Dead And Buried

Seventy-five

For several reasons, Alex was glad she had gone to Gullane for the night. It had given Sarah the opportunity to tell her, face to face, why, from her side of the situation, her marriage to Bob had failed. She had been able to have breakfast with her brothers and sister. But most of all, it had got her away from the flat, and from that damn phone. She had to admit to herself, if to nobody else, that the calls had been getting to her. The sense of being hunted was one she had never experienced before, and she did not like it. As she thought about it, sitting in the lunch-time restaurant, waiting for Gina, she felt cold, dispassionate anger welling up inside her: if she was someone’s prey, then he was in for a hell of a shock when he caught up with her.

As she looked back over her week, she realised yet again how much she loved her job. It was the central pillar of her life, and she had chosen it as such, for a few more years, at least. She had been given the ‘wife and mother’ ultimatum when she had been engaged to Andy, and had rejected it, and him. In doing so, she had set herself a single objective: to be a partner in Curle Anthony and Jarvis by the time she was thirty. Already she was the firm’s youngest associate, so she was on track: the better you were, the more you were in demand. That overriding purpose allowed her to laugh off all the blips in her social life, even Guy Luscomb, that conceited, self-satisfied, useless prick. The dual connotation of that thought made her laugh to herself.

Or so she thought. ‘Hey,’ said Gina Reed. ‘What’s lit up your day?’

‘Oh, nothing.’ She laughed again. ‘At least not very much. I was thinking of my flexible friend from London, that was all. How’s yours been so far?’

Her friend laid a series of bags against the wall next to their table. ‘Hell on earth, darling. The shops at this time of year are just unbearable, even during the week.’

Alex pointed to her haul. ‘You seem to have battled through, though. I have to confess that this year I’m doing most of my Christmas shopping on the Internet.’

‘Who’s the big present for this year? Guy?’

‘Piss off. He’ll get a card if he’s lucky. It’ll be for my dad, I suppose, but what do you give a man who has everything?’

‘A repair kit.’

‘They don’t make them for what’s broke in his life. I had a heart-to-heart with my soon-to-be-ex-stepmother last night. She’s making preparations to go back to America and concentrate on doctoring.’

Gina frowned. ‘You never told me that was on the cards.’

‘Sorry, but it’s been a deep, dark family secret. They’re still not putting it too widely about, so keep it to yourself till you hear it from someone else. There will be talk, no doubt about it: all sorts of suggestions will be made, and if any of them are made to you I’d be grateful if you’d say they’re splitting up by mutual consent, no third parties involved.’

‘And is that true?’

‘In time it may not appear so, but it is.’

Gina rubbed her hands together. ‘Ooow,’ she squeaked, ‘that means your dad’s back in the market-place. Talk about interesting older men!’

‘My dad is off limits, girlfriend, so no trying to pull him at my housewarming.’

‘Bitch. In that case I’ll have to make do with that new neighbour of yours. What’s his name again?’

‘Griff, you mean?’

‘That’s the man: very tasty.’

‘I think Spring might have something to say about that.’

‘I sincerely hope not: she’s his sister.’

Alex gasped. ‘His. . How do you know that?’

‘My firm did the conveyancing on his flat. I only found out about it yesterday when I mentioned to the partner involved that you had a new place. He spilled the whole tin of beans. Trust me, they’re bro’ and sis’, house-sharing.’

‘Mmm. He borrowed my corkscrew last night.’

‘Hey! How phallic can you get? Was it the first move, do you think?’

‘Highly unlikely, after he saw me saying goodbye to my unshaven one-night stand.’

‘Yes, slut,’ said Gina, cheerfully. She turned in her chair and called to a waiter: ‘Any chance of a couple of menus over here? We’ve come for lunch, not dinner.’ He scowled at her, but handed her two large plastic cards.

‘You know what I like about you, pal?’ Alex laughed. ‘It’s your subtlety.’

‘Speaking of which, I had to be subtle in tracking down my wayward cousin. I called Nolan and asked him where Raymond was. I’ve never known my favourite uncle be short with me before but he was. All he said was “I’ve no idea,” then hung up on me. I wound up having to phone round all the cousins. Eventually, one of them, Sugar. . and before you ask, yes, that is her real name. . came up with a mobile number for him.’

‘And?’

‘And so I called it. I had a pint with him last night in a pub up in Nicholson Street; bloody freezing it was, by the way. The heating had packed in. We talked about this and that, and the next thing. I asked what he was doing with himself, and he said that he had some business on the go, an investment in a nightclub, and in a new one that’s opening down at the foot of Dundas Street.’

‘How did he look?’

‘Older than his years, but otherwise okay. Somewhere during the third pint, I finally managed to work your name into the conversation, to see how he’d react. I have to say that “disinterested” is the best description I can come up with. I told him you were doing really well with your firm. He just shrugged and said, “Surprise, surprise. I’ll bet she’s got them all by the balls.” Sorry, dear, that’s a direct quote.’

‘If I had they’d all be a bigger handful than his,’ Alex grunted vengefully.

‘Tut, tut! That’s my young cousin you’re speaking about. Anyway, I came out and told him that you’d been having nasty phone calls.’

‘Jesus, Gina, I just wanted you to track him down for me, not confront him with it.’

‘And how exactly were you planning to do that?’

Alex’s reply was stalled by the surly waiter who came to take their orders. When he had gone to fetch two caprese salads, she said, ‘I hadn’t worked that out yet, but still. .’

‘Well, it’s done. When I told him he just laughed and said, “Tough fucking luck.” I told him it wasn’t funny, and that when your dad’s guys traced whoever was doing it they’d have him for breakfast, lunch and high tea, then make soup with what was left. He didn’t have anything to say to that.’

‘So what do you think? Could it be him?’

Gina frowned, unusually serious. ‘I’d love to say “No,” because he is my kin. I’d even like to say “Yes,” because then it could all be sorted. But honestly, love, I just don’t know.’