Blood Lines (27 page)

I responded to him. I would have responded to anyone who kissed me there like that. But Joe didn’t see it like that when he came into the kitchen – he only saw Jack and I sneaking away from everyone to steal some moments together. Too large a presence to sneak out and conceal his hurt, he stomped out of the room.

We had been caught.

In that split second, I knew what I felt.

Knew what I wanted.

I had made up my mind about Joe and Jack without even having to spend too long thinking about it, but I wasn’t in a position to tell Joe that. He had already headed off to the dining room and I was left with the one I knew to be the fuckwit. No matter how he might protest that he would change, that was what Jack Deans was.

And it wasn’t enough.

Maybe he was all I deserved, but I knew he wasn’t all I needed.

It was hard to face Joe as I went through to the dining room. Logic told me it wasn’t the case, but my heart felt as if I had betrayed him. Divorced or not. The ways that he had helped me over the years since the divorce had more than made up for any mistakes he’d made.

Joe was standing at the side of the fireplace away from everyone else, fastening his biker’s jacket. He looked at me without any anger. I was desperate for an argument; that would have meant there was something I could try to fix. Being like this, so quiet, made me unsettled.

As we tried not to meet each other’s eyes fully, Jack came up behind me.

‘I think it’s best if I go, Brodie,’ he said. ‘Give me a call and let me know what Frank’s got.’

As soon as Jack said the words, Joe started to unzip his jacket whilst staring at him. Jack’s words made me see Joe’s point. I was unsure whether Jack wanted to know what the evidence was to help me, or whether he simply wanted to write good copy. He never pretended to be anything other than a drunken hack, even if I, for some reason, saw something different. My hormones had blinded me to Jack’s rotten qualities and let me believe he was a better person than he really was. And I had willingly gone along with it all just for a quick one. Or two …

I couldn’t doubt that this was all hard for Joe, but the difference between the two men was that he stayed. He stayed in case I needed him.

I needed alcohol. Quickly. Lots of it.

‘Does anyone want a drink?’ I shouted.

They all started clamouring like fish on a farm at feeding time.

‘Anybody would think your throats were cut!’ Joe shouted. ‘If this was in the Doll I’d be telling my staff to keep an eye on you lot, you greedy set of buggers. Now, one at a time. Ladies first. Kailash?’

‘I’ll have a Hendrick’s gin, with finely sliced cucumber and fresh borage.’

Would she now? Trust her – anyone else would have a Gordon’s gin with flat Schweppes and, if they were lucky, a slice of lemon that had a tiny bit of life left in it.

‘I don’t have that,’ I snipped.

‘Yes, you do, I brought my own. It’s chilling in the fridge. Just bring a few leaves of borage – I brought that as well.’

It felt like a relief to escape from the dining room, but Joe followed me.

‘Don’t worry, Brodie,’ he began. ‘I’m not going to make a scene. We both know that I’ve no right to.’

‘That’s right – you divorced me.’

‘I know, and maybe I’ve lived to regret that. But remember, I didn’t sign those papers because I didn’t want you. I signed them because I thought you’d have a better life without me. Mind you, looking at the cock-up you’re making of it, I think I was wrong there too.’

He walked out of the kitchen with Kailash’s glass. I knew that all I had to do was call him back and we could start again. He had made a decision once that he was bad news for me; if I loved him, then I would have to say that I was bad luck for him too. I was facing a prison sentence for attempted murder at the very least, with possible fraud and murder charges hanging over me. By the time I got out of prison I would need an ovarian graft to have children.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge and drank it straight from the bottle. I walked into the dining room in my leathers and tight white T-shirt. I had been so busy cooking I had forgotten to change. I knew there was a love bite on my neck and I didn’t exactly look classy. They all turned to look at me as I came in.

Frank was the first to talk. ‘It’s not as bad as we feared, Brodie. Not as bad as it could have been. There’s no DNA evidence against you. The only evidence the police have is a motive for the assault. They have you in the vicinity when the attack occurred and they have a weapon.’ Frank held up a photograph of a Stanley knife.

‘What good is that to me? That’s available in any and every DIY store in the country!’

‘I know,’ smiled Frank. ‘It’s good, isn’t it?’

