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Authors: Paul Johnston

Water of Death (51 page)

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“On the other hand,” she said, ignoring my sarcasm, “you have enabled the Council to maintain a reasonable level of tourist income despite last week's fiasco.”

“No doubt you'll make it all up this Saturday.” I looked at her. “I don't care about the tourist income, Sophia. Even though I hate Edlott and its culture of greed almost as much as I hate auxiliaries who put the boot into citizens for no reason. I suppose people do need something to dream about. What I care about is that citizens' lives aren't made any more difficult than they have to be. That means keeping the user-friendly policies that the current Council's instituted.” I held my eyes on her as she accelerated past the Culture Directorate and its banners advertising the rescheduled inaugural ceremony. “Maybe if the welfare services had been better in the past, Allie and Agnes Kennedy wouldn't have ended up the way they did.”

Sophia nodded. “I know what you're saying, Quint. I may not have been the greatest supporter of recent Council measures but I accept that citizens deserve more freedom than they had in the past.” She looked at me and gave a brief smile. “Don't worry. We won't be going back to the bad old days.” She frowned. “Although I still believe that liberalisation has been the cause of too many problems.”

Trust Sophia not to give in without a fight. But I reckoned she was being straight with me so I returned her smile – and felt a stab of guilt that I ever suspected her of being involved in the killings.

As we went through Tollcross, Sophia turned to me again. “You may be interested to know that Nasmyth 05 has been demoted. He's in the rehabilitation centre at Duddingston.”

I'd got over my urge to crucify the fat auxiliary for passing my father's address to Allie Kennedy. Sophia's words made me think of another resident of the rehab facility. “Don't you think it's time the Council used Billy Geddes's talents officially again? He could make the city a lot of money. As long as he's properly supervised, of course.”

“I'll put it to the Council. We need all the help we can get.”

I laughed. “Well said.” To my surprise, Sophia laughed as well.

We stopped outside my place.

“Go on then,” Sophia said haltingly. “She's waiting for you, isn't she?”

I watched her face, which was half turned away from me. Her swollen lips gave her an uncharacteristically fragile look though her eyes were as unwavering as ever. “Are you okay about this, Sophia?” I asked in a low voice.

She sat motionless for a few seconds. Then she looked at me and smiled more warmly. “I'll survive, Quint. I know she has a prior claim.” She faced the front again. “To be honest with you, the original Council's celibacy rules suit me better.”

I didn't think she was being honest with me but I wasn't going to argue. I leaned towards her and kissed her on the cheek. “See you at the next murder.”

“An appropriately unromantic way to say farewell,” she said drily. “Now go. Before I change my mind and have Katharine Kirkwood expelled.”

I didn't hang around to see if she was joking.

I raced up the stairs and put my key in the lock. “I'm home,” I called, only realising after the words had escaped how odd they sounded. I hadn't used them since Caro died ten years ago.

No reply.

“Katharine?” I said, walking into the living room. “Katharine?” My stomach suddenly felt hollow. I ran to the bedroom. No sign of her there either. “Katharine?” I went to the sofa and sat down, my legs weak. Surely not. Surely she hadn't left the city again? There had been no sign that she was unhappy. Christ, she was the one who'd poleaxed me by suggesting we get back together.

I stood up and went over to the door. The carpet was unattached there and a couple of days earlier we'd found the note she'd left me when she went to the Kennedy flat – it was caught on the floorboards underneath. I stuck my fingers in and filled the ends of them with splinters. Nothing.

“Shit!” I shouted. I started sucking my nails. Then I remembered her backpack. If that was here, she would definitely be back. I ran to the bedroom again. It wasn't there.

“Shit!” This time my shout was so loud that my neighbour to the rear started pounding on the thin wall.

I stood in the middle of the room shaking my head. Then I realised there was only one thing to do. I went over to my cassette player and put on John Lee Hooker. The old genius was in the middle of “One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer”. That was a hell of a good idea. I hadn't seen bourbon since I was eighteen but I had some barracks heavy that Davie'd given me, and a bottle of decent malt – no words beginning with “u” on its label. So I cranked up the decibels to drown out the neighbour's complaints and drank. It didn't make me feel much better.

The hand on my shoulder made me jump though. By the time I looked round Katharine had moved over to the cassette player and cut the volume.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking at the booze.

“Where have you been?” I yelled, taking in the backpack on her shoulder.

“Shopping. There was a delivery of vegetables at the store,” she said, screwing up her eyes. “What's the matter?”

“Jesus, Katharine. I thought you'd buggered off, that's the matter.” I emptied my glass of whisky and washed it down with beer.

Katharine came over to me and took the bottle gently from my hand. “Quint,” she said, a smile breaking across her tanned face. “That's very sweet.” She kissed me on the lips then put her arms round me. “I didn't know you cared.”

“Didn't you?” I said, nestling against her and breathing in the smell of newly washed hair. “Neither did I.”

BOOK: Water of Death
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