Jackie Mallon’s voice was edged with concern. ‘Charlie? Sorry to call you at home. Need your help.’
‘What’s happened? Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine. More than can be said for your mate.’
‘Patrick?’
‘Andrew.’
‘What about, Andrew?’
‘He’s drunk.’
‘How drunk?’
‘Drunk drunk. Fourteen out of ten on the Mankometer, as your other mate might say.’
‘Don’t let him drive. Take his keys off him. Get him a taxi.’
Jackie could come to those conclusions without me telling her. That wasn’t why she was calling. ‘It’s beyond that. He’s in the bar, giving everybody their character. I’m going to have to call the police. Last thing I want to do except we are trying to run a business. He’s a good customer and all that but…’
She left the rest unspoken. Getting arrested for being drunk and disorderly wasn’t going to do much for Andrew’s career. In the background I could hear a man yelling obscenities
‘That him?’
She sighed. ‘That’s him. And, pal or no pal, it can’t go on. How soon can you be here?’
‘I’m on my way.’
The drive through the city gave me time to think. Andrew hadn’t been himself lately. I’d been aware the job was getting him down though I hadn’t realised just how bad it had become. Geddes was a hard man to get close to; he only ever told you what he wanted you to know. Behind his gruff exterior was a grouchy bastard, waiting to get out, and he discouraged personal questions. I parked on Ingram Street and quickened my pace. Jackie could have called Sandra. Instead, she’d called me. Things must be bad.
And they were.
Andrew was standing in the middle of the bar and didn’t see me come in. It was Saturday night; the restaurant was fully booked. He mimed pulling an imaginary pin from an imaginary grenade and lobbing it into the diners.
‘Here! Share that amongst you!’
Jackie made a gesture with her hand across her throat that told me whatever goodwill Geddes had been travelling on, had been used up. Drunks could be an amusing distraction. By the look on the faces of the people in the bar, Andrew had stopped being funny.
I tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and I knew Pat Logue’s Mankometer was going to need recalibrated. Manky didn’t cover it. Geddes could hardly see. His eyes narrowed, searching for focus. When he realised who it was, he threw his arms round me like a long lost brother.
‘Charlie! Charlie boy! What’re you drinking?’
He dredged change from a trouser pocket and gave it to me. Half a dozen coins landed on the floor and rolled in different directions. Andrew didn’t notice.
‘Get whatever that’ll buy you. And one for me while you’re at it.’
The money wasn’t enough for a packet of crisps let alone a round.
‘You don’t need any more. I’m taking you home.’
Not what he wanted to hear. In an instant his mood altered. He pushed me away, snarling and swaying unsteadily. ‘What the fuck’re you talking about? I’ll go when I’m good and ready to go and not before. Who do you think you are?’
‘Somebody who can see you’ve had enough.’
Andrew balled his fits. He wasn’t a violent man but he was in a bad place and spoiling for a fight. His coat hung awkwardly, half on half off, the tie he’d been wearing probably lying in a gutter somewhere.
White foam gathered at the corners of Andrew’s lips. He tried to wipe his mouth on the sleeve of his coat and missed. His voice slurred, hoarse with unhappiness, speaking to everyone and no one; a mix of rage and tears, unrecognisable from the tough-as-old-boots Glasgow copper who’d seen it all and survived.
The story came out in a spittle spray. ‘Had enough? Tell you what I’ve had enough of – bastards telling me what to do. Sick of it. Sick!’
‘Andrew, listen…’
He grabbed hold of a chair to save himself joining the coins on the floor. Angry eyes blazed; he had me in his sights. Friendships die on nights like this.
‘Charlie. Charlie Cameron.’ He grinned ugly and introduced me to the crowd. ‘Charlie’s a clever cunt. Smart arse extraordinaire.’
The booze was doing the talking and it had plenty to say. Tomorrow Andrew would be sorry. Now he was cruel and unstoppable. His next shot tested the years we’d known each other.
