Denise Mina - Resolution

She was locking the flat when she heard a noise across the close. She turned and looked at Jim Maliano's door. He was watching her through the spy hole. She stomped across the close and banged on his door. He waited for a moment before opening it, pretending he'd been elsewhere in the house. "Oh, hi, Maureen."

"Stop fucking watching me," she said, pointing at him. "You fucking weirdo freak."

Jim mugged at her, his face a guilty giveaway. "I don't know-"

"Are you leaving weird shit on my doorstep?"

Jim looked insulted. "Am I leaving what?" he said, having misheard and thought she'd accused him of defecating.

"Are you leaving fucking envelopes on my doorstep?"

"No," he said, looking bemused.

Maureen walked away down the stairs.

"You're a rotten neighbor," called Jim, leaning over the banister to half shout, half whisper at her. "The police were never in this close once before you moved here."

Maureen stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at him. "Stop fucking watching me, ya weird wee bastard."

Outside, the dreary sun was doing its thing and office workers in heavy shirts and skirts ambled along the road, reluctant to go back inside after their chores were done.

Leslie was pleased to see the carrier bag full of money and pushed it under the stall where she could keep an eye on it. She looked at Maureen with big insecure eyes and wanted to know all about the night before with Kilty and whether they had had a good time. Maureen didn't tell her about the trip to Benny Lynch Court. She said they had had a good laugh but it would have been better if Leslie had been there and left it at that.

"I'm stuck, Mauri," said Leslie quietly. "He's like shite on my shoe – I just can't get rid of him."

"What can I say?" asked Maureen, feeling cocky. "Every fucking time ye say stuff like this you're pissed off with me later for hearing it."

"I want shot of him. I want nights with you and Kilty. I hate going home." Leslie hung her head. "I'm thinking about asking for a transfer."

"You can't move out of Drumchapel, that's your bit. All your family are there."

"But I can't keep living there if this goes on. He can see my veranda from his mum's house."

"The Drum's your bit. Fuck him." Maureen punched her arm. "Look, give him his stuff, change the locks and come and stay with me for a couple of weeks."

Leslie thought about it for a moment. "You sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Naw," she lied. "And if I do your head in," she said, hoping she would, "Kilty'll put you up for a bit. And if she does your head in, Liam'll take ye in. Everything'll be great."

Leslie sat up straight for the first time in ages. "I'm going to do it," she said.

"Brilliant," said Maureen, punching the air and laughing.

"I'll tell ye what's really scary." Leslie gestured to her to come close. They leaned in until their faces were inches apart, Maureen excited, expecting a big, juicy, derisory secret about Cammy. "It's half twelve in the morning," said Leslie gravely, "and, hen, you're fucking pissed."

They sat on their little stools, staring at each other's feet and smoking. Maureen had sobered up during the day and her stomach was clawing for a drink. She stayed on her stool, afraid to go outside in case she ended up in the pub.

It was getting late and they were thinking about shutting when, looking over Leslie's shoulder, Maureen thought she saw a familiar face out in the lane. She had never seen him in the sunlight before, and because he was unusually thin, she thought she might have been mistaken. He was looking at cards on Gordon Go-a-Bike's stall, leaning over the table with his hands crammed into the pockets of his dirty jeans. Gordon looked down at him, said something short. Paulsa looked up at Gordon and smiled slowly, giving him a one-word answer. Gordon didn't look pleased. Still smiling, Paulsa wandered away from the table, looking happily around the lane and turning his face up to meet the sun. He squinted into the dark tunnel and stepped in.

Paulsa was a user. The last time Maureen had met him he was jaundiced yellow and down on his luck. Having bought a job lot of bad acid he had lost all his money and was desperately looking for friends to bail him out. When Liam needed an alibi for Douglas's death Paulsa came forward and admitted that he had been with Liam that afternoon, at Tonsa's house. Paulsa tiptoed everywhere, as if afraid that making proper contact with the ground might mitigate his delighted, drug-induced stupor. He passed Ella's empty stall, still smiling, and looked over at Lenny's TVs. He tiptoed sideways, cupping his groin to get past Elsie Tanner's friendly nose, and turned and looked at Maureen. They stared into each other's eyes for longer than a passing glance. Shoulders up around his ears, Paulsa turned back to the tunnel mouth, as if hoping hard would make him invisible, and tiptoed away.

Maureen loped after him, grabbing his elbow. Paulsa had his eyes shut and was cringing so much that he could have held a half-pint in each of the deep dips on his collarbone. "Paulsa," she said, "how are ye?"

Paulsa opened one eye. "Hi."

"Where were ye going?"

Paulsa looked around dumbly. "Too cold in here," he said.

"Are you avoiding me, Paulsa?"

Paulsa exhaled a pale imitation of a laugh. "God. No. God, why?"

She let go of his elbow and he rubbed at it as if she'd been holding it tightly. "You're keen not to see me," she said. "Have ye seen Tonsa recently?"

He shook his head, shuffling almost imperceptibly around to the door. "Naw, not Tonsa, definitely havenae seen her." Near to tears, Paulsa looked to the back of the tunnel. "Is Tonsa here?"

"Naw, Paulsa," said Maureen kindly. "I'm just asking after mutual friends."

"Oh." It took Paulsa a moment to sift through the information, determine that there was no threat to him in it and wheeze a laugh. He looked longingly out to the lane and freedom. They stared at each other for another minute.

"Paulsa, have you heard anything about this case that's coming up?"

Paulsa looked afraid again and shook his head. "Nut."

"Aren't ye going to ask me which case I'm talking about?"

Paulsa shook his head again.

"Is Liam in trouble, Paulsa?"

Paulsa tried to get past her by ramming himself into the space between her and the wall. He stayed there, pushing slightly, his head hanging over her shoulder. She stepped away and Paulsa fled past her, tiptoeing with long strides down the lane, leaping balleti-cally to avoid bodies and stalls.

"What was that about?" asked Leslie, when Maureen came back.

"I don't know." She sat down, leaning forward so that only Leslie could hear her. "That's the guy I bought the acid off, the stuff I gave to Angus. I think he'd read about the case in the paper and was frightened that I'd finger him or something."

Leslie took a long draw on her cigarette. "Didn't look like a big reader to me, to be honest."

Hesitant, spluttering rush-hour traffic left a gritty blue haze over the road. Maureen had sobered up during the day, leaving her with a dull ache to the back of her head and a terrible sense of hopelessness. She had meant to go for a drink on the way home but Leslie insisted on dropping her at the door. She was so grateful to Maureen for letting her move in and said a run up the road was the least she could do. Maureen felt she was being handled, the way the family used to handle Winnie, the way Una made sure they only ever ate in unlicensed cafes, the way drink brought by visitors was confiscated by the children at the front door, the way George made sure she wasn't left alone before they went out. After Leslie moved in tonight Maureen would be hiding in the bathroom, drinking from secret stashes like Winnie used to. She opened the passenger door. "Listen, I'm going out in a minute," she said. "I might not be in when ye get there, but you've got the spare keys, haven't ye?"