Interleaved Lives by Roderick Hart

Author:Roderick Hart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2020-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

18

It can happen that welcome events occur at unwelcome moments. The day following my bizarre interview with MacNeil, I intended to walk to Alison’s house and stand, dripping icicles on her doorstep, like a stray dog hoping to be taken in. Once through the door she would offer me a hot drink, she was a civilised person, and as the drink warmed me, I would warm her with well-chosen words of apology. As a strategy it could hardly fail; whatever happened later we needed to support each other now. The only problem was how to respond if she asked for an assurance that I would stop referring to her in the modest notes I made for myself each day. I had no intention of doing that; she was part of my life. She probably thought she belonged to herself, but in fact she belonged to everyone who knew her. I could always agree to a request to desist but carry on as before. Provided I avoided another stupid mistake she’d be none the wiser; what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

As I considered this, my phone rang. It was not, as I half expected, another case from Albion Assurance. A Mr Davies had found my minimal online presence and wanted to consult me as a matter of urgency. Could he come round? Of course he could, once he knew where.

‘Selwyn Davies.’ He held out a hand, which I shook. ‘I like your site; you’re not one to make inflated claims.’

He took off his hat and laid it on the arm of a chair.

‘I have never played the trumpet.’

Having agreed that I was admirably modest and self-effacing we got to the point.

‘It’s my daughter, Angharad, first year university. She’s moved in with some friends, an HMO in Marchmont. Nice people, as far as I can see. Noisy but nice.’

‘So the problem lies elsewhere.’

‘She’s taken up with an unsavoury character. Don’t know if you’ve come across him in your time with the police. Andy York.’

Mr Davies had followed his daughter a couple of times. The problem was she knew what he looked like. But she didn’t know what I looked like, hence his visit.

‘You want me to check him out.’

‘I want you to eliminate him entirely, but I realise we can’t always get what we want. I take it you still have contacts in the force.’

I had contacts alright, though one of them had gone over to the dark side. John Banks would help, provided it didn’t get him into trouble. Hector Robertson might help too. I was still getting a handle on him but first impressions were promising.

‘I’ll tell you what I know.’

He’d followed his daughter to the Leith end of Ferry Road, where he had his only sighting. He’d taken several pictures of York, though since he had to avoid being seen they could have been clearer. Still, I got the idea. York was tall, heavily tattooed in the upper arm, sported an earring on the left lobe, possibly on the right as well, smoked a lot and rolled his own.

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