‘Still looking for your sister, Charlie? Still looking for Pamela?’
It was time to end this. I moved towards him. He swung a punch that hadn’t a snowball’s chance of connecting but sent him off balance and knocked a table over. I caught him on his way down and hauled him upright.
Jackie was beside me. ‘I’ll send one of the waiters with you to get him home.’
‘No need. I’ll manage.’
‘Where are you parked?’
‘Outside.’
Jackie Mallon ignored me and with the help of two guys from NYB, we poured Andrew into the back seat, unconscious. On the drive to my place he slept. When we arrived in Cleveden Drive the fun began. Geddes was heavy. By myself it took twenty-five minutes to get him inside. At one point he tried to kiss me; for me, the worst thing he’d done all night. In the lounge I dropped him on the couch and sat listening to him snore, wondering what had inspired a blow-out this big.
I threw a quilt over him and went to bed. In the morning maybe he’d tell me what had inspired such craziness. When he’d lifted the first whisky, for sure, he didn’t have good times on his mind.
Then again, it was Andrew – a guy who only told you what he wanted you to know.
I wouldn’t hold my breath.
Noises from next door told me the barroom brawler was awake. The hiss of the kettle meant moves were being made. I could only guess at how Andrew was feeling and thanked God it wasn’t me. Sometime after nine, the noises stopped and I tip-toed through to see how he was doing.
He wasn’t in the lounge; he was in the bathroom. I knocked on the door. ‘Andrew, are you okay?’
His bad tempered response reassured me the real Geddes was back. ‘What do you think? No, I’m not fucking okay. I’m dying.’
Normal service had been resumed.
When he eventually made it back to the couch, I was waiting with coffee, water and Alka Seltzer. He’d aged about a hundred years: deep lines that hadn’t been there before ran from his mouth to the end of his chin, matched by the ones under the sunken hollows where his eyes used to be. He gazed at me like a lost soul, put his head in his hands and tried to make some sense of how he’d woken up on my couch in my flat.
‘Christ. Never been as bad as this.’
My lack of sympathy surprised him. ‘Serves you right. Lucky you’re not in the cells.’ That got his attention. ‘How much of last night do you remember? Honestly.’
He squinted at me, probably because looking hurt too much. ‘Started early in a pub in Finnieston. Stayed there most of the afternoon then moved on to the BrewDog.’
‘And after that?
‘Vroni’s.’
‘West Nile Street. Wine on top of whisky. Not wise. Then where?’
He dragged a hand across his face, pulling his features to one side as if they were made of Plasticine. When he let go they slowly reformed like a movie special effect and I was looking at Andrew’s grandfather again.
Geddes was prepared to let me believe Vroni’s was his final destination except I knew better. He didn’t add another name to the pub crawl until I asked again.
‘Then where did you go?’
He tried to bluster his way out of admitting he wasn’t sure, pretending to lose it with me. Or maybe he wasn’t pretending.
‘Christ sake. What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? Can’t you see I’m suffering?’
‘Take the Alka Seltzer, you’ll feel better.’
He took a sip and glared at me. ‘You’re a smug bastard, did I ever tell you that?’
‘That and more, Andrew. After Vroni’s, where?’
He kept his eyes on the carpet. Eventually he gave me the answer he didn’t want to give. ‘It’s a blank but I’m guessing you’re going to tell me. Did we meet in a pub or did I roll up here uninvited?’
I considered my reply. ‘A bit of both.’
‘See what I mean about smug?’
‘It’s a long story but you aren’t well enough to hear it.’
I stood. If he wanted into NYB again, the whole sorry tale would have to come out. At the very least, Jackie was due an apology. I wouldn’t bet on her accepting it. She was fiercely protective of what she’d built and, no matter what lay behind it, the scene last night had been unacceptable. Anybody else would be waking up in the cells this morning. Giving Andrew a blow-by-blow about what he’d done would be kicking a man when he was down. I satisfied myself with lesser tortures. Cruel but fun.
