Truth Lies Waiting (Davy Johnson Series Book 1) (18 page)

Marcus
turns his attention back to me: ‘Me fin’ out who did dis ting de night you tol’
me about it.’ he begins, ‘Me took a cyall from Mickey Plastic an’‘im hoffer me
fifty per cent o’ de stolen cyash as a mark of respec’.’

My
head is reeling: ‘Wha-’

Marcus
holds up his hand to silence me. ‘Me not finish yet.’ He says sternly. ‘Him
talk about de recession, about de internet an’ payday loan firms stealin’ ‘im
clients,’

‘So,
what do you care?’ I say impatiently.

‘Where
d’ya tink ‘im get de money to lend out in de firss’ place?’

The
penny drops.

‘So
you lend him the money he loans out to poor suckers like me. Only if he has no
one to lend it to he doesn’t make any money, and if he’s not making money he
can’t pay you back.’

Marcus
nods.

‘De
misstek him make is stealing on my turf, and we’re workin’ on dat.’ Marcus
catches Barrington’s eye in the rear-view mirror and with a shudder I wonder
where Devlin and his machete is.

‘He
wasn’t working alone!’ I remind them, ‘he had a sidekick.’

Marcus
nods. ‘Him son was der.’

‘You’re
shitting me!’ I gasp, ‘Dim looking scrote, always on a bike?’

Marcus
nods again.

‘He’s
only a kid!’ I say in wonder but then I remember Candy saying that one of the
robbers was much younger than the other. It stands to reason Mickey’d use his
own son. Keep it in the family.

‘Ting
is, Mickey plans de job, den realise ‘him too old to go tru wid it. ‘him need

someone
wid a bit o muscle.’ Marcus stares at me as through readying himself for my
reaction. I must have really freaked him out that day at the scrapyard.

‘Him
not do de robbery,’ Marcus says slowly, ‘Him get yi mate ti do it.’

I
can count my mates on the fingers of one hand; since I’ve been out of jail I’ve
given every one of them a body swerve. Then it dawns on me.

‘What,’
I laugh, ‘Brad?’

Marcus
nods.

‘No
way!’ I say quickly, ‘No fuckin’ way.’ If it’s possible for both men to look
sorry for me they do it now, their faces a combination of pity and curiosity.
When I first approached Marcus I’d wanted revenge, but then I hadn’t expected
one of the robbers to be someone I know, or more importantly someone who’s been
looking out for me the last couple of days. And why exactly is that, I wonder?
What’s in it for him? It explains why Marcus was off with Brad earlier today,
and it also tells me why Brad was keen for me to put off speaking to Marcus and
call Candy instead.

‘OK.’
I say aloud, even though that’s the opposite of what I’m feeling. I feel as
though I’ve been kicked in the teeth. Then I think about it.

‘The
wee fuckin’ shite.’ I say to no one in particular.

‘Yi
want me deal wid ‘im?’ Marcus asks. By deal with him he means tie him in duct
tape and throw him off the Forth Road Bridge but I don’t know what I want any
more. I need time to take this in. I shake my head as I stumble out of the car.

I
let myself into the townhouse and climb the stairs to my room. I stand in the
doorway surveying the empty takeaway cartons and upturned boxes that represent
the sum total of my life. When I got out of prison I swore I would make a real
go of things, be someone my family could be proud of; surround myself with
people who gave a damn. Yet here I am, on my own and on the run for murder.
Jude always said it was wrong to look back. Spend too long staring in that rear
view mirror and you’ll miss what’s right in front of you. I know she’s right, I
know that, but now that she’s gone I feel like a kite cut loose from its
string. I wish I could turn the clock back, go back to a time when I felt safe;
with a thud I realise there wasn’t one.

I
watched a documentary once, one of those catch it, kill it, eat it food
programmes tracking the journey meat makes from pasture to plate. A farmer’s
wife had slaughtered a chicken, cut off its head with a cleaver, yet for
several moments it had continued to run around the yard like nothing had happened.
Minus its head of course. That was what I feel like right now.

A
headless chicken.

