Lonie26

The rain fell in slanted sheets, bowled along the Clyde by high winds. How to stay dry was a problem even Confucius couldn’t have solved. Lonie opted to shiver in the stairwell of the Glasownian. He’d a lot of talking and explaining to do to Audrey, smoking heated him up and gave him something to do with his hands, while he avoided thinking about it. He peeked his head out and back in again, like one of those top-heavy, glass- faced birds with long beaks found on desks that bounced back and forwards with a flick of the finger. Audrey was a creature of habit. He watched her park her car, get out and try and put a brolley up. By the time the high winds had turned it inside out, her skirt was soaked at the knees and Lonie had turned his collar up and began splashing through the rain to meet her. He almost ran past her. She’d crossed the road and was on the side of the office block, walking with her head down against the wind, her brolley pushing other pedestrians out of the way. She felt Lonie grabbing her by the arm and trying unsuccessfully to shelter beside her.

‘Don’t bother goin’ in there. We’ve got work to do.’ The fag perched on Lonie’s lips was a wet, crumpled and fool- hardy attempt to defy the known laws of physics by still being lit.

Audrey pushed him sideways and kept walking. ‘What work?’

Lonie thought it obvious. ‘The Goldenwell Case.’

Audrey slowed to snail pace, her face whiter than normal. ‘What about it? I wish. I wish you’d never got me involved in it. It’s been nothing, but trouble. You’ve been nothing, but trouble. And now I’ll probably get demoted, or worse loss my job over it. Just do me a favour and leave me be.’

Lonie sneaked his head under the umbrella again. She shoved him away. He almost tripped over his own feet as he fell backwards into a pedestrian coming the other way. ‘You didnae need to do that!’ Rain water ran down his face, slicked his hair, making a dark stain on the shoulders of his coat. ‘Ah thought you were a lady.’

Audrey climbed the first few stairs of their building. ‘I thought you were trouble. And I was right.’ She pointed the nib of the brolley outside, where Lonie was standing on the pavement, and ratcheted the metal stays of the parasol very quickly, up and down, in an attempt to shake off any excess rainwater.

Lonie stood with his head down and made no attempt to move away from the splashes. He looked up at her. ‘Alright, Ah’m an areshole. That doesnae matter. What matters is we’ve got a story, A good story to pursue, and Ah’ll make a muck of it unless Ah get a bit of help.’ She made no attempt to cut and run which he saw as a good sign. ‘So what do you say?’

Audrey looked down at him and thought he did look and sound rather pathetic. That alone made her sympathetic, but in his usual inept way, he’d forgotten one very important element. ‘We’ve not got a story. We had a story, but you had to play a game of macho-hardman with one of the guards and we lost the story. So I’m sorry. I really am, but I don’t like being late and I really need to get back to my work.’

Lonie’s coat flapped behind him as he caught her on the first landing of the stairs. ‘Hing on.’ He grabbed her by the coated elbow to stop her, but the look she gave him made his hand drop quickly away. ‘The Cardinal has given us full access to the secure unit. Day or night.’ Lonie began coughing. He ran down and into the street to spit outside in the gutter.

Audrey paused with her foot on the second floor landing. ‘I don’t believe you.’ She kept walking along the corridor, passing other workers. She ignored the day shift editors slouching and talking behind the partition glass window of the fatman’s office and eyeing her up. Her office chair squealed as she pulled it back and hung her coat on its frame. She straightened her typewriter a fraction on the desk, looked at her inbox and was for once glad there was so much work. Before she started typing she heard a kerfuffle of stamping feet.

In seconds, Lonie stood panting beside Audrey’s desk. ‘Tell her.’ Lonie addressed Davie, who was behind him.

‘Tell her what?’ said Davie.

‘Tell her we’ve got full authorised access to the secure unit, day or night.’

Audrey glanced at Davy. Her fingers were paused on the keyboard in the crabbed QUERTY position.

