How To Kill Friends And Implicate People (18 page)

SECOND INTERMISSION

Sexy Time Mix Tape 1999

Side One

Lovefool
 
–
 
The Cardigans
 
–
 
3:18

That Don’t Impress Me Much
 
–
 
Shania Twain
 
–
 
3:56

Something for the Weekend
 
–
 
The Divine Comedy
 
–
 
4:20

Mambo No.5 (A Little Bit Of
. . .
)
 
–
 
Lou Bega
 
–
 
3:40

Scooby Snacks
 
–
 
Fun Lovin’ Criminals
 
–
 
3:03

My Favourite Mistake
 
–
 
Sheryl Crow
 
–
 
4:08

She’s the One
 
–
 
Robbie Williams
 
–
 
4:18

Burning Down the House
 
–
 
Tom Jones, The Cardigans
 
–
 
3:39

Side Two

Torn
 
–
 
Natalie Imbruglia
 
–
 
4:05

Pick a Part That’s New
 
–
 
Stereophonics
 
–
 
3:34

Right Here, Right Now
 
–
 
Fatboy Slim
 
–
 
6:28

Fly Away
 
–
 
Lenny Kravitz
 
–
 
3:41

Sonnet
 
–
 
The Verve
 
–
 
4:21

Mulder and Scully
 
–
 
Catatonia
 
–
 
4:11

Mama Told Me Not to Come
 
–
 
Tom Jones, Stereophonics
 
–
 
3:01

PART FOUR

June 8th

‘
Clearly, you’re the brains of the operation.’

—Hanya

FIFTY-FOUR

SAM

09:30

The morning run was quiet. Aside from our scheduled deliveries, there wasn’t much in the way of fresh work. It was good to get that kind of morning occasionally, because it gave me time to stop and talk to the receptionists at each client.

I liked building up relationships with them. Getting to see who they were. It gave me an advantage over almost everyone else who walked through the lobby, because none of them took the time to be friendly.

I was delivering a bunch of legal documents to Nicolay & Turner when Tina on the desk mentioned an explosion. She said it was all over the news. I headed back out to my bike to ride to the office, but then I thought again about what she’d said.

I was curious.

Cars don’t just blow up in Glasgow.

When did that become a thing?

I searched for the news on my phone and read enough for my gut to start tingling. The report didn’t mention any names, but it did give away the location. Henderland Road, Westerton.

That’s where Alex and Kara Pennan live.

And I still didn’t believe in coincidences.

The GPS tracker app on my phone now only showed one dot at their house. The red one. Alex’s blue dot had vanished.

I sent Hanya a text:
Explosion, Pennan?

She replied straight away with,
Husband.

Holy crap.

A woman hires me to prove her husband is cheating.

The husband blows up.

Yeah, right.

The whole thing smelled of fish. Very bad, rotten fish. Did Kara have the means to get Alex killed? Had my investigation just been a backup, in case she couldn’t make it work?

And, first things first, what would be the social etiquette on me invoicing her for the hours Phil and I had logged on the case? How long should we leave it?

I cycled back to the office in a half daze. I was switched on enough to be safe on the road, but I couldn’t swear that my mind was entirely there. When I pulled up outside I saw Mike Gibson sat in his car.

There was a baseball bat displayed prominently on the passenger seat beside him. It was stood on end, with a seat belt strapped across, holding it in place. Bats were a large part of the Gibson legend. Cricket, baseball, vampire, didn’t matter. The exact details of the stories would change, but the damage he did stayed the same.

He got up out of the car and walked toward me. His legs rotated outwards as he walked, probably a habit picked up from trying to stop his thighs rubbing together.

‘How you getting on with looking for Cal, hen?’

Neither of the first two answers that popped into my head were good choices.

Well, the good news is, the other person I was investigating just blew up in his car, so now I’m all yours.

Or:

Well, actually, there’s a chance your son killed a woman I’ve been investigating, and he’s done a runner after trying to blackmail some really bad people.

Instead I went with a handshake and said, ‘Nothing solid yet, but I’ve got a couple of leads I’m following up this morning.’

‘Ah, that right, aye?’ He looked me up and down for a long time. I was used to it. ‘Okay. I’ll stop back a bit later, then. Just taking my pal out fer a drive.’

My pal.

How lonely do you have to be, that a piece of wood becomes your best friend?

He headed back to his car and I wheeled my bike into the office. A couple of the other messengers were in early, playing computer games and downing cans of energy drinks. I walked through to the back where Phil was checking messages and orders that were coming in via the app.

‘How’s it looking?’

‘Lunchtime’s going to be busy.’ He looked up from the screen for a second. ‘Uncle Fran called. He couldn’t find your mobile number, so he called here.’