‘So, breakfast?’
The thought was enough to turn his stomach. He groaned. ‘Don’t mention food. Said it before but this time I’m serious. I’m never drinking again.’
I’d seen Andrew Geddes low before. During his divorce from Elspeth he’d lost the place on occasion and tried to escape the bitter battle it became by drowning himself in booze. This was different.
‘Hair of the dog any good to you?’
He turned his face away as if he’d been slapped, then thought better of it. ‘Take more than the hair. I’m rough as a badger’s. What’ve you got?’
‘Can probably manage a whisky.’
‘Make it a glass. A beer too, if you have one.’
So much for never again.
I brought him the drinks and watched the alcohol undo the damage it had caused. Eventually Andrew said, ‘You didn’t answer my question.’
He meant about where we’d met.
‘Didn’t I? I thought I had.’
He studied me, reluctant to push it, yet unable to hold his anxiety in check. ‘Bad was I? Doesn’t surprise me.’ He shook his head. ‘I was poison from the off yesterday. Heading for the rocks from the minute I got out of bed.’
‘What’s the problem?’
Geddes sipped the whisky and washed it down with beer. ‘I’ve come to a decision, Charlie. I’m resigning from the force.’
I hid my surprise. ‘Why would you want to do that?’
Andrew toyed with the amber liquid in his hand. ‘Wanting to doesn’t come into it. I’m past my sell-by date. Happens to the best of us if you hang around long enough.’
‘Says who?’
‘Says me. Never over-stay a welcome. I’m a dinosaur, apparently.’
‘Yeah, but you were a dinosaur to begin with, what’s changed?’
He didn’t smile. ‘The Service. More about politics than policing these days. I don’t fit in so I’ll leave it to those who do. Good luck to them.’
Being a policeman had been Andrew’s life ever since I’d known him. He was a great detective. If he was a dinosaur, then Glasgow could do with a Jurassic Park-load. Something or someone had set him down a dark road where the consequences of acting in haste hadn’t been thought through. Andrew needed the police force as much as it needed him. Without his job he’d be lost.
He finished the whisky and grimaced. I pointed to the empty glass. ‘Same again?’
He hesitated. ‘I’m starting to come round.’
‘Is that a refusal?’
‘See what I mean about smug. Can’t help yourself, can you? Just a splash.’
‘One condition. Tell me what’s brought this on. And leave the self-pity out of it.’
‘In that case, you better bring the bottle.’
I came back from the kitchen with his splash and what was left of the lager and waited for him to begin. For a while he stared at the floor. When he finally spoke the poor-me act was gone.
‘You know about the body on the Queen Margaret Bridge?’
I nodded. ‘Councillor found hanged. You’re on that?’
‘Yes and my boss is falling over himself to file it as a suicide and move on.’
‘But you’re not convinced?’
‘I’ve no idea one way or the other. I’m absolutely convinced we haven’t properly considered the facts. Barr had his mind made up from the start. At the scene, the smell of whisky off the dead man would’ve knocked you down. That was all he needed to call it suicide.’
‘Is there evidence that says it wasn’t?’
Andrew snorted. ‘We may never know. Barr refuses to investigate anything that might put a hole in his conclusion.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Because he’s determined to impress the powers-that-be by not wasting resources on open and shut cases.’
‘So you’re butting heads. Been there before, haven’t you?’
Andrew finished the lager and read the label. ‘Camden Hells. Trust you to have la-di-da beer.’
Not long ago, he hadn’t been so critical.
‘Remind me to have Tartan Special in for your next visit. Go on with the story.’
‘The TOX report will show Anthony Daly was paralytic. So my question is: how does a man who can hardly stand get to the bridge and secure the knot to a lamp-post?’
‘Had to have help.’
‘Correct, Charlie. And get this. The same day, the guy books a weekend in Rome for his sister’s birthday.’
