‘Is he expecting you?’
‘We’re not in an episode of Upstairs Downstairs, Charlie, and you’d make a shite Gordon Jackson. Go tell the man I’m here, and make sure to say I need a word rather than want one.’
The barman put down the glass he’d been drying and flipped the tea towel over his left shoulder, then headed towards the snug. Laidlaw knew he was being studied like a medical specimen as he lit a cigarette. He kept his face to the row of quarter-gill optics behind the bar. There was no television, no music, and until he vacated the room there’d be no more conversation. The tension in the bar was probably at its usual level, these being men who treated every waking moment and passing stranger as a potential threat.
When Charlie the barman re-emerged, he reached beneath the counter and handed Laidlaw an unopened bottle of the good whisky and two glasses. ‘John doesn’t take water,’ he said, meaning none would be offered for Laidlaw.
With the cigarette gripped between his teeth, Laidlaw walked into the snug. At one time its purpose would have been to protect women from the masculine world of the main bar. Now it held only John Rhodes and his bodyguard, the one with the face disfigured by razor scars. Rhodes tended to change bodyguards regularly, so that they didn’t become soft and lazy. This one had been around longer than most, long enough in fact that it might be worth Laidlaw’s time finding out his name. Not right now, though. After a nod in the man’s direction, he placed the bottle and glasses on the table and seated himself opposite Rhodes. He knew better than to open the bottle. That was Rhodes’s duty. An inch of amber duly appeared in Laidlaw’s glass, half as much again in Rhodes’s.
‘I hear you’ve picked up Spanner Thomson,’ Rhodes said without preamble.
‘News travels fast.’
‘It might make sense, I suppose — all businesses have their power struggles and fallings-out.’
‘Any reason to think Thomson had a particular falling-out with Bobby Carter?’
‘Spanner and Colvin go back to schooldays. Carter arrived later.’
‘Simple jealousy, then.’
Rhodes sipped his drink before meeting Laidlaw’s eyes for the first time. ‘Carter wanted to see me. We arranged to meet at the Parlour. In the end, I didn’t show up.’
‘Why not?’
‘I wasn’t sure it would end well.’
‘How long ago was this?’
‘Three or four weeks back.’
Laidlaw gave a slight nod. The timing chimed with the story Conn Feeney had given him.
‘Any idea what he wanted?’
‘Two theories — one, negotiating to switch sides, sounding out what sort of offer I might make.’
‘And the other?’
‘Carter enjoyed the life. He didn’t just set up camp in the picture house when The Godfather came out, he’d read the book a few times, too. Rumour was, he wanted his own slice of Glasgow. If I gave him a bit and Colvin gave him a bit, he’d create a kind of buffer zone between us, meaning less potential for strife.’
‘That would have been ambitious.’
‘Bobby Carter was an ambitious man. He knew he had a brain and he reckoned that made him better than most.’
‘Had he talked to Colvin, do you think?’
‘No idea. But say someone like Spanner Thomson found out. You can see how that might have escalated.’
‘Or else Spanner took the info to his boss, who flipped, did Carter in himself, and popped the carcass on your doorstep to blur the picture.’ Laidlaw paused for a moment, deep in thought, then roused himself. ‘And speaking of escalations, how are things between you and Colvin right now?’
Rhodes’s look hardened. ‘There are some questions you don’t get to ask.’
‘And yet my job demands that I do. But I’m happy to change the subject to Chick McAllister.’
‘What’s Chick got to do with anything?’
‘I need a chat with him, that’s all. I’m sure he’ll fill you in afterwards.’
‘You don’t ask much, do you?’
‘Just as much as I need.’ Laidlaw lifted his glass and sipped.
‘Does Milligan really expect Spanner Thomson to break down and confess?’
‘He’s one of life’s eternal optimists.’
‘But you know better, don’t you?’
‘I try.’
The two men sat in silence until Rhodes angled his head quarter of an inch in the direction of the scarred man, this being as much as was necessary.
‘Go rustle up Chick.’
After the man had left, Rhodes gave Laidlaw his full attention. ‘Are you wondering how he got the scars?’
‘Asking too many questions?’
This almost elicited a smile. ‘I gave him them. This was a few years before he came to work for me.’
‘You trust him not to want payback?’
‘Those were payback, meaning the books are balanced between us. Seems to me I’m the one doling out favours to you and it’s all been a one-way street so far. If war does break out, I hope you’ll remember that.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my memory.’
‘That’s good to hear, because with Thomson in custody Colvin is two men down and I foresee a lot of headless chickens running around.’
‘The sort of mayhem that could be capitalised on.’
‘You know yourself that these reckonings happen from time to time. It clears the air the way a thunderstorm does, and afterwards the boundaries are re-established, meaning everybody’s happy.’
‘The ones still able to walk, talk and feed themselves without assistance,’ Laidlaw qualified.
The scarred man was back in the room again.
‘He’ll be here in five,’ he said.
Rhodes nodded and focused on Laidlaw again. ‘But he’s not going to tell you a thing until I know what you need from him.’
Laidlaw considered for a moment. ‘McAllister went out with a young woman called Jennifer Love. After they broke up, Carter took her under his wing.’
‘And you think that gives Chick a motive to do in Bobby Carter?’
‘Not especially, but when I give the connection to Milligan, he might. All I’m doing here is trying to rule him out to my own satisfaction so the investigation doesn’t waste any more time than it already has.’
‘In other words, you’ve not told your colleagues about Chick and Jennifer Love?’ Rhodes pressed his palms against the surface of the table as if readying to commence a seance. Laidlaw knew that he was storing the information away. Here was a detective who didn’t always take everything to his bosses, a detective capable of keeping secrets.
Maybe a rare cop John Rhodes could trust without money changing hands.
The gesture had revealed the large gold wristwatch on his left wrist. He seemed to notice the time and slowly rose to his feet.
‘You stay here and ask Chick your questions. I’ve got business elsewhere.’
‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, John.’
Laidlaw was rewarded with another thin smile. The scarred man started to help Rhodes into his camel-hair coat.
‘Any relation to the footballer?’ Rhodes asked, almost too casually.
‘Who are we talking about?’
‘Archie Love. It’s not the most common surname.’
‘He’s her father, aye,’ Laidlaw conceded, watching Rhodes closely, wondering what was happening behind eyes that hadn’t yet blinked. No more was said, however, as the two men departed the snug. Laidlaw rolled his shoulders and neck a few times to loosen the knots, Rhodes having turned him, too, into an actor for the duration, one learning his lines a split second before having to deliver them. He was getting out another cigarette when the barman appeared, placing a jug of water on the table.