Ian Rankin - Beggars Banquet

Paul was buying. Paul, for a change, had plenty of money.

‘Cheers, Paul.’

‘Aye, all the best, Paolo.’

‘You’re quiet, Leonard,’ Paul said.

‘Eh?’

‘Quiet.’

Leonard shrugged. He wasn’t usually quiet. But then it wasn’t a normal day. ‘Just thinking about Anthony.’

‘Six years,’ said Philip, exhaling.

‘Hellish,’ said Paul. ‘Here, Leonard, have a-’

‘No, I’ll take it neat.’

‘You always have a skoosh of Irn-Bru in your vodka.’

‘Not today.’

‘What’s wrong, Leonardo?’

‘Christ, nothing, I just don’t… look, okay, give me the Irn-Bru.’

‘Not if you don’t want it.’

‘I want it.’

‘You’ve changed your mind?’

‘Just give the bottle here.’

‘Touchy today, isn’t he, Thomasino?’

‘A bit, Paul, I’d have to agree with you there.’

‘Hell, all I said was…’

‘Okay, Leonard, no problemo, big man. You take your vodka any way you want your vodka. No big deal. Okay?’

‘It’s only vodka.’

‘A metaphysical statement indeed. So get it down you. Hiy, Philip, how’s your spesh?’

‘Nothing special.’

Paul laughed. ‘Says the same thing every time. Dependable, Philip, that’s you. Not like these two.’

‘What?’

‘Look at you,’ Paul told them. ‘Leonard usually going twenty to the dozen, Thomas like a deaf mute in a sensory deprivation tank. Roles reversed today, eh?’

‘What’s a sensory deprivation tank?’

‘Well,’ said Philip, ‘here’s to Anthony.’

‘Anthony.’

‘Cheers.’

‘All the best.’

‘So… a wee skoosh of Irn-Bru after all, eh, Leonard?’

‘I thought we weren’t going to-’

‘You are not wrong, I was out of turn. Sorry, Leonard.’

‘Leonard’s all right.’

‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘One for yourself, Matthew?’

The barman was still waiting to be paid. ‘Thanks, Paul, I’ll stick one aside for later.’ He walked back to his till with the cash.

‘Matthew’s all right,’ Paul said, tucking his wallet back into his pocket.

‘Not bad.’

‘Keeps himself to himself.’

‘Wise in a place like this,’ said Thomas, wiping foam from his top lip, ‘full of people like us. I’ll tell you something, Paul, if I wasn’t me, I wouldn’t drink in here.’

‘Where else is there?’

‘There’s the Last Drop or the World’s End.’

‘No chance.’

‘Well, it’s a hell-hole all the same.’

‘Ach, you get used to it. I’ve been drinking here thirty years, man and boy. Come on, Leonard, no slacking.’

‘I’m pacing myself.’

‘Philip’s finished his spesh already, by the way.’

‘Thirsty,’ Philip explained.

‘Whose shout?’

‘I mean,’ Paul went on, ‘this is a big night, a kind of wake. No night to be pacing yourself. Six years: we’re drinking for Anthony tonight.’

‘That judge…’

‘And the jury.’

‘Ach, it was the evidence though,’ said Philip. ‘If they’ve got the evidence, what can you do?’

‘You can’t scare off every jury.’

‘They knew everything.’

‘Who did?’ Leonard asked.

‘Those two cops. How did they know all that?’

‘Go on then.’

‘What do you say, Leonard?’

‘Huh?’

‘You’re the one with the brains. How did those two cops know?’

‘Guesswork? I don’t know.’

‘Maybe they got lucky,’ Philip suggested.

‘They can’t all be as thick as the ones we know,’ Thomas added.

‘Or as scared.’

‘Anthony’ll be all right,’ said Paul. ‘Whichever nick he goes to, he’ll end up running the place.’

‘Very true,’ said Philip. ‘All the same, six years. He’ll be out in… what? Three? Three years locked up, no fresh air…’

‘When did that ever bother Anthony?’

‘How do you mean, Leonard?’

‘Or any of us, come to that,’ Leonard went on. ‘I mean, at least the screws will make him go for a walk around the yard. That’s more fresh air than he ever got sitting in here.’

‘You’re a cheery bugger,’ said Thomas.

‘He’s probably got a cell bigger than this… and better decorated.’

‘Leonard, Leonard, where would we be without you, eh? Always joking.’

‘Am I?’

‘You know you are,’ Paul said, lighting a cigarette and passing the pack on. ‘We’re all gutted, it’s a natural reaction.’

‘What is?’

‘Eh? Good man, Matthew. Put them down there, and chalk up another for yourself.’ Paul reached into his pocket for the wallet.

‘Where did all that cash come from, by the way?’ Leonard asked.

‘Never you mind.’ Paul winked and handed Matthew another ten. Matthew went back to the till.

‘You know,’ Paul said quietly, ‘I sometimes wonder how much Matthew hears.’

‘You mean how much he listens?’

‘Yes.’

‘Matthew’s all right.’

‘Well, he knows everything we talk about in here.’

‘We never talk jobs.’

‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying he’d… you know.’

‘What’s going on?’ Thomas asked, appearing not to follow things at all.

‘Just a natural reaction,’ said Philip. He was watching Paul hand out the drinks. ‘We’re all… something like this, it guts you, doesn’t it?’

‘All right, Thomas,’ Paul said, ‘get this down you, leave all your troubles behind. Leonard, another wee vodka. There’s the Irn-Bru, your decision, okay? You’re a free agent. All right there, Thomasino? Cough it up. Good man, now get that down you. Philip, one pint of delicious foaming spesh. Enough to quench the fire, eh?’

‘It’s never enough.’

‘Cheers, Paul.’

‘No, but it’s only natural, isn’t it?’ Paul said, not touching his own Black Heart. ‘I mean, natural to wonder, to ask yourself how the cops knew. It’s a reaction, we’ll get over it. Having trouble with that bottle-top, Leonard?’

‘You always screw the fucking thing back on too tight.’

‘Give it here.’

‘No, I can-’

‘Here, I’ll-’

‘ I can do it! ’

‘Whoah there, Leonard. Brakes on, pal, no need for this. Look, there it is, the top’s off. Amazing how strong you can get when you’re angry. Right then, everybody, good health.’

‘Cheers.’

‘All the best.’

‘Aye.’

‘Hiy, Matthew,’ Thomas called, ‘can you no’ open a window? It’s like a furnace in here.’ He turned to Paul. ‘Windows, they paint over them, you can’t open the things. Never would have happened in the old days. Sloppy these days, decorators. I mean, hot’s fine in the winter, but this isn’t winter.’

‘Hellish hot,’ Leonard agreed, calm again. ‘It’s always too hot in here.’

‘You could heat pies without a microwave.’

‘One of those ceiling fans would be nice,’ Paul said. ‘There used to be one, didn’t there?’

‘Did there?’

‘This was before your time, Leonard, before you came here. Up there it was, a big white electric fan.’

‘White electric?’

‘I mean painted white, run on electric.’

‘Right.’

‘I don’t know how you can put Irn-Bru in that.’

‘You want me to drink it neat?’

‘Christ, don’t be so… look, just do what-’

‘I like Irn-Bru.’

‘Me too,’ said Philip.

‘Ach, everyone likes Irn-Bru… but with vodka?’

‘I used to drink it that way at school,’ Leonard said. ‘I’d steal some voddy from the drinks cabinet and mix it in an Irn-Bru bottle.’

‘Drinks cabinet, eh? Your family had class, Leonard.’

‘Didn’t stop him turning into a criminal at an early age.’