Davy said in a monotone voice. ‘Lonie says that you’ve got full and unauthorised…’

Audrey started typing very fast; her eyes were on the A4 sized paper as she beat out word after word, line after line.

Lonie kicked the side of her desk. She stopped abruptly, her long white neck turning swan-like as she looked at him.

‘Just phone the Cardinal’s office.’ Lonie flicked a bit of balled up paper onto her desk.

Audrey carefully picked it up. It felt grey and incomplete. Her long fingers smoothed the paper out, with her nose crinkling in disdain at his shoddiness. She reached into her bag and brought out her diary. She compared the number Lonie had written with the one in her book. Her fingers rested on the phone’s receiver. She looked over at Lonie. He was nodding his head at her, his body mannerisms urging her to phone, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if it was some kind of childish charade, the kind men in the office seemed to go in for.

Lonie listened to the Audrey dialling and the phone ringing. He nudged Davy to follow him out into the hall, and leave her to it. They kept walking on into the work’s kitchen. Lonie flicked the kettle on. ‘What do you think?’

‘That’s a difficult one.’ Davy scratched at his chin. ‘But I’d say, offhand, she hates the sight of you.’

‘Ah’m not worried about that. My wife stayed married for me for two years and she hated me even longer. In fact she still hates me. You’d think a person would grow tired of hatin’, but she seems to have a particular gift.’ Lonie began opening and shutting cabinet doors, looking in to see what goodies where available. He settled for an unopened packet of Digestive from the top shelf and brought down a square mug with the word ‘PUB’ embossed in red letters on it. ‘Ah suppose it’s a bit like that Billy Jean King. Some women are good at tennis and some women are good at other things.’ He opened a box of t-bags and stuck one in the cup. ‘You want tea? Lonie turned towards Davy standing guard at the door.

‘Nah, I’ve been drinking coffee all night.’

Lonie yawned. ‘Ah’m not worried about her hatin’ me. Ah’m worried about her working with me. Whit do you think?’

Davy’s neck and head jerked sideways towards the corridor, a sign to show somebody was coming. Lonie quickly put the mug with the t-bag into the sink, his hand perched on the cold-water tap. But it was only a sale’s girl and her footstep’s faded as she made her way towards the lounge.

Davy leaned against the door jamb and made himself comfortable with a Silk Cut. ‘She’s a smart girl.’ He considered this with smoke rising up into his eyes. ‘Well educated.’ He looked at Lonie. ‘That can sometimes be a drawback in our game.’ He made smoke rings of this pronouncement. ‘I think your hard work, but my opinion, for what it’s worth, is that she’s daft enough to work with you and smart enough to know she’s not really got any other option.’

Lonnie opened and shut the last of the cupboard doors with a banana in his hand. ‘Do you no' think people are gettin’ real mean minded in here; a'y tryin’ to hide things. Somebody’s set up a wee tepee made out of paper tissues to hide a banana. How mean- minded is that?’ Lonie peeled the banana. ‘Ah don’t even like bananas, but Ah’m eating it as a protest against mean- mindedness.’

Davy signalled there was somebody coming. Lonie wiped at his mouth, dropping the half-eaten banana in the bin. ‘It’s alright,’ he said. ‘It’s only Audrey.’

Lonie picked the banana out of the bin and peeled away the uneaten part, stuffing it into his mouth. Davy moved aside to let Audrey into the kitchen, but she hovered near the door beside him.

‘I think I owe you an apology,’ she said to Lonie.

Lonie leaned against the back window, his fingers laced round his mug of tea. ‘It’s ok. Ah’m used to being treated like a dog. Me and Davy were just discussing that. Weren’t we Davy?’

Davy’s mouth made a bugling pout as he considered. ‘Not that I can remember. We were just discussing your marriage.’

‘You’re married?’ Audrey’s eyes widened and she stood up straighter as if on parade.

