Truth Lies Waiting (Davy Johnson Series Book 1) (29 page)

‘Aye!’
I tell her impatiently, ‘his tenants said he was a cop!’

‘OK…’
Tanya pauses, as though trying to get it right in her own head, ‘so this man’s
holding you accountable for your father’s actions.’

I
nod again, ‘Bit extreme though, eh?’

‘But
if that is the case, Davy, who knows what he’ll stop at?’

‘Finally!’
I roll my eyes but Tanya is oblivious. She stares right at me, her face creased
in concern. ‘Davy, what’s to stop him coming after you?’ She asks, ‘If he’s
hell bent on exacting revenge for his girlfriend then neither of us can predict
how far he’ll take it.’

‘I
know, but I can hardly call the cops for help, can I?’

‘What
about Gus then, you obviously know him; surely he’d be a good person to get on
side? He seems to cast a long shadow.’ Tanya says meaningfully.

‘That
was why he helped me tae come here, tae find out the truth about my past.’

‘Do
you think he knew?’

I
shrug. ‘I don’t know. It was a long time back. Even so, it changes nothing;
I’ve still got a mad bastard on ma tail, only difference now is I know why he’s
doing it.’

‘Still
doesn’t explain his timing.’ Tanya says, ‘I mean, after all these years, why
dredge up old grudges now?’

‘He
could hardly come after a bairn,’ I laugh, ‘maybe he just thought I was fair
game now.’

‘Possibly,’
Tanya concedes, but I can tell she’s not convinced. We sit in silence for a
moment, considering the question.

‘Mebbe
he kept his anger in check all these years then seeing me going about the place
tipped him over the edge.’ I suggest.

‘Hmm.’
Tanya acknowledges. ‘Or you became a threat.’

‘What
d’ye mean?’

‘Given
your relationship – as you say he’s had it in for you for a long time – do you
think you could have said or done anything to him to make him feel threatened
in some way?’

‘What,
threatened enough to kill my auntie and her mates, get real!’

‘I’m
sorry,’ Tanya agrees, ‘I see your point.’

‘He’s
always hated me right enough,’ I concede, ‘I mean, he could never leave me
alone. If I was out with friends it would be me that he’d stop and get to empty
my pockets. I could be minding my own business and it’s like even that wasn’t
good enough, he had to let me know he was around.’

Tanya
nods. ‘Then without warning he becomes the very thing he hates most of all – a
killer, like your father.’

Something
flickers at the back of my mind. ‘Look, this is probably nothing,’ I begin,
‘but he caught me watching him once, when I started work in a café after he got
me sacked from Swanson’s factory. He was coming out of the betting shop next
door and when he looked in through the café window he saw me. I was bricking
it, I thought he was going to come storming in and find something to have a go
at me for but instead he gawped right back at me, scared out of his wits. He
couldn’t get away fast enough.’

Tanya
leans forward: ‘Any idea why that would be?’

I
shake my head. ‘I thought it was the fellas I was serving at the time, they
weren’t locals, they were wearing suits.’

‘So?’

‘I
shrug, ‘I thought that mebbe they were big names looking at moving into the
area, someone who he knew from the past.’ My stomach turns over as I say this,
like when you’ve been caught smoking at school and get sent to the head or when
the girl you really fancy smiles at you. Anxiety or excitement I can’t be sure
but something’s jangling my nerves.

‘But
you don’t think it was them, now?’ Tanya prompts.

‘I
don’t know,’ I say truthfully, ‘I mean, he’s a no-mark plod, why should he know
movers and shakers belonging to out of town gangs? But if it wasn’t them that
spooked him it had to be me and that wouldn’t be right at all.’

‘Why
not?’

‘It
was like he’d seen a ghost, yet he sees me all the time.’

Tanya
looks at her watch and sighs. ‘I was supposed to be going out for dinner this
evening…..’ I stare at the side of her face as she wrestles with her
conscience. She turns towards me and sighs: ‘Fine,’ she smiles eventually,
‘I’ll make a few calls, see if I can corroborate what you’ve been told
regarding the ownership of the house where Sonia was murdered. In the meantime
I’ll check with the team looking after your father to see if he is willing to
see you again.’ She pauses. ‘But it’s his choice Davy, if he won’t see you
nothing you say will make me go against that…though I suppose at least this
time you have specific questions to ask.’

I
furrow my brow. ‘Do I?’

‘Of
course! Your mother can only tell you what she’d been told at the time, her
information is second hand. The only person who was actually there was your
father.’

‘And
me.’ I say quietly.

Tanya’s brought me
back to reception while she goes off to make her calls. There’s a different
woman behind the reception desk, but I can tell she knows who I am by the way
she keeps looking over at me suspiciously. Patience must’ve finished her shift,
that or been sent home early I suppose. This woman is younger and slimmer but
there’s a hardness about her that lets you know she’s having none of it. If
she’d been on duty earlier my hair would be a tarry smear by now. Tanya had
asked her to fetch me a coffee but it’s yet to materialise and I’d rather go
thirsty than remind her.

