Kill Clock (5 page)

"Why were they wearing masks?"

"No more questions, Kirk."

"Hilda's got a woolly face too. Is she wearing a mask?"

"Enough, Kirk!"

"I don't want Mummy to go," Kirk said.

"Neither do I." Pearce started the engine. "But what can we do about it?"

"I don't like you."

"I don't like you, too!"

Pearce looked in the rear-view mirror. Devon was grinning. Kirk wasn't, the little bastard.

"Give me Mummy's shoe."

"Say please."

"Please."

Pearce gave it to him.

He started to wail.

Shit. The 'bad dog' approach wasn't going to work now. "It's OK. Kirk? What's wrong?"

He wailed louder.

"Hey, it's OK, son."

Louder still. Face screwed up, eyes wet, blowing bubbles out of his nose.

Only one thing for it.

Pearce switched on the radio and turned up the volume till he drowned out the wee bugger. Which was hard, because Kirk was screaming now, and Devon had joined in, grinning like a demented baby clown. Pearce hummed along to the music. Tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He was getting the hang of driving again. It all clicked back into place.

But he could use a bit of quiet to help him concentrate. He had things to work out. Like, where was he going? He'd swung the car around, and was heading back home. If he was stopped, it wouldn't look too good, driving someone else's car with someone else's kids in the back and no idea where either of their parents were. Maybe he should go to the nearest police station and let the professionals deal with it.

Devon was singing now. A tuneless screech. Great lyrics, though.
"Shut up, Kirk. Shut up, shut up, shut up your cakehole."

"You tell him, Devon."

There was a cop shop in Portobello. He could drive there, explain what had happened, dump the kids and go home. Tempting. If only the threat to Julie wasn't real.

Jesus, he could have sworn it was all a con. Right up until the moment that joker in the balaclava pulled the trigger.

He should have known. Second time she'd made him look like a tit. Only this time it was much more serious. She was going to die if he didn't find twenty grand by midnight. What was he going to do?

First thing: get the kids somewhere safe. Easier said than done. He didn't know anyone who'd be happy to look after a couple of pre-school kids. Didn't know that many people at all. But he had to dump them somewhere before he could go look for their mother. They weren't safe with all these bullets flying around. Apart from which, it had to be getting close to their bedtime, even if they didn't seem remotely tired.

Seeing Julie again had triggered all sorts of memories. One of the better ones was Ailsa, an old friend of his sister's. She'd helped him out back then, got him hooked up with a gun runner when he'd needed a weapon. He hadn't seen her in six years, but he couldn't think of anywhere else to go.

He dug out his phone, scrolled through the contacts. There was a florist on there he'd only ever used once seven or eight years ago. Christ, he'd even kept his mum's number. He should delete it. Maybe one day he would. Maybe one day he'd get rid of Ailsa's too. But for now he was glad he'd kept it.

She wouldn't be pleased to hear from him, though. Not under these circumstances, anyway.

Come to think of it …

He stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He'd be better off paying her a visit. You couldn't beat the personal touch.

"Where are we?"

Pearce turned off the radio. "Rossie Place, Kirk."

"Where's that?"

"Near Easter Road."

He'd finally found a space big enough to park. There were smaller spaces nearby, but he hadn't fancied squeezing into those. Parking had never been his strong point.

"Where's that?"

"You don't need to know."

"Why not?"

"Trust me. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Why wouldn't you lie to me?"

"No more questions."

"Are you mad at me?"

He breathed in through his nose. "Of course not."

"Why not?"

"Can you put the music back on, Pearce?"

"We're going to see a nice lady, Devon." Pearce hadn't been able to find anything he wanted to listen to on the radio and after a few near-accidents while he twiddled the dial, he'd given up. Left it on some Scottish fiddle music station.

Turned out Kirk and Devon liked it. Kirk even gave Devon his mum's shoe so he could clap along. Kept them entertained, anyway, and it was better than listening to them screaming.

"Are we going to see Mummy?" Devon held out Julie's shoe.

"No, this nice lady's called Ailsa."

Kirk said, "Is she your girlfriend?"

Why did everyone want to pair him up? "I don't have a girlfriend."

"Are you a poof?"

Pearce unclipped his seatbelt.

"Poofy," Devon said. "Poofy Pearce."

"I don't want to see a lady."

"I want to stay with Kirk."

"Don't like ladies."

"Ladies!"