‘Just for her?’
‘No. For both of them.’
‘Then he wasn’t thinking about topping himself.’
‘But proving it would mean man-hours, so Barr wants it put to bed.’
Geddes paced the room, animated; talking with an intensity that had risen from nowhere; punching a fist against his palm as he reaffirmed his belief in why he’s spent over twenty years of his life as a copper.
‘Budgets are important. Resources are precious. But policing isn’t a business and can’t be treated like a business. It’s about people. Not hitting targets and ticking fucking boxes.’
He sat down and covered his face with his hands. ‘I interviewed the sister. She’s heart-broken. Hard enough to look somebody in the eye when you’re sure you’ve done your best. When you haven’t…’
‘So where has it been left?’
‘Case is closed. Barr’s a man in a hurry. Climbing the ladder. Christ only knows what his next half-arsed attempt will be. Accused me of resenting him, can you believe it? I’m a dinosaur because I want to do the job the way it should be done. It’s time to go time, Charlie, and yesterday I realised it.’
He waited for my reaction and I let him. ‘Two things jump out at me, Andrew. First: Barr’s right, you do resent him. His career is going somewhere and yours isn’t.’
Geddes exploded. ‘Resent him? He’s a dick! Couldn’t detect his way out of a paper bag.’
‘Bottom line: he’s giving the orders and you’re taking them. Of course you resent him. Anybody would. He’ll be in your universe for five minutes before he’s off and another educated incompetent tosser takes his place. Unless you get motivated and go for promotion yourself.’
He glared at me but I had his attention.
‘You’re the man who caught Richard Hill. That should’ve taken you to detective inspector. It didn’t because you don’t want it. Until some rookie starts teaching his granny to suck eggs, then you want to throw in the towel.’
‘What’s the second thing?’
‘If the case is closed the police are no longer involved, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Have somebody else investigate it.’
‘Like who?’
‘You’re looking at him.’
‘Thought you had your hands full with the missing doctor?’
I corrected him. ‘Gavin Law. And he’s an obstetrician. Hands full isn’t how I’d describe it. Nothing else on the credit cards, is there?’
‘Haven’t heard anything.’
‘Then it’s going nowhere. Can’t keep taking Caroline Law’s money. So…’
Andrew threw his arms round me and hugged me so hard I couldn’t breathe. I was back to being a long-lost brother. His hangover was on the run.
‘Well make a start tomorrow. I’ll come to your office and we’ll go over it in detail.’
I stopped him. ‘That could be a problem.’
‘How?’
‘Jackie will tell you when you see her.’
Andrew didn’t understand; he soon would.
‘My advice: buy the biggest bunch of flowers you can find and wear a suit of armour.’
I closed the blinds in the spare room and left Andrew to die in peace. On my way out, I closed the door. I had a call to make and Gavin Law’s sister wouldn’t be happy with what I was going to tell her. The brother she blindly adored was still missing and I hadn’t come close to discovering what had happened to him. Asking who had the most to gain with him out of the picture was a legitimate question. Of course, Wallace Maitland and the hospital weren’t exactly heartbroken; they were off the hook. But, if the rape allegation was real – and if it was true – disappearing suited Law as well as any.
On the other end of the phone, Caroline sounded calm. More measured in her reaction than I’d expected. Some of the fight had gone out of her.
‘I’m disappointed, of course, though I understand. You’ve done all you can, so it’s over for you.’
The standard lines, meant to reassure, rang hollow even to me; they were all I had.
‘The situation may change. Gavin might show up on your doorstep or call.’
She seized the straw and clung to it. ‘At least I’d know he was all right.’
Before the conversation ended I gave Caroline something else to hold on to. ‘For the record, I haven’t found anybody at Francis Fallon who’s even heard about the allegation against him.’
She reverted to type. Prickly, righteous and completely invested in the myth she’d created. ‘I’ve been saying that from the beginning. Why doesn’t anybody listen?’