Hope to Die by James Ed

Author:James, Ed
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grey Dog Books
Published: 2023-12-31T00:00:00+00:00

25

The vast golf course stretched out to the left, its manicured greens and bunkers desolate in the morning light, with the muted roar of the North Sea in the distance and the twinkling lights of Carnoustie over the water, just like Vicky had said.

Fenchurch piloted his car through the historic streets of St Andrews. Gothic spires reached for the sky. Old stone buildings lined Links Crescent, leafy like some North London suburb, but both felt a million miles from his stomping ground in the East End – this was much nearer that distance.

He followed Vicky’s car onto North Street, which looked like the town’s main artery, but his satnav showed another one a block north. If block was the right term for a town this old.

Vicky pulled in on a double yellow, opposite a pub and a hotel. Up ahead, university buildings bustled with student life. The streets were alive with youth and energy as they trudged towards their first lectures of the day.

Fenchurch grabbed the space behind her car and put the usual sign out – hopefully Scottish traffic wardens obeyed that. He got out of his car into the chill of the morning and stretched out. ‘That was some drive over.’

‘November isn’t exactly seeing it in its best light.’

‘Looked fine to me.’

She smiled. ‘You get your clean underwear in Markies?’

‘And this shirt, yeah. You’d have thought I’d learn to pack a go bag but…’ Fenchurch scratched at his neck. ‘I’ve been known to have a bit of tunnel vision.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Something I should worry about?’

‘God, no. Just not thinking about certain things.’ Fenchurch looked up at the townhouse. ‘So the manager of a rock band lives here?’

The townhouse was four storeys of historic charm. An impeccably restored stone façade with a touch of modern opulence. The lime-green door was flanked by stone pillars and adorned with a gleaming brass knocker. Windows either side were framed with deep-blue velvet drapes, offering glimpses of art that likely cost more than most officers made in a year.

‘I’ll lead, if you don’t mind.’ Vicky crossed the wide avenue, then walked up the steps and rapped the door knocker with a loud clatter. ‘Don’t want anything thrown at me.’

Fenchurch winced. ‘I told you, that wasn’t my fault.’

‘Sure. I believe you.’

‘I’m guessing you’ve got previous with this Lennethy guy?’

A tight nod. ‘He’s been involved in a drugs investigation.’

‘Suspect?’

‘Witness.’

‘Do tell.’

Before she could even start, the door opened. A man stood there, his silver fringe hanging over piercing blue eyes. Decked out in lime-and-purple plaid three-quarter-length trousers, clashing with a crisp orange polo. He looked ready to conquer the greens. Or at least get lost in the surrounding bunkers. He focused on Vicky. ‘Inspector!’

She smiled back at him. ‘Lennethy.’

‘How the devil are you?’

‘Need a word, sir. Inside, if that’s okay?’

‘Listen, I’m teeing off in twenty minutes and I’m already running late.’

‘You’re golfing?’

‘Why else would I live here?’ Lennethy laughed, but it soon darkened. ‘After what happened in Glasgow, I decided to clean up my act. Get fit.

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