Denise Mina - Exile

Kilty sat with her hands below the table and stared at Maureen's waist.

"That's all I know," said Maureen.

Kilty nodded to her waist and Maureen saw that she was staring at the packet of cigarettes. She had been teasing when she said she'd teach Kilty how to smoke but Kilty was serious. Maureen gave her a fag and a light. Kilty sucked in the smoke, puffing like an overwound automaton, watching the tip of her fag and going very slightly cross-eyed. Maureen was going to tell her to inhale just a little at first, not draw her cheeks in so much and keep her eye off the tip, but she still felt slighted at the suggestion that she was going to trap Kilty into a lifelong friendship. "That's fine, actually," she said. "You're doing that fine."

"Really?"

"Aye."

"It doesn't feel the same as what everyone else does."

"Maybe you're just thinking about it too much."

Kilty looked bewildered. "Hm, maybe. You won't find Mr. Headie in the phone book. He doesn't have a new office. He's in Wandsworth prison."

"What?"

"Yeah, few months ago the whole of Coldharbour Lane was an open drugs market. But now look." She pointed across the street at a tall gray pole with a high steel box aimed down the Lane. "They had a big cleanup and put CCTV all up and down it."

"So now the nervous junkies have to go up dark alleys with their tenners and twenties?"

"Yeah," said Kilty. "Mr. Headie was one of the first casualties in a big cleanup operation. He was arrested with half a kilo of uncut cocaine in his briefcase."

"Mr. Headie was into that, was he?"

"He was skimming money, yeah, legally and illegally. He represented everyone and gave some of them special services. Anyway, he got done." She looked at her watch and seemed concerned. "Is that all?" she said quickly.

"Do you know anything about a trade in benefit books?"

Kilty waved her fag about, getting the feel of it. "I know there is one. They pay a small portion of the value to the person up front. They buy them from alkies and junkies. It's about as low a scam as you can get."

"The woman's child-benefit book is missing. Could anyone cash the book?"

"Not unless she'd signed the back," said Kilty. "When they buy the book they get the person to sign the agent clause on each check. If she'd signed and dated them all in advance they could cash them."

"How much would it be for four kids per week?"

Kilty thought about it. "About fifty-odd quid. I thought you said she had two kids?"

Maureen looked at Kilty and Kilty stared back.

"I didn't say it was her book. Did I?" The question wasn't rhetorical.

"No." Kilty smiled. "You haven't said that yet. But I think you're about to."

Maureen avoided insulting her with the obvious. "If the book was made out to a Glasgow address could she cash it down here?" she asked.

"She'd have to give notice that she was moving," said Kilty. "She'd have to let the post office know in advance where she was moving to and when the first check would be cashed. Like I said, if someone else is cashing the thing they'd need her consent."

If Ann had sold it in London she must have known in advance she was going to run here.

Outside the window the street was busy and shoppers spilled into the road from the market.

"Well, Kilty, that's really all I wanted to know," said Maureen, standing up. "Thanks very much for coming to meet me, despite your misgivings. You've been really helpful." She slid two cigarettes across the table to her. "Keep them to play with."

Kilty reached out and took them. "You really haven't kept your side of the bargain," she said. "You haven't told me anything that wasn't a total lie-" But her reproach was interrupted by the tune from Maureen's pager.

… About…

… Ann. I Am

.. .211 631 Argyle

Street. Brixton

Hill come now.

Maureen sat down again and stared at the message, reading it through and through, trying to understand how anyone could have heard about her within one day of her arrival and how they could have gotten her pager number. The only people who had it were Jimmy, Leslie, Liam and Moe. And the barman from the Coach and Horses. It was the lying barman.

"You haven't told me about the woman." Kilty saw her looking puzzled. "Don't you understand the message?"

"Yeah," said Maureen. "I just don't know how they got my number."

Kilty twisted around and read the address over her shoulder. "Jesus," she said. "You're not going up there on your own, are ye?"

"Why?"

"I wouldn't go up there," said Kilty. "Don't go."

Maureen tutted. "Look, I was up at Dumbarton Court the other day. There's a gang of teenagers hanging around but it's not that bad."

"Dumbarton Court's fine. The Argyle, that's a different country. When they broke up Coldharbour the trade moved up the road. Don't go up there."

It sounded like an order but Maureen couldn't imagine why Kilty thought she'd do what she said. " 'S no big deal – I know the guy who sent the message."

"D'you know him well?"

Maureen wanted so much to be right that she almost lied. "No," she said, "I don't know him at all but I'm going anyway. You can come with me if you're that worried."

Kilty put her Woolies bag on the floor and took out the cigarettes, sitting them on the table. "Give me the address," she said. "I'll wait here for you and if you're not back in an hour I'll call the police."

Maureen showed it to her. Kilty shut her eyes and said it over and over to herself.

"I thought you had to get back to your work?" said Maureen.

Kilty lifted one of the cigarettes, sitting it between her fingers. "I don't work Saturdays." She looked at her prop cigarette and smiled up at Maureen.

"So, all that clock watching," said Maureen. "You've just lied to me continuously?"

"You tell me the truth and I'll tell you the truth." Kilty spread her hand over her tiny grinning face, pretending to puff on her unlit fag like a movie star. "See ye in an hour," she said, exhaling imaginary smoke through her teeth.

Williams had gone off for a piss and left the tape recorder running. They were in a small interview room. The pale gray walls were tinged with yellow smoke. The smell of a hundred frightened punters clung to the wall and Bunyan felt that she could smell their sweat, the desperate lies and nervous resignations. Jimmy Harris was smoking and looking at his hands. He had sat silently all the way to Carlisle and had gone meekly into the holding cell. When they went to get him in the morning all he asked about were his kids. Harris wasn't working to a game plan – that much was clear already. He was making it up as he went along, stumbling over his story, backing up when he got caught out and telling them the truth when the tears came. The lies weren't meant to get him off – he didn't give a shit what happened to him – but he cared about his kids.

He looked up at her now and crumbled his chin into a polite semblance of a smile.

"You all right?" asked Bunyan, able to be kind without contradicting Williams now that they were alone.

Harris sniffed and nodded.

"The kids'll be all right, you know."

Harris nodded again, nervously, and took another draw.

"You're lucky with your family," she said. "I don't know if I could find a family member ready to sit with my kid over a Friday night."

Harris exhaled. "You got kids?"

"Yeah. Little girl. She's three. Called Angie."

Harris softened. "Nice name. My wife"-he gestured to the past and took another drag-"she wanted a wee girl. Kept trying because she wanted a girl."

"I'd like a boy now."

"Boys are hard work. They're not obedient like girls."