Torch by Lin Anderson Read Free Book Online Page B

building. The
people nobody noticed or if they did they looked straight ahead and
pretended they hadn’t. The people who were an embarrassment to the
good folks of Edinburgh. A bit like himself.
    Outside the
streets were glistening in a light frost. Jaz stuck his hands in
his pockets, whistled lightly to Emps to follow and set off for the
Grassmarket.
    To the
tourists, the Grassmarket meant pubs and eateries. Jaz knew it
better than that. To Jaz, the down and outs who sat begging from
passers by, gave the place its character. At night, they clogged
the alleys and jammed the doorways. These were the long stay
patrons of Edinburgh’s underbelly; the ex-servicemen whose lives
had fallen apart, the drunks and the addicts.
    Traffic was
beginning to flow along Chambers Street as he passed the Museum of
Scotland and headed down by Greyfriars churchyard to the Cowgate.
The men’s hostel on the corner was closed but there was an old guy
coughing up spit on the front steps. Jaz recognised him.
    The Bruce
wasn’t one to miss a chance. He had his hand out right away.
    ‘Any change
Mister?’
    Jaz dropped a
pound coin plus fifty pence in the dirty palm and the face lit up.
The price of a can of extra strong lager. Breakfast had
arrived.
    ‘Ah, you’re
alright son.’
    ‘It’s me.
Jaz.’
    The old guy’s
face worked hard on focusing.
    ‘I’m looking
for Mary,’ Jaz explained.
    The face
changed to suspicion. ‘What d’you want the Queen for?’
    ‘I need to talk
to her.’
    ‘The Queen
doesn’t talk. Not sense anyway.’
    The old guy was
shuffling off towards a High Street newsagent and off licence open
early enough for breakfast. Jaz walked beside him.
    ‘I heard Mary
had a little trouble.’
    ‘What’s it to
you?’
    They were
nearing the shop. There was anticipation in the old man’s step. In
his head, he was already swallowing the lager, feeling the surge as
the alcohol met his brain. He might be a drunk, but he was shrewd.
If Jaz wanted information, he would pay for it.
    The owner was
pulling up the safety grill, lifting the big bags of delivered
rolls from the shop doorway.
    ‘We could buy
four cans and a couple of rolls,’ Jaz said. ‘Keep you going for a
while.’
    The old guy was
summing up the offer. ‘Forget the fuckin rolls and make it half a
dozen cans.’
    Jaz nodded. It
would skin him but he needed to talk to Mary. If what he’d heard
was true, she might know who lit the fire.
    The Bruce
waited till the money was across the counter and the pack of lager
in his hands.
    ‘The Queen’s in
the Infirmary. Some bastard tried to get her out of a squat. She
wouldn’t go so he set her hair alight.’
    ‘Was it the
same guy she told The Wallace about?’
    ‘The same one.’
The Bruce laughed. ‘Stupid bitch is cracking up. No drink allowed
in the hospital.’ His laugh sounded like dirty water going down a
blocked drain. ‘She wants The Wallace and me to rescue her.’
    Then he was off
across the road to a wooden bench. Breakfast was served.
    There was no
point turning up at the hospital until nearer official visiting
time. If Queen Mary knew anything, he would find out soon enough.
Jaz headed for his pitch outside Waverley, his mind turning over
what he should do after that. All he knew was Karen shouldn’t have
died. Whoever lit that fire was responsible for her death. If the
police didn’t find him, he would do it himself.
     

Chapter
10
     
    ‘We found a
leather pouch round her waist. The pocket was at the front so it
escaped much of the heat. It held some coins, and this.’
    Dr MacKenzie
handed Rhona a photograph. The bright young face stared out at her,
side by side with the Alsatian. Rhona wondered how the girl had
persuaded the dog into the booth, then made it sit in such a way
they were both visible for the flash. The dog’s tongue hung out,
long and pink and dripping. It had a grin on to match its
mistress’s.
    ‘She had just
about enough money for her next meal, a penny whistle and a