Ripped (114 page)

By
contrast,
Murray
had
forgotten
how
small
Heathers
was.

Red
in
the
cheeks
as
if
he
had
been
treating
himself
as
part
of
his
celebration,
the
little
man
swayed
heel-and-toe
in
front
of
a
log
fire.

'You're
a
silly
bloody
man,'
he
said.
'I've
been
talking
money
the
last
four
days
like
telephone
numbers.
I'm
a
one
man
fucking
solution
to
the
unemployment
problem.
I've
got
a
crowd
of
hangers
on
waiting
to
suck
my
arse.
And
then
I've
got
you.
What
the
hell
do
you
think
you're
playing
at
coming
here?'

The
flush
on
his
cheeks
heightened
dangerously,
giving
him the
look
of
a
man
preparing
to
have
his
first
stroke.

'Can
I
talk
to
you
alone?'
Murray
asked.

The
heavy
squad
had
stayed
outside,
but
Eddy
Stewart
had
come
in
with
him
and
stood
to
one
side
watching.
There
was
a
television
set
behind
Heathers
and
he
turned
to
the
tray
set
on
top
of
it
and
half
-
filled
a
whisky
tumbler.

'You
must
think
I'm
stupid,'
he
said.

From
the
depths
of
one
of
the
three
leather
armchairs
grouped
round
the
fire,
there
came
a
snicker
and
Murray
realised
a
man
was
slumped
there.
Although
the
sound
had
been
turned
off,
the
cassette
film
was
still
showing
so
that
it
was
uncertain
whether
the
man
had
been
amused
by
Heathers
or
by
some
complication
in
the
tangle
of
naked
bodies
on
the
screen.

'Go
back
to
sleep,
Peter,'
Heathers
said.
'You're
drunk'

'Never,
sir.'
The
man
reared
up
and
showed
them
a
fine
head
with
a
large
nose.
'Not
the
sex
to
get
drunk.
Testosterone
has
target
organs
other
than
the
testes.
One
of
them
being
the
kidney
where
it
induces
the
production
of
alcohol
dehydrogenase.
Now since
that
breaks
down
alcohol
in
the
body
and
since
women
don't,
not
yet
at
least,
not
quite
yet,
thank
God,
have
any
balls
to
speak
of
–
I
can
handle
my
drink
like
a
gentleman
and
they
can't
.
'

He
said
all
this
quickly
and
fluently
in
a
voice
that
was
deep,
unslurred
and
authoritative.
Finished,
he
blinked
once
or
twice
and
gave
an
enormous
yawn.
Clearly
he
was
very
drunk.

'Aye,
and
I
can
say
"the
Leith
bloody
police
dismisseth
us",'
Heathers
said
indulgently
.
'Go
back
to
sleep.'
Drinking,
he
studied
Murray
over
the
tumbler's
rim.
'You
wouldn't
be
planning
to
do
anything
silly,
would
you?
I
had
to
pay
for
a
new
set
of
bridgework
for
Denny
after
you
smashed
his
face.'

'Denny?'
Murray
asked,
genuinely
puzzled.
'My
chauffeur.
I
reckoned
that
left
us
square.'

The
pain
at
the
base
of
Murray's
skull
flared
and
settled.

'I
just
want
to
talk,'
he
said,
'but
not
with
him
here.'
He
nodded
towards
Eddy
Stewart.

'You
can
say
anything
in
front
of
Eddy.'
Heathers'
tone
was
matter
of
fact.

'Policemen
are
funny
people,'
Murray
said.
'You
can't
trust
them
–
not
even
to
stay
bent.'

He
heard
Stewart
curse
softly,
but
kept
his
eyes
on
Heathers, who
chewed
his
lip
and
asked,
'Just
talk?'

'About
a
visitor
you're
expecting.
A
lady
you
invited.'

'Uh
huh
.
..
Look,
Eddy,'
Heathers
said
abruptly
after
a
pause,
'no
use
you
staying
here
to
be
insulted,
eh?
Go
and
have
some
fun.
Find
yourself
a
woman.'

Without
turning
his
head,
Murray
heard
the
door
open
and close.
He
crossed
the
room
and
sat
in
one
of
the
three
chairs
by
the
fire.
It
was
very
comfortable
and
the
leather
felt
slightly
warm
under
his
hand.
In
the
other
chair,
the
man
had
slumped
down
with
his
eyes
shut.

'Can
we
get
rid
of
that
clown
as
well?'

'He's
no
clown!'
In
something
oddly
like
alarm,
Heathers
glanced
down
at
the
man
in
the
chair,
who
licked
his
lips
and
sighed,
settling
down
deeper
still.
'Started
from
nothing
like
me –
I've
known
him
since
we
were
kids.
In
the
medical
world,
he's
a big
man.
He
saved
my
sister's
life.
He's
somebody.
You're
the
fucking
clown.'