Tooth for a Tooth by T.F. Muir

Author:T.F. Muir [Muir, T.F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General
ISBN: 9781780337784
Google: O3CeBAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2012-09-05T12:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

Gilchrist won the jurisdictional fight over the MGB on the basis that it might have been involved in a fatal hit-and-run accident within the town of St Andrews. However, the idea that this car might now be the cause of two deaths worried him. Betson’s third-degree burns to his face, neck and shoulders had landed him in intensive care, and Gilchrist had seen enough burns victims to know he might not pull through.

He stood back as the tow-truck driver hauled the MGB from the garage and secured it with chains to the truck’s flatbed. Six spotlights mounted on a bar running across the cabin roof exposed the MGB in all its glistening, yet blistered, glory. Despite the fire, the damage appeared superficial. Paint bubbled along the nearside front panel, door and rear panel like coloured blisters streaked with soot. The bonnet, roof and hatchback boot lid were blackened but not blistered. The wire wheels were scorched, and one of the tyres looked like skin ready to slough. The nearside headlight and bright-work looked intact.

He signed the paperwork and checked that the car was to be delivered to SK Motors, a ramshackle garage in the town of Strathkinness on the outskirts of St Andrews. Shuggie may not run the most profitable business, but when it came to things mechanical, his layman’s terms were like gold in a court of law.

With the MGB secured and Betson removed to the hospital, Gilchrist slid into his Merc, leaving the firemen and neighbours to restock the garage and secure it for the night. He was fifteen minutes from St Andrews when he called Stan.

‘What’s the latest on Fairclough?’

‘Bad news, I’m afraid, boss. He’s not at home or work. No one’s heard from him since yesterday. And his mobile’s been disconnected.’

‘You mean the battery’s flat?’

‘No. Disconnected. He called the phone company and cancelled his contract.’

Gilchrist had once tracked a scam artist through the calls he made on his mobile to his girlfriend, and who was now serving two years at Her Majesty’s pleasure. But Fairclough was a different animal. Having already killed once and lived with that knowledge for over thirty years, was he now prepared to kill again to keep his freedom?

And yet, something did not fit. Why would Fairclough think anyone would connect him to the fire in Betson’s garage? He would have fled while the fire took hold, and must have thought Gilchrist had been trapped and killed, the car destroyed. So why cancel his phone contract? If he did not want anyone to track him to Betson’s, why not just leave the phone at home? It took a few seconds for Gilchrist’s logic to work out that Fairclough must have cancelled his phone contract before the arson attack, and that he had a different SIM card, one of a number that were more than likely untraceable.

‘Call the press, Stan,’ he said. ‘Tell them we want to question Fairclough about a hit-and-run accident in the sixties. And get them to run it beside a story about a garage fire.

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