Pearce closed his eyes. He couldn't just leave them in the car while he went to see Ailsa. Could he? He could hardly drag them with him either, kicking and wailing and throwing up and repeating every-bloody-thing.

"I'll just pop out for a moment, then." He opened the door and Hilda's tail started to wag. "Will you two be good till I get back?"

"Don't leave me!" Kirk said. "No!"

"You sure you don't want to stay in the car? After all, you don't like ladies. And I'm a poof."

"I like you, Pearce." Devon smiled. "You're funny."

"Don't go," Kirk said. "It's dark outside."

"You're afraid of the dark?" Pearce raised his eyebrows. "A big boy like you? That's a bit gay, don't you think?"

Kirk kicked his foot up and down."Yes."

"That's OK. Nothing wrong with being gay."

"Can I see your girlfriend?"

"She's not ... OK."

"You're poofy."

"Devon," Pearce said. "Do you know what that means?"

She beamed at him and nodded. "Smelly!"

"No, it doesn't, bumhole!"

"Kirk, behave yourself or you're staying. In the dark. OK?"

Kirk nodded.

"Good. We all going, then?"

"Hilda, too?"

"Yeah, Hilda too, son." One big happy family.

Ailsa Lillie, it said on the nameplate. Good. She still lived here.

Kirk tugged at Pearce's T-shirt. "I see one."

"See one what?"

He pointed. "A ghost."

"It's just a shadow." Pearce bent down, looked him in the eye. "If there were ghosts around here, Hilda would bark at them."

Kirk eyed Hilda, then looked back at Pearce. "How can Hilda see them?"

"Don't be daft. Hilda doesn't see them." Pearce shook his head. "He
smells
them."

"Oh." Kirk's brow wrinkled. "What do ghosts smell like?"

"A bit like …" God, what the hell would ghosts smell like? Something Hilda would bark at. Well, there was one night the wee fella'd gone mental following a scent trail. Yipped his head off till he sniffed out the scared, balled-up, spiny bugger. "You'd never guess. But they smell like hedgehogs."

"Hedgehogs are all prickly and Nathan says you have to wear shoes when you stamp on them."

"You keep bad company, Kirk. How old's Nathan?"

"He's big. Six and a half."

And already doling out tips on hedgehog stomping.

"I'm a ghost!"

Kirk turned to his sister. "Shut your gob." Faced Pearce again. "Is Devon a ghost?"

"Does she smell like a hedgehog?"

"Smell like an edge dog!"

Kirk took a step towards his sister. She tilted her chin up and he sniffed her neck. "She smells spewy, Pearce. Do hedgehogs smell spewy?"

"OK, quiet now. There are no ghosts. Hilda's not barking." Pearce gave Hilda a pat and stood up, his right knee clicking. "Let's see if my friend's in."

"Is she pretty like Mummy?"

"Almost as pretty." He pressed the buzzer.

"Hello?" Ailsa's voice.

And with it, more memories.

Sorting out her violent boyfriend. Cooking breakfast in her kitchen. Buying a gun from a fat bloke with a Mohican hair-cut. Getting shot with the same gun. Waking up in hospital. Telling her to go. To leave him alone, it would never work.

"It's Pearce," he said.

"Who?"

He moved closer to the speaker. "Pearce."

"Pearce? Jesus Christ." That trace of an Aberdeen accent.

The door buzzed.

He pushed it open, held it for the kids.

Kirk ducked inside.

Devon didn't move.

"What's wrong?"

"These are a bit heavy for me now."

He held out his hand and she unburdened herself of her fairy wand and her mum's shoe and they all trooped along to Ailsa's flat. Pearce was about to knock when the door opened.

"Pearce." Ailsa tucked her hair behind an ear. New messy style. Suited her. Long pale-blue jumper, purple leggings, bare feet. She smiled. Then she saw Kirk and Devon and her expression soured. "What's going on?"

"Well." He poked the fairy wand under his arm. "Remember I used to have a girlfriend? Julie? These two are hers." Then, to the kids: "Say hi to Ailsa."

"No." Kirk scowled.

"I can say bollocks!"

"Thanks, kids." Pearce dangled the shoe on the end of his finger. "They've lost their mother."

"And?" Ailsa said.

"I was hoping you could look after them till I find her."

Ailsa turned round and closed the door.

Pearce stared at it. He looked at the kids. They looked back at him. He stared at the door again. They stared at it, too. No amount of staring made any difference. It stayed closed.