‘Well, it’s time to be thankful for small mercies I suppose,’ I said, feeling that I needed to cheer Frank and everyone else up. For myself, the mercies in my life seemed so damnably small, I couldn’t even find them to be grateful over.

Chapter Thirty-Five

‘Darlin’, you look terrific – have you lost weight?’

I knew Tanya Hayder was lying but I smiled politely anyway. Moses had decided that we had to pay a visit to one of the ‘premier escorts of the
Flowers of Scotland
website’. It was time to call in our markers. Tanya knew more than she had let on yet, and we needed that information now.

The Castle was a very upmarket rehab set in the Scottish Borders. The psychotherapist was from California, and had written several books – consequently, celebrities flocked from all over to pay homage at his feet. I had read one of his tomes,
What Cheerful People
Know
. It had impressed me so much that I had even tried some of the strategies. Basically, he said we were hot-wired by our genes to be scared all the time so we had to have courage even when we didn’t feel brave at all. When I drank or Tanya chased the dragon, we were just giving in to our reptilian impulses. It cost me £7.99 to follow his advice for a fortnight; here, it was costing the state £1,000 a day. I would lay good money on the truism that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Unfortunately, sitting in the sumptuous common room of The Castle, Tanya looked like a very old dog.

‘Not like you, Tanya,’ said Moses as he pulled a straight-backed dining chair out of the corner of the room, ignoring the fact that she was all skin and bones. ‘You’ve put on some weight there – your cheeks are filling out again.’ Moses didn’t slump in chairs, but rode them like horses, giving you the impression that he was on the starting line in a race, ready to bolt at any moment. Watching him in the bright sunshine, I easily imagined him grabbing the chair and smacking it off Tanya’s head if he didn’t get the answers he wanted. I think Tanya felt it too.

‘So, darlin,’ Moses continued, ‘I think you know that we’re not here to measure each other’s waistlines. I’ve been good to you in the past, and so has my friend Brodie.’

He didn’t say ‘too good to you’, but that was to be understood. Tanya shifted uncomfortably in her chair, and, although I was fond of her, she reminded me of a sewer rat. By that I mean a tremendous survivor although, as I looked at her in the harsh sunlight streaming through the full-size bay windows, even her mannerisms were reminiscent of the creature. Heroin had robbed her of her humanity.

It was fascinating how she twitched. Her small beady eyes darted between our faces, summing us up, guessing which one of us was the softest touch.

‘Brodie,’ she began.

I guess I lost in the poker-face stakes.

‘You and I go way back.’

Her head was nodding, trying to get me to agree with her. I knew as soon as I did that, then the truth was lost. I remained still. She reached out and touched me with her skinny claw-hand. I fought the urge to pull back. Using every available vein for junk destroys your circulation. Her wasted arm was mottled with purple blotches, as if she had sat by a fireside for too long.

‘See, darlin’, we understand each other.’

She patted my leg in a manner that was meant to soothe but just set my teeth on edge. Her arm twisted just enough to show me the pale underside. Barely healed puncture marks were visible.

‘What the fuck!’

Moses grabbed the same arm so hard that I thought he had broken it. The patient who was sitting quietly in the corner scurried out of the room, sensing the trouble before it had even fully begun.

Alone now, Moses squeezed Tanya’s arm so hard it brought tears to her eyes. She was an excellent actress, but Moses wasn’t falling for any of it. As soon as she knew that the victim role wouldn’t work, she became angry, spitting like a cat trying to bite him. Moses jumped back and slammed her head into the wall. He wasn’t dealing with someone that he thought would understand anything but the language of violence – Tanya was just an Edinburgh junkie. ‘Shut the door, Brodie. If we want anything out of this bitch we’re going to have to make her talk. And I, for one, am looking forward to it.’

My feet sunk into the thick carpet. I couldn’t stop to think of the rights and wrongs of this situation. Could I plead the Nuremberg Defence? Who would believe that I would take orders from a barely literate boy? Moses knew best how to handle this situation – there were too many people depending on me for squeamishness to come into it.

‘We can do this the easy way, Tanya,’ said Moses, ‘or we can do it the hard way. I know you’ve got a stash. If you don’t want me to grass you up to the people who run this place then you’d better start talking.’

