William McIlvanney - The Papers of Tony Veitch

Like watching a match on television when you already know the score, Harkness was still fascinated to find out how it would happen. He watched it as calmly as a replay, knowing now there was only one way to bet.

McMaster threaded the tables expertly and Laidlaw knocked over two. The beer from one went up like a small tidal wave. It was the table where the five noisy men had been sitting.

‘Jesus fuck!’ one of them said, and Harkness, in the doorway, smiled.

He saw the woman with the clear drink stand up, staring. McMaster went to the far wall and turned. He knew, Harkness knew, Laidlaw knew it was the end of something. McMaster lifted an empty pint-dish from a table and threw it at Laidlaw. Laidlaw ducked. The pint-mug bounced off the bar. And Laidlaw moved in. It wasn’t a fair fight.

McMaster had decided he was beaten. He knew he was trapped. He needed somebody to help him out of the impasse. Laidlaw obliged. He hit McMaster twice, with the left from fear, with the right from courtesy. McMaster went down. Harkness arrived in time to help to pull him up. All three became a conspiracy against the place they had found themselves in. McMaster needed assistance to get out of the pretence he had lived with for so long, and this room was full of it. Laidlaw and Harkness needed as little hassle as possible. The three of them thought they might make it.

But the five jolly drinkers didn’t agree. They blocked their way.

‘What’s this about?’ one of them said.

‘You spilled ma beer,’ another said to Laidlaw.

Laidlaw looked at him. Glancing at the look, Harkness realised that Laidlaw was still high on his own excitement. He felt as if he was going to have to get two heavies out of the bar.

‘We’re from the Salvation Army,’ Laidlaw said. ‘It’s part of a drive to make people drink less.’

The aggression of it made Harkness grit his teeth.

‘Two tae wan’s no’ fair,’ another said.

His face was on fire with drink but the eyes were calm. He was like a Guy Fawkes who hasn’t yet noticed he’s on fire.

‘You don’t understand,’ Laidlaw said.

‘Well, make me understand.’

‘I don’t have the time to give you a head-transplant.’

Harkness understood what Laidlaw was feeling. You didn’t have to understand specialisation. But you had to understand that it was there.

‘Listen,’ Laidlaw said. ‘I think the five of you should all go away and do something more sensible. Like putting the head on a wall. In unison. Okay?’

Laidlaw looked round the five of them. Harkness flipped out his card and showed them it. Among mutterings, they let them pass. Harkness was glad.

At the top of the stairs, they found the mother and her son and the man who had saved him. They were the centre of a fair crowd. The mother was threatening to kill Dave McMaster. Laidlaw tried to calm her. He found out the small man’s name and address. While he was talking, the woman with the clear drink had come out, still holding it. Her expression hadn’t changed throughout the whole sequence of events. She just stood, staring at Laidlaw. At last he looked towards her.

‘What’s that you’re drinking, love?’ he said. ‘Gin and catatonic?’

The puzzlement saw them out of the building. The wavy-haired man was nowhere. They took Laidlaw’s car. Harkness heard Laidlaw ask a strange question.

‘Were you in the lavvy?’

Harkness moved the rear mirror so that he could see Dave McMaster’s face.

‘Uh?’

‘Did you go into the lavatory when you were up to buy those cans of lager?’

Dave nodded. Harkness turned the mirror so that he could see Laidlaw’s face. Laidlaw was nodding. He seemed satisfied. Harkness was amazed. Laidlaw had a mania to know as much as he could. Even when he had achieved what he set out to achieve, he still wanted to know how. Bob Lilley had described him accurately in the Top Spot. He would die trying to get it right. He was still trying.

‘Tony Veitch didn’t know what Paddy Collins had done to Lynsey Farren, did he? You told her you had told Tony, didn’t you? That way, you could make her believe Tony had killed Paddy. Is that how it was?’

‘How what was?’

Laidlaw was looking at Dave, not without sympathy.

‘The jig’s up, son,’ he said. ‘You’re going to have to admit more than you did that night in East Kilbride. You’re not going out for a fancy meal now. Not for a long time. Like a lot of people who’ve done bad things, I think you wanted to get caught. Know why?’

Dave was staring carefully ahead.

‘That lounge-bar. I caught you just outside the lavvy door. There’s another exit from that lavvy into the rest of the building. Why didn’t you use it?’

In his mirror Harkness saw Dave’s eyes thinking about that.

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ Laidlaw said. ‘We can save you the trouble. We’ve got a bottle of vintage paraquat with your prints on it.’

Dave’s eyes softened for the first time into doubt.

Hanging about the main office, Bob Lilley was glad that he saw Harkness first. Harkness sent his eyes to the ceiling in admission of what they both knew would have to be acknowledged. Bob looked at his left lapel and took in enough breath to launch a zeppelin.

‘It’s what they say, is it?’ he said.

Harkness nodded.

‘Has he burst yet?’

‘Aye,’ Harkness said. ‘He’s burst. His fingerprints were on the bottle. That’s what did it. He’s writing his memoirs now.’

‘Jesus,’ Bob said. ‘Old Jack gets it right now and again, though. Doesn’t he? Sometimes I wish he didn’t.’

‘No,’ Harkness said. ‘I’m glad he does. Sometimes I don’t like him. But people like that deserve to get it right.’

Laidlaw came in with a paper cup of coffee, looking for sugar. He had no problem finding it, being popular for the moment. He stirred his coffee and looked at Bob.

‘Ernie Milligan’s not around, is he?’ Laidlaw said.

The room winced. Laidlaw smiled at Bob.

‘Naw,’ he said. ‘I’m only kidding. He did it according to his lights. Which are about two-kilowatt.’

Harkness was about to defend Milligan when Laidlaw looked at him. It was a hard look, as sore as your father finding you out in a lie at the age of seven. Harkness knew what was coming.

‘Brian. There’s something I better say. I’m disappointed in you. I like you but you’re a slow learner. So you gave Big Ernie the photo. Fair enough. But you should’ve said. That’s all. It was fair enough giving it to him, if that’s what you felt. But you should’ve said. I felt a bit betrayed. When Macey let that slip. He didn’t know what he was saying. But I did. Aw, Brian.’

‘I was going to tell you.’

‘Going to’s what they put on the headstone. Be quicker next time. Friends should share.’

‘Come on, Jack,’ Bob said. ‘Maybe friends should share. But did you share with Ernie?’

‘Friends? I don’t see Ernie Milligan as a friend. “A thing devised by the enemy.” That’s what he is.’

Laidlaw was testing his coffee, put in more sugar. He lit a cigarette.

‘Jack,’ Bob said. ‘You’ve done well. Don’t crow.’

‘I’m not crowing. Because I didn’t do well enough. Tony Veitch is dead. This case was a failure. But it could’ve been a bigger one. That’s all. I want to admit the failure but I don’t want to flagellate myself with it. You know?’

Bob was pushing back his shoulders and putting on his the-world’s-my-junior face.

‘I still say you should’ve told Big Er-’

‘Bob. Don’t say. You’ve had your say. I sat in the Top Spot and listened to you a long time. And apart from the Fenwick Fury here, you’re the closest thing to a friend I’ve got in this place. And I took it because I couldn’t prove otherwise. But now I can. I’ve just proved it. So don’t tell me again. That I should’ve told Big Ernie. Because I shouldn’t. You accused me of careerism. Bob. I’m still here because I think it’s where it really matters. But only if you do it right. This time I haven’t done that. I just came closer than some. That doesn’t mean much. But maybe it could exempt me from your advice for a wee while. Eh? As auld Eck used to say.’