Lonie stumbled forward. ‘Whit do yeh expect, Ah’m a good lookin’ guy?’

‘I expected you to mention it, when, you know?’ Heat crept into Audrey’s cheeks. She ducked her head down into her shoulders to hide it.

Davy held his hand up. ‘Don’t be stupid. He’s blathering. He’s divorced. No sane woman could put up with him.’

‘Her loss. Your gain.’ Lonie tried to make light of it. ‘So how did you get on with the Cardinal?’ he asked, putting the mug down on the work unit and changing the subject.

Audrey’s face rapidly lost its pink hue. ‘I was pleasantly surprised. He was really, really nice. He seemed genuinely interested and asked me lots of questions about myself.’ Her face grew animated and she smiled. ‘He asked lots of questions about you too Lonie.’

‘Did he indeed,’ said Davy.

‘See, everybody loves me.’ Lonie watched her face. There wasn’t the hint of a smile. ‘So what did you pair of lovebirds find out yesterday?’

‘Phew,’ Davy blew his cheeks out. ‘Nothing much. We couldn’t pick up any patterns. Her victims were all working class boys between.’ He held his hand up. ‘Alleged victims. Anyway, they were all much the same age. All working class, apart from one boy from Bearsden.’

‘Who interviewed the parents?’ Lonie asked.

‘Mullan.’ Davy shook his head.

‘Where’s Mullan now?’ Audrey had picked up that Davy and Lonie both knew something about Mullan, but she didn’t know what.

‘Dead,’ said Davy.

‘Dead,’ said Lonie at the same time.

‘What did he die of?’

‘Och, nothing much.’ Davy looked across to Lonie. ‘Bit of an alky.’

‘So there was nothing sinister?’ Audrey’s voice was clear as a judge.

Lonie shrugged. Davy shrugged back at him. They’d come to an unspoken agreement. Davy screwed up his face, as if it pained him, but it was Lonie who spoke for both of them. ‘Mullan was a good reporter. Everything about him was sinister. The only thing not sinister about him was he died of natural causes.’

Audrey decided that it was safe to leave the subject of Mullan, but she’d one more question, ‘did he ever meet Carol Peters?’

Audrey and Lonie looked towards Davy as the expert in these matters.

‘He might have.’ Davy tugged at his ear lobe, as if that would help him remember. ‘Most of the police liked him, because he bought them lots of drink.’ He looked at Lonie to see if he understood. He nodded, for him to continue. ‘He might have got to speak to her in the cells below the Old High Court. Him and the old gaoler Deeney were drinking buddies in the Piano Bar in High Street.’

‘Did he say anything about it?’ Audrey asked.

‘Wouldn’t think so.’ Davy scratched at his hand. ‘He was old school.’

‘Wouldn’t tell you if shite was running down your leg,’ Lonnie cut in, trying to explain what old school meant.

‘Charming,’ said Audrey, with her nose tilted upwards.

‘I can remember one thing.’ Davy’s eyes screwed up as he looked at Audrey and Lonie, ‘he didn’t scare easy, but was really scared after his alleged meeting with Carol Peters. And he’d a long meeting with the fatman afterwards.’ His arms shot out and his hands came into play as he explained. ‘The fatman, of course wasn’t fat then, he was quite thin and he was only a reporter like the rest of us.’

‘Only thinner?’ said Lonie helpfully. ‘So the fatman was the thin man reincarnated and only he knows what scared Mullan?’

‘That about sums it up,’ said Davy.

Audrey still felt she was missing something. ‘So should we ask Mr McDonald what Mullan said to him?’

Davy snorted, chocking down a laugh.

‘Will we fuck,’ said Lonie, ‘Ah’d rather ask Mullan and he’s been dead for ten years.’

‘Well,’ said Davy more affably, ‘the fatman’s old school too. If you ask him what time it is, he’ll give you two different times and throw in a third to see which one suits you. And he’ll be watching you all the time.’