I
think about making myself something to eat but can’t face another Pot Noodle. I
make a roll up instead, lighting it as I plan my conversation with Candy. To
say it’s going to be tricky is an understatement, that’s assuming she even
wants to talk to me. I try to put myself in her shoes, hooking up with some guy
fresh out of jail who instead of knocking on her door sends her a covert mobile
so the police can’t trace his calls. It’s hardly going to instil her with
confidence, is it?

My
phone beeps signalling the arrival of a text. I tap on the screen to open it:

Davy its Brad mate.
Am outside. Can I come up?

I’d
left the door unlocked. Brad texting me is his way of testing my mood.

I
type one word:

Aye

Might
as well put him out of his misery.

‘Ye bastard!’ I
yell as he appears in the doorway. I’d been rehearsing what to say as I waited
for him to walk up the stairs.

‘Whoa,
Davy wait!’ his hands are up in mitigation, he’s walking toward me like this is
something we can resolve
like adults.
‘Let me expl-’

‘Fuck
off with your excuses!’ I spit, swatting his hands away, yet even as I’m doing this
I know it matters that he came back, that he didn’t bail on me because he
couldn’t face the row. It feels disloyal to Candy but there’s a part of me that
respects the fact he’s standing here, but there’s another part that wishes I
was five stone heavier so that my anger actually scares him. At best we both
know this is the equivalent of a toddler’s tantrum.

‘You
absolute bastard!’ I want to hit him but am aware my hand’ll come off worse.

‘I
thought you were a mate!’ I’m still shouting, but I don’t have the stomach for
it. I feel foolish, allowing myself to be duped by a local schemie.

Brad
tries approaching me once more: ‘I didnae know she was your bird!’ he pleads,
‘How the fuck could I o’ known back then?’

I
stay silent; I want to see where he goes with this.

‘Look,
I was desperate for money!’ His eyes are wild like it really matters what I
think of him, ‘My wife left me while I was inside and there’s a bairn to pay
for. I’d taken out a loan to buy a cot and a pram but then I ended up in jail
and couldn’t pay it back. Things were getting nasty,’ he’s standing in front of
me and his eyes never leave mine.

‘She
was opening letters from the loan company who were threatening to send
bailiffs, I borrowed money from Mickey Plastic to pay off the loan company.
Only thing is he makes up your repayment schedule as he goes along.’

Don’t
I know it. Borrowing money from Mickey hasn’t been the smartest move
I’ve
ever made. I feel some sympathy for Brad but I’m determined not to show it.
‘Then Mickey gave me a call two weeks ago, said he’d write off my debt if I did
a job for him. He told me what he wanted me to do. It was a piece o’ piss: In,
out, money for nothing.’

I
can feel my blood pressure rise: ‘Ye scared ma girlfriend shitless!’

‘I
know that now, but I didnae know she wiz ye bird at the time!’ Brad reasons,
‘Be fair, I didn’t even know
you
properly.’

He
had a point, right enough, but even so. ‘It wiz the fat copper, when he came
into the pub asking questions about you after the prozzies were murdered, he said
you’d gone mental when he lifted you for the robbery, said you were mad enough
to kill, that mebbe they’d wound you up. I felt such a twat that something I’d
done could make you react like that.’

‘But
it didn’t!’

‘I
know that now as well! But then I heard Malkie had been murdered, just after me
hearing Daz arrange to meet him and I knew someone was setting you up. I
thought that mebbe I had a chance to make up for what I’d done. Then when I
find you all you can go on about is what you’re gonna do to the bastard that
robbed the factory and I could hardly own up then, could I?’

‘Fucksake,
Brad.’

I
slump onto the settee, my anger has gone, I hate to admit it but I can see his
point. That’s what makes it worse in a way: finding myself empathising with an
armed robber.

‘Oh,
shit,’ I mutter, putting my head in my hands.

‘What?’
Brad asks.

I
look at my watch: 11.30pm. ‘It’s time for me to ring Candy.’

Brad
wanders off to the other end of the room as I key in her number to give me a
little privacy.

Candy’s
phone rings out several times and I’m about to disconnect when a hesitant voice
answers:

‘Hello?’

‘Hey
Candy….’ I say in relief, ‘you had me going for a minute, I thought you weren’t
going to answer.’