My
phone vibrates in my pocket telling me I’ve got an incoming text. The screen
tells me it’s from Brad:

Tryin to get lifted
or what? Everyones sayin u went hame u mad wee shite!

I
type a reply:

Had to. Found out
something massive. Get Ken to pick me up from clinic in an hour.

I
glance up to see Tanya standing by the reception desk beckoning me to follow
her. Her face is animated, but I can’t work out whether that’s good or bad.

‘I
spoke to a friend of mine who’s a journalist.’ She says quickly, ‘well she used
to be before she had kids but she still has contacts around the city. She put a
call through to the Registers of Scotland, Sonia Reevie bought her home under
the Council’s Right to Buy scheme in ‘84; put the deeds into joint names so the
property passed to her partner when she died.’ Tanya studies me.

‘It
seems you are right, her partner’s name was John MacIntyre. My friend had been
a junior reporter at the time and she remembers he’d been away at Tulliallen –
the police training college – when the affair started.’

I
blow air out through my cheeks. ‘My dad was some boy.’ I sigh.

‘Try
not to be too judgemental.’ Tanya warns me.

‘What
do you mean?’

Tanya
smiles, ‘He’s willing to see you.’

We’re
in a room set aside for visitors. Only close relatives or friends can visit
with patients in their rooms the lead nurse tells me and he hasn’t decided
whether I’m friend or foe. ‘Your father needs to feel he’s in a place of
safety,’ he explains, adding ‘the room is by the Nurses’ Station so we can keep
an eye on how you’re both getting along.’

I
don’t much like the idea of someone keeping watch on us but I’m in no position
to argue. I nod gratefully, trying not to get my hopes up as I wait for Dad to
be brought through. The room is large and bright with two cloth sofas facing
each other and a low formica coffee table which when I try to push to one side
discover is nailed to the floor. ‘For the visitors’ safety.’ the nurse adds
matter of factly making me remember I’m visiting a convicted killer in a
madhouse.

When
Dad enters the room I am struck by two things: that he is walking unaccompanied
- the last time I saw him he was being helped across the lawn by two nurses.
Instead he walks confidently towards me, stopping in front of my chair with his
arms outstretched. I stand, allowing myself to be bear hugged but unsure
whether to do anything back. I have little experience to go off, my memories of
him are when I was wee and my friends’ dads are either dead or inside. I have
no terms of reference on how to relate physically to him, so I stand there,
counting down from twenty in my head.

My
second thought is how similar we look. I mean,
really
similar, to the
point it’s no wonder MacIntyre hates me. I must be a permanent reminder of what
Dad took away from him. When he saw me in Tam’s café after calling into the
betting shop he must have seen it too. The likeness around the eyes and nose,
the familiar set of our jaw. That could maybe explain the look on his face, the
look that said he’d seen a ghost.

Except
this ghost was very much alive locked up in the nut-house.

‘I’m
sorry.’ I tell him as we sit down beside one another. Dad lifts his feet and
places them on top of the coffee table like a footstool and I do the same. We
could be like any father and son hanging out together in those American films,
and the thought makes me smile.

‘Ye
don’t look sorry.’ Dad responds but he’s not having a go, he doesn’t seem able
to snipe or take the piss, just state things as they are. Or as he sees them,
only I’m not sure that’s one and the same.

‘I
am,’ I tell him honestly, ‘when I came here earlier today I was angry, I admit
that, but I didn’t mean to do anything that would set ye back.’

Dad
tips his head back and laughs, ‘you’ve been paying too much attention to what
that lot have been saying haven’t ye?’ he asks, ‘I mean, it’s all about
perspective. I’ve been sentenced to stay here for the rest of my life, or at
least until I am deemed to be ‘normal’ so that I can be shipped off to Shotts
with the regular killers. How appealing is that, do ye think?’

I
shrug my shoulders, ‘not much.’

‘So
ye can see that any ‘setback’,’ he sums up, ‘is hardly a hardship in my book.’

I
take his point.

‘I’ve
spoken to Mum.’ I tell him, eager for him to confirm what I’ve learned.

‘Go
on,’ he encourages, raising his eyebrows just a little.

‘She
says ye got her off smack.’

He
nods slowly. ‘Aye, she was in a bad way when we met.’

‘But
ye helped her.’

Dad
shrugs. ‘I loved her,’ he says simply, ‘not like I had any choice in the
matter.’

‘Then
it all changed,’ I state.

‘Like
a lot o’ things.’ He agrees. ‘Look Davy, something I’ve learned while I’ve been
in here is that looking back all the time isn’t good for ye. Ye have to keep
looking forward. I’m not proud o’ the fact I stopped loving your mum and I’m
even less proud that instead of leaving I was unfaithful.’

‘Mum
reckons she was hard to live with….says she had a couple of relapses that made
her push you away,’

Dad’s
eyes widen in surprise, ‘Christ, she
has
opened up to ye. How did ye
make her do that?’ he asks in admiration.

