loomed black and silent.
    ‘This has a’ got tae be wan big scam,’ Scott declared, as, much to Daley’s chagrin, he flicked his cigarette butt over the garden fence and down the hill. Daley remained silent,watching it splutter out of sight in a momentary shower of sparks. ‘Ye know yersel, they can dae a’ sorts o’ things wi’ computers these days. That CCTV film o’ him is likely just some kind o’ trick photography.’ Scott looked hopefully at his boss.
    Daley sighed. He spotted Liz’s pale face at the kitchen window. ‘There’s no point trying to fathom this until we can get some more information from his majesty tomorrow. You can guarantee, there’ll be something he’s conveniently forgotten to tell us.’
    ‘Maybe you’re right, Jim.’ Scott lit another cigarette, puffing clouds of smoke out into the clear night. ‘I must admit, I’m pretty knackered. I’ll sleep the sleep o’ the just the night, for sure.’
    ‘Not something you do very often, Brian,’ Daley said, smiling. ‘No wonder you’re knackered – you’ve put away a hell of a lot of whisky.’ He raised his eyebrows at his DS.
    ‘Och, that’s nothin’ – the lasagne soaked it up. Don’t worry, I’ll be tip-top for the royal appointment the morrow. I’ve got some o’ that mouthwash in my bag. Bugger it,’ he said, flicking ash across the decking, ‘I’ve left the bloody stuff in the motor, back at the office.’
    ‘I’ve got a spare toothbrush,’ Daley offered as they stood up to go back inside.
    ‘Aye, that’ll be fine, but I’m no’ sae sure I’ll fit intae a pair o’ your scants.’
    Daley laughed and shut the door with a slam that echoed down the hillside to the loch.

 
     
     
    8
    Glasgow
    The night was still and frosty all over the west coast of Scotland.
    The man sat in the battered old Honda with the engine running, keeping the heater on against the chill. He stared down the acetylene-illuminated street, watching as the occasional customer entered or left the bar, wrapped up in scarves and woolly hats. From time to time one or two determined smokers would huddle around a