All the fight left Tanya. She returned to her chair, deflated. There was no pretence at niceness, no camaraderie or talking of old times. Maybe it was the first time that I truly understood that when you’re dealing with a junkie, they have no soul to negotiate with.

‘I’m not going to ask you how you got the smack – it’s not my business. It’s enough for you to know that I know, and I won’t hesitate to get you thrown out of here and straight into the poky.’

She flicked her matted stringy hair out of her face.

‘What do you want to know, you little shit?’

Moses handed her the diary.

‘You a tranny boy these days?’ she said, flicking through it.

Moses didn’t rise to her insults. Despite appearances, he generally abhorred gratuitous violence.

‘Keep your smart comments to yourself, waster, and tell me about these ships.’

‘What am I? A fucking sailor?’

‘No, but you’ve shagged enough of them to make a stab at it – now, tell me about those boats.’

Tanya started squirming again. I wondered if she had pissed herself; it wouldn’t be the first time a client had done that. I checked under the chair but the carpet was still in pristine condition.

‘You might be scared of whoever you think you’re protecting, but I can’t see any of them around. Me? I’m here and I’m seriously annoyed.’

‘Your mouth’s full of shite, Moses,’ Tanya replied, cocking her head towards me. ‘She’s a lawyer; she’ll not let you near me. They’ve got rules.’

I reached over and grabbed her T-shirt.

I could feel the bones of her chest against my fingertips. I stood up and picked her up with one hand – she only weighed about six and a half stone but the action still stretched me.

‘My bosses in the Law Society keep telling me that there are rules to follow as well, Tanya. I don’t listen to them either. I’m facing at least fifteen years for stuff I didn’t do, I can take a bit extra for roughing you up. Now look at me and listen.’

With my free hand I pushed her face in front of mine so that she was forced to look into my eyes. Addicts hate to look you in the eye because their confidence has gone. I pointed to Moses without looking at him. ‘I’m his witness that you struck the first blow and he thought you had a knife. Now answer his questions and be quick about it.’

The Leither was coming out in me now that my back was against the wall. After days of being at the mercy of others, it felt great, even if I was picking on the weakest in the pack.

‘Tell me about these boats,’ I said.

‘They’re fishing boats.’

‘Where from?’

‘Peterhead.’

‘What are they bringing in?’

‘What do you think? It’s not fags.’

‘Tell me the types of drugs they’re hauling.’ I resisted slapping her as I said it.

‘Heroin from Pakistan.’

‘Nothing else?’

Tanya shook her head emphatically. Maybe she thought that if she dramatically denied everything, we would believe her. Moses looked perplexed. He didn’t supply heroin or crack cocaine on moral grounds. So whoever was muscling in on his supply chain got their recreational drugs from somewhere else.

‘Who’s the Mr Big, Tanya?’

Tanya laughed so hard at Moses that she fell off her chair. The drama-queen act was wearing thin.

‘Oh, you crack me up, you do. What’s with the lingo, Moses? Been watching too many cop shows? And are you expecting me to do your job for you now? Work everything out for poor wee Moses? I’d heard you’d gone soft. I never believed it until now.’

The overacting victim turned in a second and spat at him. A greenish glob of mucus left a snail-like trail down his face. Moses took a paper handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped it away. He didn’t retaliate, which made a shiver run through me. The last time he had seemed to be calm in the face of insults, he had moved on to slicing a man’s eyes out – I wondered whether this silence was more than him just losing his bottle? It would be hard either way. If Moses had lost his guts then what would I do?

Suddenly, I remembered the guru who ran this place and the £7.99 piece of advice he’d given me.

WE ARE ALL ALWAYS AFRAID.
BUT SOME HAVE THE COURAGE TO ACT.

 I picked Tanya up by the scruff of the neck and threw her against the wall. It didn’t really hurt her but it was theatrical to watch – I’ve had years of being a drama queen, just ask Joe, and I wasn’t prepared to give up my title yet.

‘He might have lost the lead out of his pencil, Tanya, but I’m just getting mine.’

I thought about throwing in a ‘bitch’ to sound suitably tough, but even though my mind was working fast with all the adrenalin, I wasn’t quite quick enough to get my dialogue perfect.