He flinched. "Oh, bollocks."
"I'm sorry," she said. "Would they know about your business?"
"Dunno, maybe," he said. "Auch, actually they probably don't. Where are we going, anyway?"
"Well, I want to ask Benny if I can stay there for a while. I'm not allowed to go home until they've finished looking through everything and I can't stay at yours, obviously. How's Mum?"
Liam looked shifty. "Mm, well, Una's with her."
"You mean she's pissed?"
"Umm, she might be," he said quietly. "She's very upset. Una's comforting her."
"For fucksake, this is going to turn into something that happened to her, isn't it?"
"You know Mum, she could scene-steal from an eclipse." He opened the passenger door for her and saw that she was winding herself up. "Getting pissed off won't make a sod of difference. You should know that by now."
Maureen got into the car. The windows were opaque with cold condensation. Maggie was sitting in the backseat. "Oh, Maggie," said Maureen. "Have you been here all that time?"
Maggie smiled politely and nodded.
"Why didn't you come inside? You must have been freezing."
"I didn't like to," she said vaguely.
Liam revved the engine. "Let's go and see Benito," he said, and pulled out into the Maryhill Road. "Benito Finite"
An unmarked police car followed the Herald at a discreet distance.
Hillhead Comprehensive's catchment area covers a middle-class area and a profoundly deprived one. Benny came from the latter. He had been expelled in third year for setting fire to a toilet but Maureen and Liam stayed in touch with him because he was mental and a good laugh.
Benny drank like his father. Consequently his early life was a series of Dadaesque adventures: he woke up in a meat factory, he got engaged to a woman whose name he couldn't remember, he fell into a quarry on a Saturday night and didn't manage to get out until the men came to work on Monday morning. When he was twenty he said he was sick of getting his face kicked in all the time and started attending Alcoholics Anonymous and got sober. He was homeless at the time and Maureen let him sleep on her bedroom floor at home. He talked about nothing but the joy of AA for two months. Winnie came to hate him.
His alcoholic family disowned him when he moved in with Maureen's family and got sober. He did some exams at college and got into Glasgow University to study law. His family owned him again. He was in senior honors studying corporate law and had a series of traineeship interviews lined up with high-flying companies. His bank manager kept writing to him, asking him to take out more loans.
THEY DREW UP INTO Scaramouch Street. It was short, only four closes long, with bollards blocking off the end from the Maryhill Road. The street used to be a handy cutoff before the lights. When the bollards first went up several drivers, thinking they'd be cute and save a couple of minutes, swerved straight into them and wrote their cars off. They climbed the stairs to the second floor and knocked. Benny opened the door. He wasn't bad-looking: he was dark with long eyelashes and kind gray eyes, six foot something tall, and had a solid muscular frame, but his close association with Liam and the rest of her family made Maureen squeamish about fancying him. He looked Maureen up and down and burst out laughing. "What the fuck are you wearing?" he squealed. "You look like a ned!"
Maureen pushed her way in through the door. "I've had a bit of an eventful day," she said, and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Benny was a dirty bastard: the kitchen was filthy. Dishes, bits of food and packaging were sitting on the work tops and table, the sink was full and smelled faintly of mildew.
She could hear them in the hall, Liam mumbling the story in a monotone and Benny whispering exclamations back. Liam called to her that he was going to drop Maggie home and would be back in half an hour.
Benny stayed in the living room for a few minutes before coming into the kitchen. His face was gray. "Jesus, Mauri," he said, "Jesus. I don't know what to say."
Maureen dropped into a chair and covered her face with her hands. She wanted to cry but nothing seemed real. Benny sat next to her, putting his arms around her, holding her close and kissing her hair. He was trembling. "Oh, Mauri," he whispered, "Jesus, Mauri, it's so shockin'." She sat up and asked him for a fag. "Haven't you got any?" She explained what had happened to hers and he insisted that she take his packet.
He gave her a lemonade and an ashtray and sat at the table with her, leaning close and listening intently. She told him about the cagoul and the shoes and the rope. How could they get into the house, she kept saying, how could they get in the front door without making a noise?
"Did Douglas have his own key?" asked Benny.
"Aye."
"And there was no sign of forced entry?"
"Not that I noticed."
"Well, Douglas must have let himself in and, either then or later, let in the person who did it. Unless they picked the lock. What kind of locks have you got?"
Maureen described them.
"They'd have to know what they were doing," he said. "Chances are he let them in so ye can conclude that he knew them."
"Aye." She was impressed by the logic of his deduction. "Aye, that'll be it. You're good at this."
"This is awful. I suppose they think it was one of his clients from the clinic. Or could it be the woman he was living with?"
"Elsbeth?"
"Yeah, Elsbeth. It's kind of poetic, killing your unfaithful man in the other woman's house."
"It didn't look very poetic," said Maureen.
"Oh, fuck, I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry, it's hard to take in."
"I know," said Maureen. "It's so shocking it almost isn't." Her bum was numb again. She stood up and rubbed it with her palms. "I've had a very fucking strange day," she said, as if the fact had just occurred to her.
"How're ye fixed? Did you leave your wallet at home too?" He took a tenner out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand.
"I don't need any money, Benny. I'll get my wallet from the police."
"Just take it in case, okay?"
"I'll give it back as soon as I get my wallet."
Benny quirked an eyebrow playfully. "Give it back to me when you give me that Selecter CD back."
Maureen rolled her eyes. "God, not again, Benny, I gave you that back months ago."
"Ye never did."
"Benny Gardner, I'll buy you a replacement but you're going to find that CD in this filthy house and ye'll have to crawl to me."
"It's been discontinued and, Mauri, I'm telling ye, you'll find it in your filthy house and you'll have to crawl to me."
Maureen finished her lemonade. "Can you think of anything else about Douglas, Benny? Any more elementary-my-dear-Watsons?"
Benny smiled, pleased at being asked.
"Not off the top of my head, no."
Maureen slumped over the table. "I'm worried they'll think I did it."
"Oh, no" – he took her hand and squeezed it tightly – "they won't think that. They won't. Anyone who knows you could tell them it wasn't you. When you went into the living room, did you see a murder weapon?"
Maureen thought her way back through the room, censoring Douglas's body out of the picture. "I dunno, um, no. But I didn't get a good look, really." She blinked and saw a blood-soaked curl of hair behind his ear, and below that his poor broken neck, sliced open like a raw joint. She got up, washed her hands over the dirty dishes in the sink and tried to blink away the image.
"I'm just asking because it'd be good if they didn't find one," he said.
She splashed cold water on her face. "Find one what?"
"A murder weapon."
"Why?"
"Well, if you were in the house all the time and the weapon's found somewhere else that means someone came in, did it and then went away again. That'll be good for you."
"Okay," said Maureen, having trouble seeing how any of this could be good for her. She sat back down at the table. "It turns out they were married, after all. I feel like such a mug."