‘I
had to find somewhere where Dad couldn’t listen in; he won’t let me out of his
sight.’ Her voice is low; I picture her looking furtively over her shoulder to
make sure her old man’s out of earshot. ‘I’m not sure which worries him most,’
she continues ‘the fact I was held up by an armed robber or the prospect of me
seeing you again.’

So
she’s not ruled it out then, I think excitedly.

‘Are
ye OK?’ I ask.

‘Yeah,’
she answers softly, ‘Sorry for freaking out like that.’

‘Ye
weren’t freaking out, ye were in shock.’

‘Well,
even so.’

I
laugh with relief that she’s actually on the other end of the line, speaking to
me. Ken, I could kiss you a million times over. Though I’d rather snog Candy.

‘Never
mind me, Davy, how the hell are you? I’m so sorry about your aunt….’

My
throat feels suddenly dry and I know my voice will give out on me if I don’t
change the subject:

‘What
happened to your other phone?’ I croak, ‘I tried calling you.’

‘Dad
took it.’ She sounds embarrassed, ‘Didn’t like the idea of you trying to
contact me.’

That
figures.

‘S’OK,’
I reassure her, ‘Don’t worry about it. He’s entitled to his opinion.’

‘Only
it’s not just his opinion any more Davy, is it?’ Candy states matter of factly.

The
way she says that makes my spine tingle.

‘Not
you as well!’ I blurt out. ‘I didn’t kill them, Candy!’

It’s
hard to conceal the anger in my voice but I’m trying really hard. Brad, at the
other end of the room had been minding his own business during my conversation
but he’s openly listening now.

Candy
says nothing.

‘Christsake
Candy!’ I say, annoyed as hell, ‘Ye’ve got to believe me!’

‘I
don’t know what to believe.’ Candy says carefully. ‘The police have been round

here-’

‘-I
bet they have!’

I’m
shouting now but I can’t believe she’s taking their word against mine. Brad
casts worried glances in my direction. ‘Davy, calm down.’ He signals across the
room but how can I calm down when I’m listening to the extent MacIntyre has
gone to, to cast doubt in Candy’s mind?

‘The
police came round to tell me they’d arrested a suspect for the robbery,’ Candy
informs me. ‘They asked me if I knew you, and it didn’t take much to put two
and two together.’

‘Well
thanks for that!’

‘I
didn’t mean it like that!’ She snaps defensively, ‘But, anyway, what am I
supposed to think when they turn up at my door?’

‘How
many came round?’ I ask.

‘What?’

‘How
many cops came round?’

A
pause. ‘Two.’

‘Are
ye sure?’

‘What
d’you mean?’

‘How
many actually came into the house?’

Another
pause. ‘Just one I think…..The other one stayed in the car.’

‘Ye
sure?’

‘I’m
positive,’ she snaps, ‘why?’

‘Ye
know they’re not supposed to do that, don’t ye?

‘What
are you talking about?’

‘When
they come round to your house to speak to ye, they shouldn’t come in on their
own as they can’t corroborate anything that’s said.’

‘But
I didn’t say anything Davy!’

‘Ye
sure about that?’

A
sigh. ‘Christ, Davy, you’re not making any sense!

‘A
cop comes to see ye and tells ye they’ve arrested someone for the robbery and
Oh,
by the way, what do ye know about Davy Johnson?
You MUST’VE fuckin’ SAID
SOMETHING!’

I
can’t believe I actually just yelled at her.

Silence.

‘I
told him that I didn’t think that was possible you’d do something like that,
besides, I’d have recognised your voice. I know you weren’t involved, Davy.’

‘Right!
See! That’s the problem. Did he write that down?’

‘No.’

‘I
bet he didn’t! And with no one to corroborate what you told him do you think
he’ll climb back into his car and tell his mate that’s what you said?’

‘I
dunno.’ She says uncertainly.

‘Come
off it Candy, the answer’s NO! He fuckin’ won’t.

More
silence.

‘This
copper,’ I prompt, ‘what was he like?’

A
pause, ‘I dunno….I didn’t pay him any mind really, you just look at the uniform
don’t you-?

‘-think!’
I interrupt, ‘this is important!’

Another
sigh, ‘quite stocky, I suppose. He seemed nice. He got on alright with Dad.’

No
surprise there.

‘And
the other copper, the one who stayed in the car?’

‘Couldn’t
really see him.’