I took my seat at the desk and dialled Fran’s office.

‘Salut, Crowther & Co, Alexi speaking. How may I be of service?’

‘Hola, Lex.’

‘Sam.
В
ітаю
. Hello. Hang on, I’ll see if the gaffer’s finished on the crapper.
’

After the line beeped a few times, Fran picked up and greeted me. ‘Right, Sam, straight to it. Callum Gibson doesn’t have any legal representation that I could find. Davey Lockhart confirmed for me that he doesn’t do it, because Cal and his old da don’t get on anymore, but he wasn’t going to tell me any more than that.’

‘Thanks for checking, Uncle Fran.’

‘On the other hand, I did manage to get a name for you. Because I’m that good, aye.’ He chuckled. ‘Cal’s money man is Gary Fraser.’

Gary Fraser, I knew him.

‘That’s fantastic, thank you.’

Gary used a bar as his office. Lebowskis on Argyle Street. If I was going to find Cal, his money man would be a great place to start. Lebowskis wouldn’t be open until eleven, so that gave me time for breakfast with Phil.

My phone buzzed.

FergusSingsTheBlues
 
–
 
Can we do that again tonight?

FIFTY-FIVE

ALEX

08:30

Alex caught the bus a couple of miles away from the house. After hearing the explosion, he had walked on farther, putting more distance between him and the inevitable cops. He hadn’t caught a bus since they moved to Glasgow. Almost didn’t remember how it worked. Were they the same up here?

It pulled to a stop in front of him, and the door opened. He stepped on and stared at the driver in his plastic enclosure. Then he noticed the metal coin machine.

He dropped money into the slot. ‘Uh, a pound please.’

The driver looked from the machine to Alex. ‘Where you wanting, pal?’

‘Into town.’

‘Glesga?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Two pound, pal.’

Alex dug the extra coin out of his pocket and dropped it into the slot. The driver pressed a couple of buttons, and a ticket printed out. Alex tore it loose with some effort, then started to shuffle down the aisle of the busy bus as it pulled away into traffic.

It was peak travelling time. Commuters were packed in tight, already sweating in the morning heat. All of the seats were taken and most of the standing spots were claimed, too. Alex managed to find a place in the section that was reserved for pushchairs and the disabled, and clung onto a metal rail that hung from the ceiling.

Alex knew rationally that nobody was paying him any attention. Half the passengers were deep into
Girl Meets Boy on a Crime Spree.
That didn’t stop the creeping feeling that he was being stared at. Fergus had given him advice on how to blend in for his maiden voyage on public transport.

‘Wear a hat.’

‘But that’ll mean everyone will look at me,’ Alex had protested.

‘No. It means everyone will look at your hat. Then they’ll look away, not wanting to seem like they’re staring. Later on, they won’t even remember you. If they do, it’ll only be the hat. They won’t be able to describe you.’

So Alex was wearing a fedora.

And feeling like a prick.

But on the plus side, he was a prick who was on his way to a brand new flat, in which he had five million in cash.

So he could put up with feeling like an idiot for a wee while.

He got off the bus in Glasgow city centre. It felt odd. Nobody around him was acting like the world had changed. Nobody seemed to care that he was dead, or about all the money he had.

It was just rude, frankly.

The apartment was on the third floor of a renovated building on Albion Street. It overlooked Merchant Square, and was the only part of the city Alex could really stand. It would have made a great bachelor pad. In fact, for the next week or so, it was going to be just that. He had Netflix set up. He’d got a few books to read, and there was some exercise equipment in there. He could hide away for a week and think of it as a holiday. A break from everything, even Kara.

He would need to stay locked up in there until the heat died down. There was a chance his face might be on local news, or on the front of the newspapers. If he ventured out of the flat, or ordered a takeaway to be delivered, he would create chances to be seen by people, and any of them might recognise him. The kitchen was stocked with meat, bread, pasta, and all kinds of sauces and spices he didn’t understand. The real question had been, how much booze would he need?

He’d gone with
lots.

The apartment had two levels, with the main living area and kitchen sitting below a small mezzanine that held the bed. There were large windows across the front wall, which threw the sun onto both levels.

The redevelopment had replaced the entire inside of the old structure, with the outer walls and the roof being the only thing left. Alex had paid for his in cash. It was an off-the-books arrangement that had suited both him and the seller, Mike Gibson.

Mike had no love for Joe Pepper. He’d refused to take his business to MHW because of Joe’s links to the company, so Alex had known this deal would stay secret. He got to the main entrance, a secured glass door off Albion Street, and made to get his keys out of the bag.

Shit.

