How To Kill Friends And Implicate People (20 page)

SIXTY

SAM

11:04

Criminals in Glasgow tend not to trust banks, or bankers. Polis could gain access to bank accounts, and, even worse, so could HMRC. The bigger fish use companies to manage their assets and massage the figures.

People on Cal’s level use
money men.
They’re walking savings accounts, and a place to go when people like Cal need some cash to walk around with.

If you need to find someone who has gone to ground, always start with the money.

When I’d first met Gary Fraser, he’d been a dealer. He could get you pot, weed, coke. Maybe at a push he could get guns. But dealers were also a good source for cash, so people had started hitting him up for loans.

The city’s most established money man, Gilbert Neil, had been killed and Gary had switched careers. He was now a walking bank, with the added bonus that he could get his customers high if they needed to relax.

I locked my bike up outside Lebowskis and walked in. Even at 11 a.m., the lighting inside kept the room at a permanent dusk. It was the right level of illumination to make all the spirits behind the bar look perfect.

Gary was sat at the bar.

I wondered if the staff kept that seat for him when he was away, because I’d never seen anybody else sat there. Gary was about the same height as me, and the kind of skinny that pisses most men off. He’d gone through a few looks in the time I’d known him, but now he was trying to look respectable and made of money. He’d grown a beard that he kept well groomed, and he was wearing a shirt and tie.

He nodded his chin upwards in greeting as I walked toward him. ‘’Right?’

‘Hiya.’

I pulled up a stool and asked the barman for a glass of water. Gary frowned at me. When your office is a bar, there’s no such thing as ‘too early to drink’. If the doors are open, it’s the right time.

‘Listen, Sam, you know my heart will always be yours, but I cannae talk about any kinky stuff. I’m a married man now.’

‘I heard.’

‘But seriously.’ He leaned in close. ‘Maybe if we’re quiet about it. You free tonight?’

‘Cal Gibson.’

‘Aww shite.’ He leaned back with a heavy sigh. ‘That fud’s always ruining the mood. What’s he done this time?’

‘You bank for him, aye?’

‘You know I can’t—’

‘Gaz, let’s skip the data protection stuff. You’re not a real bank. I’m not a polis. Let’s just be real and talk about what I need to know.’

Gary looked impressed. He pursed his lips together and nodded. His expression said,
Way to go.
‘You’ve toughened up,’ he said. ‘So, about tonight. Are you a fan of toys?’

‘Has Cal contacted you in the last day or so?’

‘Okay, we’re really doing this? Nah. I haven’t seen Cal in a couple days. He came by the day before yesterday, Monday? He was needing some money in his pocket. He had some big deal lined up, and had that Paula with him.’

They were here together?

I tried something. ‘I didn’t think Paula liked Cal.’

Total stab in the dark. I didn’t know either of them, and had no idea what kind of relationship they’d had. But if Cal was blackmailing her, then it seemed a good guess that they weren’t exactly friends.

‘Nobody really likes Cal,’ Gary said. ‘But she was in on whatever scam it was he was working on.’

‘Did he say what it was?’

‘Nope. See, when it’s Cal? I don’t bother asking. That only goes two ways. He tells me, and then I get in trouble later for knowing it, or tells me, and it’s so stupid that I have to laugh in his face. You know he keeps talking about how he’s going to pull a Babycham.’

‘A what?’

Gary shrugged with his hands. ‘It’s what he calls a big crime. A masterwork.’

‘That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.’

‘Oh, talk to Cal more, there’s plenty where that came from.’

I waved at the barman then asked him to pour whatever Gary was drinking. It wasn’t a drink that needed pouring. He placed a bottled drink on the counter in front of us, one of those flavoured cider things.

‘So he was planning something big, and he hasn’t been in touch since?’

‘Nope. You’re thinking he burned down his old man’s place, aren’t you?’

When I didn’t answer he just smiled, like,
I hear everything.
Then he picked up the bottled cider off the counter and raised it in a toast to me. ‘Cheers.’

Hang on.

Wait.

Back up.

If Gary knew Paula, maybe there was a chance here to get something the cops hadn’t been able to find. ‘Did Paula bank with you?’ I said.

‘I gave her a couple loans.’

My heart picked up speed. ‘Do you know her address?’

SIXTY-ONE

ALEX

11:00

Alex had been given a set of high-quality golf clubs once, by a footballer client.