‘This
nice
copper,’ I say sarcastically, ‘did he bother coming round again to
tell you I’d been released, that they weren’t charging me with anything as
there wasn’t anything to charge me with?’

‘No,’
Candy concedes, ‘but I already knew it wasn’t you, didn’t I? Anyway, have you
heard anything about who
did
do it Davy? It would be a help knowing who
they are at least.’

‘No.’
I lie, glaring at Brad.

‘Listen,
the same policeman did come round after your aunt and her friends had been
murdered – and Davy, I’m so sorry about that-’ Candy’s the only person so far
who has referred to the twins as Jude’s friends rather than lumping them
together as prozzies with no other connection to each other than selling sex,
and it makes me fall for her just a little bit more. ‘but next breath he’s
telling us that you’ve gone missing. I mean, it doesn’t look good does it?’

‘And
he was on his own again?’

‘No!...well,
yeah, I suppose, if you mean did his partner stay in the car…’

‘Candy,
that’s the cop who hates me. The one I told you about. He’s fitting me up, it’s
him that’s-’

‘SHUT
IT DAVY!’ Brad lunges towards me waving frantically, making slicing signs with
his hand across his neck. I move the phone away from my mouth, ‘
What?
’ I
snap at him.

‘
Dinnea
go telling her something that’s gonnae put her in danger ye fuckwit!
’ he
hisses.

Shit.

‘Davy,
what did you say? Who’s there with you?’

‘No-one.’
The second lie I’ve told her in ten minutes. ‘It doesn’t matter, OK?’

Her
sigh tells me she doesn’t believe me. I close my eyes and rub my hand across my
jawline; I can’t remember when I last had a shave.

‘Look,
Candy, I’m sorry if I snapped at ye.’

‘If!’

‘I
just need ye to know that I haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘Where
are you?’

‘I
can’t tell ye that.’

‘Aw,
Christ, Davy!’ Then, ‘Can’t you hand yourself in?’

‘Ye
haven’t been listening to a word I’ve just said!’ I snap, ‘That bastard is
fitting me up, can ye no’ just accept that? Ye think I can walk into the cop
shop and tell his mates he’s bent? Ye think they’ll listen? DO YE ACTUALLY
BELIEVE THAT?’ I yell at her.

‘DO
YE?’

The
phone line goes dead in my hand.

‘That
went well.’ Brad observes grimly.

‘Shit.’
I say aloud. If I’d had to describe the exact opposite of how I’d wanted our
conversation to go that was it. I bang my fist against the wall in frustration.

‘This
is all your fault.’ I sneer at Brad.

‘How?’
he fires back, his face a picture of hurt. ‘Ye canny blame me for the fact ye
bird’s wishin’ she was seein’ the school chess club champion rather than some
on the run scally outta Saughton.’

I
look at him suspiciously. ‘Ye had a chess club at your school?’ I say, ‘I’m
surprised ye even know what it is.’

‘Listen
Shit fe Brains,’ he says defensively, ‘I know it’s a board game even if I don’t
know how ye fuckin’ play it. Point is none o’ them guys would be giving her
this grief. She’d be getting candle lit dinners then back to their pad on the
waterfront by now.’

I
study Brad to see if he’s trying to wind me up or he really is that tactless.
His overgrown baby-head gives nothing away. I must look depressed because he
laughs self-consciously then punches me on the arm.

‘I’ll
go and get some cans,’ he says magnanimously, ‘we can stay up till the early
hours getting hammered.’

It’s
the most sensible thing he’s said all evening so I nod, feeling around in my
pocket to give him some cash. ‘Nah, mate,’ he says, waving my hand away, ‘this
is on me.’

‘So
it should be.’ I grumble.

Fuckin’
chess club. There was nothing like that at Park View. Pupils weren’t allowed
anything that could be used as a weapon and small pieces of rock could trigger
a lunchtime massacre if the staff weren’t vigilant. Even the playground supervisor
wore a stab vest.

Brad’s
not been gone five minutes when my mobile rings. Thinking he’s ringing to check
what I want I speak without checking the screen:

‘Can
ye not pick up a beer without me holding ye hand now?’ I joke.

‘Have
ye no’ heard?’ Ken asks urgently, his tone erasing the smile from my face.