Gutted

Chapter 18

Hod sat at the bar, moving dust about with his finger. Mac looked bored. There were no punters in.

‘Why are you still here, Hod?’ I said.

A spin on the stool, eyes flared. ‘I’m, er, at a loose end.’

I spotted Mac. He scratched his palm nervously.

‘This better not be what I think it is.’

Mac let out a sigh, fiddled with the little stud earring in his left ear, said, ‘And what would that be?’

‘Minding… I don’t need looking after!’ I pointed to the pump beside Mac’s elbow. ‘Usual.’

The dog came running up to meet me, put claws up. I swear that dog smiled. I looked down at him. He barked. Turned his head to one side, then the other. An ear sat up.

‘Gimme a Grouse whilst you’re there.’

Mac poured the whisky, placed it down. I fired it, said, ‘Another like it.’

Looks passed between the pair of them.

‘ Yes?’

In unison: ‘Nothing. Nothing.’

‘Make it a double. Fuck it, treble.’ I smiled. ‘… As well hung for a sheep as a lamb.’ I sparked up a smoke, inhaled deep, said, ‘So spill.’

Hod bridled, tweaked the hair on the back of his knuckles. ‘I’m at a loose end.’

‘Horseshit.’

‘I am, straight up… I wouldn’t shit you about that. Why? Why would I?’

‘Cos you’re a born horseshitter.’

He rose. Walked over to me and stole a smoke from the pack that sat on top of the bar. I waited for him to speak. What he did was cough on the first drag, then make a sharp exhalation.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m bored, Gus… I told you.’

‘What about the burgeoning Hod empire… Bedsitland-by-the-Sea division must be keeping you busy with the kip of the students I see about the streets.’

‘I’ve got staff to do that now. There’s nothing left for me, Gus, business runs itself. I need something else — I’m as flat as a plate of piss.’

At once, I saw where this was going. Put the nail in that one. ‘Get a hobby.’

Hod puffed his chest at me, got bolshie. ‘I’ve done every hobby going: diving, archery — all wank.’

I wasn’t playing along. I knew the pair of them had cooked this up. The idea was to make Hod my sidekick; he could keep an eye on me. If there was one thing I didn’t need it was Hod Arnie-ing through this case, shooting all to buggery any chance I had of getting out of Dodge. I’d seen him in action before. Hod’s action I could do without.

Mac placed my pint on the bar. I raised it, slugged. Took the break in proceedings to change tack, shove Hod off balance.

‘What have you got for me this morning, Mac?’

He flung the towel over his shoulder. ‘By way of business, you mean? Well, there’s the bill from the brewery and the rates are due.. Some damp in the cludgie I’d say needs looking at smartish. Apart from that, diddly.’

‘Mac, you’re giving me chatter. This is avoidance.’

He looked at Hod. The pair put eyes on me.

I turned to the wall, checked the calendar — had a Scots piper on it in a field of bluebells. Mac seemed to get the hint. He put his hands on the bar, leaned forward. ‘There’s still a hole in the books. There was another letter from the bank.’

‘Get it over.’

Mac leaned under the bar, took out the petty cash box. He ferreted in his pocket for a bunch of keys, found the one, opened up. I snatched the envelope. It was taped along the seal. Same Manila deal as usual, same threats from the manager. ‘This looks great,’ I said.

‘We need about thirty grand to keep afloat, and that’s before any refit to get new punters in. We can’t remortgage either,’ said Mac.

I put the letter back inside the envelope, tucked it in my pocket, said, ‘Did plod see this?’

Mac nodded.

‘Great.’ If Jonny Johnstone was looking for a motive, he had one in black and white.

In the last twenty-four hours I’d been planted firmly in the shit. The funny thing was, though I was fucked, all I could think about was letting Col down. I’d run his pub into the ground. I could feel his eyes on me where I stood, admonishing me, telling me I was better than I gave myself credit for, that I could pull this back. ‘Quality ye are, boyo,’ he’d said. God, hadn’t I proved him wrong, though. Col was the only man who had ever let me make mistakes without judging. He was the only man I knew who had ever felt genuinely proud of any minor achievement I’d made in my life, had shown faith in me, trusted that I wasn’t washed up, when all evidence pointed the other way. He was nothing like my own father.

Hod smoothed down the hair at the sides of his mouth. ‘Look, I can help out, but what you need is a buyer… If I put that to the firm, they’ll think I’m running a charity. If I take over the Wall, you’ll be left with nothing, Gus.’

I didn’t want to contemplate that. It sounded far too much like what I deserved.

I went to the window, stared out. A dog barked on the street and the one at my feet let off with a round of its own.

‘ Usual… Usual, down, boy!’ roared Mac.

I was taken out of my gloom at the sight of the dog scurrying off to his basket, tail between legs. What that beast had been through put things into perspective. Thank Christ he was still in one piece.

‘What did you call him?’ I said.

Mac grinned. ‘Usual.’

‘ What?’

The pair laughed. Hod butted in: ‘He thinks it’s his name… Fits, don’t you think?’

I turned to my pint, said, ‘Jesus H. Christ… I don’t know what to think any more.’