Chapter 61

Sonny looked up. ‘You’re no allowed in here son, away hame and come back when you’re eighteen. Or at least when you look it. I’m closing early the night.’

Rab stood at the bar. ‘I only want an Irn-Bru. Need to talk to you, Sonny.’

Sonny glanced across at the twins, kept his voice down. ‘You’re not supposed tae be here son. Were ye no told tae keep away? You shouldnae be here.’

Rab nodded. ‘I only wanted tae get rid of this.’ He put his hand in his pocket.

‘Stop right there.’ Sonny held up his hand, horrified. ‘Round the back for fuckssake, dae you know nuthin?’

Rab followed him to the rear of the building, handed him the St Christopher medal and chain.

‘Aye, wee George told me there was a bit of tinsel round the old cunt’s neck. This it?’

Rab nodded. ‘I need tae eat, Sonny. I’m starving.’

‘Right ye’are, son. Ye’r ma still with that ugly cunt?’

Rab nodded.

Sonny pocketed the St Christopher and chain. Reached into his waistcoat and took out two ten-pound notes. ‘Take this meantime. This is too hot tae flog here; best it goes across the water. I’ll get the rest tae ye, less commission of course.’

Rab nodded, folded the notes and stuffed them into his jeans. ‘Manky said if I was stuck to go to see him. So I told him Smithy chased us. Me and Alec. He said Mr Doyle would sort it.’

‘Aye, well Andy Doyle has sorted a lot, you’ve got that right. But it’s over, wee man. Forget it now.’

‘But . . .’

‘Sshh.’

‘I’ve got the bat.’

‘Right. Where is it now?’

‘Allotment.’

‘I’ll get it rehomed.’

‘But George said somebody came intae Gilmore’s hoose and told him not to worry, that if he hadn’t done it then he was there to do . . . was it Mr Doyle? Was he there tae kill Mr Gilmore only George got there first?’

Sonny paused. ‘It’s best you forget what you heard, forget what you’re thinking now.’

‘Only George wouldnae say who wis there, who put Mr Gilmore on the hook . . . wis it Mr Doyle?’

‘It’s over. You know nothing, son. Nothing.’

Rab nodded. ‘That’s what I told the polis.’

‘Good.’

‘How come me and Alec cannae go tae London with George?’

Sonny peered at him. ‘Did Gilmore touch either of you two?’

‘Naw. But I hate where I’m living and Alec dis tae.’

Sonny sighed. ‘It’s no jist as easy as that, son. See it costs a lot and I mean a fuck load of money tae get the kind of therapy wee George is gonnae get. Wi it being residential and that, it means he lives in and gets fed and stuff.’

‘Aye, okay. I see whit ye mean.’

Sonny knew that Rab didn’t understand why one wean had got out of it but the rest of them were left. Gilmore might have been discovered abusing George but Rab and Alec were being neglected too. ‘Christ,’ Sonny shook himself, ‘I’m turning soft. Away round the front, I’ll get ye a wee vodka tae heat ye up, then you fuck off tae the chippy or for a pizza with Alec. Understand?’

Rab nodded and followed Sonny back into the bar.

Chapter 62

It was after midnight and the rain had momentarily stopped battering the city. It was only a light drizzle by the time the Smuggler’s Rest closed. The twins had left earlier after Sonny had tipped them off about a lock-in at another pub. The Hangman’s was equally as salubrious as the Smuggler’s and Sonny had assured Shona and Heather that they would be welcome at the lock-in.

Sonny rinsed the few remaining glasses and left them upturned on the draining board for the morning. He moved quietly around the bar humming tunelessly to himself. He had his usual routine and he liked this time of the night, when it was quiet, when everyone had gone home or elsewhere. He poured himself a double vodka and sipped it as he wiped down the tables. He left the table in the corner to the last as one customer lay slumped on the chair, his body sagging, his head resting on the scarred table, mouth open, a stream of saliva dripping its way onto the table. Finally, when he had tidied everywhere else, Sonny went over to the table.

‘You’re out for the count, Mason.’ Sonny wiped around Maurice Mason’s head before leaning over and checking his breathing. It was regular and shallow. It was as if he had fallen asleep. Or maybe he was just a happy drunk who’d nestled down after one too many. Or perhaps he had simply fallen unconscious naturally. Instead of being dosed with Rohypnol. Either way Mason was snoring contentedly. Sonny went to the bar, searched underneath and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves. He walked back to the table, hauled Mason into a sitting position and patted down his coat. He opened Mason’s wallet, removed most of the contents, left the loose change and smiled, ‘This is for wee Rab in exchange for the bling.’

The video was in the right-hand pocket. Sonny slid the packet out, checked to see that the video was in place before letting Mason’s face crash back onto the table, breaking his nose in the process. Then Sonny tut-tutted, ‘Careless, Mason. You need tae be more careful or you’ll hurt yourself.’ He took out the St Christopher medal and chain and fastened it around Mason’s neck. ‘I wis going tae flog this, Mason, but it’s your lucky day, you get tae wear it.’

Sonny strolled to the counter, reached underneath and took out a large black holdall, unzipped it and unfolded a thick tarpaulin and spread it on the floor, found the ropes he’d stored earlier and placed them all together.

Then he got to work.

Outside at the back of the pub, a battered blue van was reversing quietly into the deserted car park.

Chapter 63

‘Think of it as a wee road trip for Mason.’ Stella winked at Lizzie as Sonny loaded Mason into the back of the van.

‘You jist after doing your stint at the panto?’ Sonny asked, noting the silver dress, the high heels and heavy make-up. He didn’t mention the wig and dark glasses she was holding.

‘Aye Sonny, it went like a dream.’

‘You and Doyle not out celebrating?’

She shook her head. ‘He thinks I’m out with my pals; besides, him and Weirdo are having a wee meeting. Business.’

‘You sure you want tae dae this Stella? I could’ve done it for you, no problem.’ Sonny sounded solicitous.

Stella smiled at him. ‘Definitely, Sonny. We need to say a wee cheerio to him ourselves, don’t we Lizzie? You and me, we both need closure.’

Lizzie nodded. ‘But I went tae see Doyle . . . will the polis no think that—’

Stella cut her off. ‘The polis don’t know that you went to see Andy. No one knows.’ She turned to Sonny. ‘Who saw Mason in here earlier?’

‘Only the twins and they left before I put him out. Anyway, they’d never talk to the polis.’

‘No chance,’ Stella agreed, helping to heft the body into the van.

Sonny stooped to test the rope tied around the body. ‘He’ll be out for a good few hours.’

‘He go under okay?’ Stella asked.

‘Aye. Easy enough, although his nose is busted so his breathing’s already fucked. And I put the wee bit of tinsel round his neck for luck.’

Stella looked at him. ‘Tinsel?’

‘You don’t know about it doll, but it’ll come in handy.’

Stella smiled. ‘Feeding time for the fishes.’

Lizzie whimpered.

Stella looked at her, pointed a warning finger. ‘Once it’s done, it’s done, Lizzie. End of. Move on. Lizzie Coughlin, you’re not your father’s daughter. I’m disappointed.’

Lizzie hiccupped softly but nodded her head. ‘No, I thought I could dae it . . . but . . .’

‘But what, Lizzie?’ Stella’s voice was harsh.