The bag.

In all the rush of oversleeping and getting out the house, he’d left the bag by the door. It held his keys. More than that, his laptop. Loaded with data of criminal activity, and Joe’s big plan.

He couldn’t just leave it there and hope for the best. The house was going to be crawling with cops. All it would take is one of them to open the bag, to get even a wee bit curious, and this whole thing was over.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

He needed to go back to the house.

FIFTY-SIX

FERGUS

08:56

Tracking Alex down is simple.

He’s wearing the hat I told him to. That makes him pretty easy to follow. He doesn’t know, of course. It would blow the whole point of
secretly tailing him
if I told Alex I was going to keep tabs on him this morning.

I just don’t trust him to get it right.

Alex’s weird job was supposed to be my big goodbye. The stylish full stop to my career. But, as I watch Alex get off the bus looking like an idiot, I realise this is just one more thing I need to keep from going off the rails. Another in my career-ending line of fuck-ups.

I wasn’t thinking straight when I said yes. He had me rattled, bringing my family into it at the same time as challenging my ego, giving me something interesting to take on.

But Alex is a big liability. He thinks he’s getting away with something huge, but he’s going to want to brag. He’ll do stupid things, take risks. Act the big criminal billybaws. I tested him yesterday, seeing how tight-lipped he would be, and he basically spilled everything. He told me about his secret apartment, and the bags of cash.

I’m retired now.

I don’t want to kill anymore.

No, wait, that sounds wrong.

I never sat around
wanting
to kill. What I mean is, this is the first time I’m not wondering when my next job will come in. I’m no longer reserving a place in my thoughts for all the ways to end someone’s life.

I think I’ve decided, deep down, that killing people just isn’t really a fun job.

High five?

Problem is, Joe’s got some big deal going through, and the last thing I need is to give him a reason to turn on me. I’ve got plenty of money tied up in investments and saving schemes, but it’s going to take a while to divest them. Until then, I’m vulnerable, and so is my family.

If Joe, or the people behind him, got any wind of this little job, I’d be in shite so deep that I’d be washing the smell out of my nose hairs for a month. I want to make sure Alex gets to the flat, and then I’m going to impress upon him, in the nicest and most semi-threatening way I can manage, that he is going to play this one absolutely by the rules.

My
rules.

Stay in that flat.

Don’t call anyone.

Don’t email anyone.

No takeaways.

For the next two weeks, he’s going to call me anytime he needs anything. Food? Fine, I’ll get it. Drugs? Sure, I can do that. Sex? Well, I’ll remind him he’s married, and that the internet is a magical thing.

I’ll be his delivery boy, keeping him safe, and my own ass covered. And he can pay me for the service, from his small amount of savings. Not much, I won’t be greedy. My rates as a guardian angel will be competitive.

A thousand a day?

Seems fair to me.

Alex has told me he’s getting the bus, and I checked to see there’s only one that goes near his place. I’m waiting by the bus stop when he gets off, and I follow him down through the town. He never even pauses to check if he’s being tailed.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that not everybody has lived the same life as me. Other people haven’t been trained to be suspicious. Still, you’d think that a guy who is about to steal from the mob, and is walking through town dressed like Indiana Fucking Jones, would know to check if someone was following him.

I almost get too complacent because of how easy he’s making it. A couple of times, I drift off into thinking about the date last night. The kiss. Sam.

Oh shit, you bloody schoolboy.

Man up and send her a message.

FergusSingsTheBlues
 
–
 
Can we do that again tonight?

Straight away her image starts to flash, telling me she’s responding.

TheSamIreland
 
–
 
Yes. Yes we can.

While I’m off in dreamland, I lose sight of Alex.

I step faster, pushing past people. This is a total no-no when tailing someone, because it’s nothing but noise and attention, but I’ve fucked up. Again. It’s becoming my leitmotif.

Yes, I know a clever word, don’t fall over in shock.

Just as I’m starting to worry that I’ve lost him, I spot the hat. He’s walking through Royal Exchange Square.

Thank fuck for that.

He walks straight to the Merchant City.

Of course.

That’s exactly the kind of guy he is.

Alex leads me straight to his front door, but then it looks like he’s forgot his keys. He goes reaching to his side like a bag should be there. Then he makes a big comedy show of patting down his pockets and turning around in a circle.

I get a sense of what he’s about to do, and duck out of sight just as he turns back this way.

The wee bam is going back to the house. You believe that? See, when I talked about him doing something to mess it all up, that’s
exactly
what I was talking about. I start to go after him, but my phone buzzes an incoming call.

What now?

I have a call from Joe Pepper.

‘I need to see you,’ he says. ‘Now.’