He didn’t play golf. Didn’t care about golf. Didn’t even know how to tell the top of the range clubs from the cheap ones.

Weren’t they all just bits of metal, really? With round bits on the end, and flat bits, and hooked bits. Just tools for hitting things. Like expensive hammers that came in a big leather bag.

But Alex was terrible at throwing stuff away. And he was obsessed with his own status. When a rich client gave him something, he would treasure it like an Academy Award. In the case of the golf clubs, they had travelled with him on the move to Scotland, before being abandoned in the garage, never to be seen or touched.

Until now.

This seemed like the perfect time to practise his swing.

Alex lifted a club out of the bag. One with a big round end. He climbed the stairs and pressed his ear to the bedroom door. There was some serious kissing going on.

He lifted the club and kicked open the door.

Kara was lying on top of the kid on the bed. Her tongue was down his throat and she held his dick in her right hand like a joystick. All things considered, Alex had to admit, it was a pretty impressive piece of equipment. When he finally got a look at the guy’s face, he recognised him.

Milo something-or-other.

The cocky kid from Kara’s football team.

Of all the—

—Wait, was that a Yoda tattoo?

Milo reacted first. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He started to crawl backward across the bed, and let out a comical high-pitched yelping sound. Kara turned to look up at Alex. Her face ran through a range of emotions in the span of just a few seconds. Alex saw surprise, then shock, and maybe a little fear.

The final expression was one he’d seen every time he’d said something she didn’t like.

‘Seriously?’ she said.

That wasn’t what Alex would have expected.

He stepped forward and swung the club at Milo. He connected with the footballer’s shin, and felt the solid thud vibrate back up his arm. Milo screamed and pulled his leg up toward his chest, and rolled backward off the bed in the process. He landed with a thud.

Alex turned to glare at Kara.

‘You couldn’t even wait until my corpse was cold?’

‘Well,’ she stuttered a little. Alex was glad to see that there was at least some fear under the calm front. ‘You’re not
. . .
dead?’

‘That’s a technicality.’ Alex’s voice was wounded and desperate, even to his own ears. ‘You didn’t know that.’

‘My leg,’ Milo wailed, out of sight down below the other side of the bed.

That reminds me
, Alex thought.

He ran around the bed and lifted the club high, holding it halfway down the shaft to get the weight right. He swung for another shot. This one made a solid impact on Milo’s shoulder, and the noise the little prick made was most pleasant.

He lifted the club again, but Kara climbed across the bed and made a grab for it. ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Wait.’

‘I’ve
been
waiting,’ Alex shouted. Spit flecked his words. ‘Waiting to surprise you.’

‘I’m surprised,’ Kara said, with the hint of a smile.

‘I think I need an ambulance,’ Milo said. His voice was as thin as his frame.

‘Honey.’ Kara moved closer to Alex. She started rubbing his legs, running her hands up his belly and chest. ‘Baby. I thought you were
dead.
I thought, I don’t know what I thought. I just needed—’

‘999,’ Milo said. ‘Please.’

‘I mean.’ Kara was massaging Alex’s shoulders now. ‘What happened?’

‘I had a plan.’ Alex could feel himself growing hard and soft in all the right places as she pressed into his body and kneaded his muscles. ‘You and me, we’re supposed to go away.’

‘But why, baby?’ Alex was surprised how well she was taking his resurrection. She’d skipped right past his whole
not being dead
thing, and moved on to the details of his plan. ‘Why do all this?’

‘I’m really hurt,’ Milo said. ‘Anyone?’

‘Not in front of this shit,’ Alex said. ‘I’ll tell you the details later.’

He was too busy trying to decide what they should actually
do
with Milo. He could blow the whole thing. The stupid kid knew Alex wasn’t dead, and he wouldn’t be in a mood amenable to staying silent.

Fergus. He’d call in Fergus. Offer him more money to deal with Milo. One last job before Alex and Kara could fly off into the sunset. And yeah, okay, so she was cheating on him a bit. But she’d thought he was dead. He couldn’t really—

Kara grabbed the club before Alex could tighten his grip again, and she thrust it forward, driving the handle into Alex’s abdomen. He hit the wall and slid down a little, his knees buckling as he fought for air.