‘I
think she would see it more as being backed into a corner.’ I tell him
honestly. ‘It wasn’t pretty.’

Dad’s
face becomes serious. ‘Don’t fall out with her son,’ he cautions, ‘she’s a
different woman from the one than I met back then so you can’t blame her for
not being nostalgic.’

‘Right
enough.’ I concede. Then, ‘She says ye must have really loved Sonia.’

Dad’s
eyes flash with anger. ‘Why, because I killed her?’

‘I
don’t think she meant it like that,’ I say weakly, though it does sound like
that.

‘Listen,’
he says angrily, ‘she’s right in that I did love Sonia,’ he looks away,
thoughtful, ‘but love is wanting the best for someone no matter how that turns
out for ye. Not wiping out all trace of them to settle a score.’

I
get it. ‘It’s OK,’ I tell him, ‘I’m not about to go following in your footsteps
if that’s what you’re worried about.’

For
a moment he looks at me confused, his forehead creases as though he’s
concentrating very hard on what I’ve said. ‘Talking about what ye did won’t
turn me into a killer,’ I say to him. ‘Don’t worry on that score. I just need
some answers.’

Dad
nods, but the stoop in his shoulders tell me how difficult this is.

‘I
know I was there, Dad.’

He
looks genuinely shocked. ‘Let it lie, Davy.’ He says sharply.

I
wasn’t expecting that. ‘What do ye mean?’

‘Jist
leave it, eh? What can come from dredging up the past? Ye come in here wanting
answers but there’s nothing to tell. I did what I did and I’m paying the
fuckin’ price, eh, what more do ye want?’

‘I
remember Sonia.’ I persist. ‘She was kind to me; she taught me how to do
multiplication.’

Dad
looks confused.

‘It’s
how I make sense of things,’ I tell him, ‘by counting them…gives me something
to focus on. I must have got that from her.’

‘She
thought the world of ye, she did.’ He smiles, ‘She felt sorry for ye I reckon,
I mean, me and your mum were hardly model parents and me bringing ye tae
Sonia’s house as an alibi put you right up there with Bambi as a soft wee shite
needing a bit o’ love and attention.’

‘She
still went upstairs and fucked ye though.’ I remind him and he has the grace to
blush. ‘Sorry,’ I add quickly, ‘I’m not here to point any fingers, honestly.’

He
shrugs,
whatever.

‘I
went to her house today, Dad.’

Dad
groans. ‘Aw, fucksake Davy, what did ye go and do that for?’

‘I
wanted to see where it happened.’

He
is silent now. Waiting.

‘I
remember running upstairs. There’d been shouting. But it wasn’t the shouting
that worried me; I mean that was normal in our house wasn’t it? It was the
quiet afterwards that scared me.’

‘Aw,
Davy.’

‘I
remember seeing her lying on the bed.’

Sonia
was still. She didn’t turn when I called her name. I thought she was cross with
me.

‘It’s
in the past, son.’

‘I
saw ye.’

Running
down the stairs, too scared to look back.

‘I
saw
ye.’

Please
Daddy no! Don’t make me go in there.

‘What’s
done is done, Davy.’

‘I
saw the look on your face.’

‘It
was shock, Son.’

Then
I hear her voice:

‘Davy!
Come and have a look at this! You can do the nine times table on your hands,
did you know that’ We’re sitting at the wooden dining table. Dad’s in the
kitchen opening a couple of beers. ‘Here, let me show you’. Sonia moves behind
me and slips her arms through mine so she can spread her hands wide on the table
top. She folds the little finger on her left hand into her palm. ‘You can work
the answers out on your fingers. Watch this...’

‘One
nine is…’

I
count her remaining fingers. ‘Nine!’ I say.

She
unfolds her little finger and this time folds down the second finger on her
left hand. ‘Two nines are...’ she tells me what to do: ‘count my fingers either
side of the finger that’s folded down.’ I do as I’m told.

‘One,’
I say, ‘and eight’.

‘And
what number does that make?’

‘Eighteen.’
I grin.

‘Clever
boy!’ Dad is standing in the doorway watching us. He never calls me anything
like that at home. I beam at him but he’s looking at Sonia, holding out a can
to her. Sonia ruffles my hair before moving to Dad’s side.

‘Now
you go work out the other numbers Davy, have the answers ready for when I come
back.’

I
don’t mind Dad going upstairs with her; he’s always in a good mood when he
comes down. I carry on working out the sums with my hands, writing the answer
down on the pad Sonia left me. I’m halfway through when I hear what sounds like
a key turning in a lock. I’ve nearly finished by the time the shouting starts.

‘Davy,
what is it?’ Dad’s voice jolts me back to the present. He’s looking at me oddly
as though something has put the frighteners up him.

‘I
saw ye, Dad.’ I repeat, only this time I get what it means.

‘Ye
didn’t kill her, did ye?’

He
doesn’t need to answer; the look on his face says we both know the truth of it.