Glasgow Noir Box Set by Gavin Graham

Author:Gavin Graham [Graham, Gavin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781070467849
Publisher: Mad Skull Publishing House
Published: 2019-07-31T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 39

The Oracle

The spectre of the dead can be a determined breed, sometimes.

Here she was, again, watching him from behind the restaurant window. It was sprayed with an artificial snow that fell short of being particularly warm or festive. She stood out on the slushy Glasgow pavement, invisible to those who passed her.

She wore her favourite bathrobe, the pink one. He had given it to her as a Christmas gift, many years ago. It was the one they had found her in, that day, when she killed herself.

She held a hand up, an open palm, like she wanted to wave but didn’t have the energy.

Her lips were poised for speech, frozen, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Her shadowy face was white with murky accentuations of blistered blue. A faint, morbid and mottled face; a bleak expression of broken-heartedness in the next dimension. Her dead, taunting eyes were black and swollen, like those of a snake…

“Are you OK, Mac? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Professor Sinclair asked his haunted, sober friend. He saw that he had come over pale, suddenly, and had that all-to-familiar look in his eyes.

One of confusion, desperation and fear.

Grief.

“Sorry, that was a bad choice of words.”

“No, no, you’re alright,” he shook it off, eternally grateful to the pompous Professor for his friendship and understanding. After all, most people would think he was a raving lunatic if they knew that he was regularly visited by the spectre of a dead woman. The one he had just seen out there, standing on the street.

His wife, Mary.

It had all gone downhill after the tragic passing of their son, Robbie, who died after a night out at The Tunnel nightclub in the city centre. A regular night of drinking and dancing with his Uni pals had ended up with some bright spark suggesting they pop a few ecstasy pills and go back to the student digs for an ‘all-nighter’. Robbie had taken a bad turn and they rushed him off to the infirmary.

He died in the ambulance.

Mary hadn’t coped very well and tried to block out the reality of their predicament with a constant intake of gin and sleeping pills. Within a month, his wife had killed herself in a massive overdose, leaving Mac alone to do what he did best - drinking and hunting murderers.

She was gone, but her spirit was surely stuck in no-man’s land, caught up somewhere between the living and the dead.

“How’s your daughter Mac, the beautiful young Marie?” it was a subtle attempt to change his course of thought, onto the living and away from the dead.

“Alistair, what are you doing?” Mac avoided the question and chuckled away in bemusement.

“What?”

“With that bread, that little mixture of oil and vinegar you’ve got there, do they not have any butter in this place?”

“It’s a Mediterranean alternative Mac, much healthier. Give it a try, you might like it. And, more importantly, you might live longer,” explained the Professor, sipping an overly-priced glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

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