Kara swung the club in the air above her head, and hit Alex hard to the temple. His world flashed white and yellow, and he fell onto his side.

‘I can’t be done for killing you,’ he heard Kara say, from far away. ‘If you’re already dead.’

SIXTY-TWO

FERGUS

11:00

The first name on the list is ‘Nazi Steve’.

There’s an address but no surname. Great. I hope he’s not a real Nazi. The house is on Brisbane Lane. I’m not familiar with the area, but I can guess where it is. There was a brand new housing estate built to accommodate the athletes for the Commonwealth Games. After the show was all finished, the place was turned into a mix of social and private housing, and the streets were all named after cities that had hosted the Games previously.

I pull up at the end of Brisbane Lane, but it’s paved
 
– there’s nowhere to park. I leave my car on Sunnybank Street, which I remember from the old days, before they demolished a whole community.

I walk along the path. All of the houses here look the same. Reddish brown bricks and black wooden cladding. Not bad. I could see myself living somewhere like this. I ring the buzzer at the right house, and hear a woman shouting on the other side. A few seconds later I’m greeted by a stressed-out looking bird with fizzy red hair and a fresh stain on her T-shirt. I can hear kids running around and screaming behind her.

She looks both happy to have adult contact and annoyed that I’ve intruded.

‘Aye?’ she says, no messing about.

‘I’m looking for Na-uh-Steve.’

‘Oh, you an’ aw?’ She looks me up and down. ‘You’re no’ polis. Money, is it?’ It’s a pointless question, because she doesn’t give me time to answer. ‘Well, he hasnae got any, but yer welcome to try an’ find him.’

‘He’s not here?’

‘No shit, Sherlock. No. I papped him oot.’

‘Do you know where he’ll be?’

‘Prably with Cal or Baz.’

She shuts the door in my face.

Right-o.

Well, I know Nazi Steve isn’t with Cal. He might be at Cal’s place, but that’s not on the list. The next name is Baz Monroe. He lives to the south, across the river in Cessnock. I’m more familiar with that address. It’s on Govan Road, near The Cess Pit, a pub I’ve been in a few times.

I ring the buzzer to the tenement’s main door, and it buzzes open without Baz using the intercom to see who I am. Great. This guy doesn’t seem to give a shit about security. Makes it all the easier for me.

I climb the stone steps to the top floor. A fat guy is waiting for me. He’s got black hair in an afro, and hairy legs stick out beneath cargo shorts. He looks like a hobbit. Smells like one, too, with the skunk coming off him.

‘Aw shite,’ he says. ‘Thought you was my dealer, man.’

I’ve been trying to think how best to handle this on the drive over. I’ve decided to go with being up front.

I pull out my gun. I don’t aim it at him, I just want him to see it. To know it’s a possibility. But I can feel my hand shake. I rest the gun against the side of my leg to mask the movement.

What, I can’t even
threaten
to kill someone now?

‘Joe sent me,’ I say.

He doesn’t look me in the eyes. He’s too busy staring at the gun. Shite, this is easy. Maybe I can be a private detective for my new job.

I wave the gun toward him, and he steps back into the flat. I follow. The smell of weed is even stronger in the hallway, and there’s a cloud hanging at head-height. I can feel it getting to me a little. Easing the tension that’s been building in my gut. I almost smile.

Almost.

‘You Baz?’

He nods. ‘Uh, yeah.’

‘Is Nazi Steve with you?’

He waves his hand toward a door to the right. I nod for him to go on through it, and we walk into the living room. Futons are arranged in a loose semi-circle around a huge TV. Ashtrays are scattered around the floor, though people’s aim seems to be off.

A skinny guy lazes on the futon nearest to me. He has black hair and a thick Che Guevara beard. Baz nudges his foot, and he looks up at me through sleepy eyelids.

‘Nazi Steve?’ I say.

He nods.

I wave the gun so he can see it. ‘Joe sent me.’

‘Oh right?’ he says. ‘Cool.’

‘
Not
cool, you fucking idiot,’ Baz says. ‘He’s got a gun.’

Nazi Steve looks again at the object in my hand. I can see the effort it takes him to focus. ‘Aw shite, I thought that was, ’hingmy, a lighter.’

They’re scared to see me, and dropping Joe’s name clearly has an effect. One thing they’re not, though, is
surprised.

They’ve been expecting a visitor.