ground. Then he makes a show of grinding it into a mess of paper and tobacco.
I look at the carnage, then up at him. Can’t quite believe he had the balls to do that. “Very mature. I’ve got more, y’know. And we can go on all night.”
I take out another Embassy. Frank steps back. Shakes his head as I light the cigarette. He works his mouth.
Whatever he has to say, I don’t want to hear it. So I cut him off. “How’s the kid?”
“He’s fine. Family’s here.”
“Good.”
“Should’ve seen the dad, Cal. Bloke was crying, like weeping .”
“What’s he crying for?”
Frank shuffles his feet. “I don’t know. Relief, maybe. People get emotional at times like this. Can’t really blame him.”
“Probably a fuckin’ stamp collection or something. People are pigs.” I press my lips together, a cough threatening to break out of my mouth. Buggered if I’ll give Frank the satisfaction.
“Someone looking for you an’ all,” he says. “Lanky bloke, says he’s with the press. I thought he wanted to talk to me, like, but it’s you he’s after. Wanted a quick chat.”
“He mention my name, did he?”
“Called you a PI.”
“Fuck that. Can’t be arsed talking to a fuckin’ reporter. I’ve got to get back, get my car, man. Can’t leave it in Longsight.”
Frank grins. I look at him.
“What’s so funny?”
He points to the car park. “Right at the back there.”
“You nick my car keys, Frank?” I pat my jacket. The prescription bottle rattles. “The fuck you doing going through my pockets, man?”
“You gave them to us.” Frank looks hurt. “Remember, before they put you in the ambulance and you conked out.”
I shake my head. “Frank, no offence, but I wouldn’t trust you to wipe straight, let alone drive my car.”
“Well, you did. You told us to bring it back to the hospital.”
“I said that?” I look at the car park. Sure enough, right at the back, I can see the Micra’s white roof. Can’t really miss it — my car’s the only one that looks fit to be scrapped. “I don’t remember.”
“Yeah, you told us. Mind you, if you’re going to be all weird about it, I’ll take it back to Longsight.”
“No need to be a fuckin’ child, Frank.” I start walking towards the car.
“It’s in one piece. Just so you know, you can trust us to drive your car.”
“Right.” I put the cigarette in my mouth.
Wrong move. I cough and the Embassy goes flying out onto the ground.
“Fuck.”
Frank takes the opportunity to use his foot on the cigarette. He’s quick about it, but there’s no need for the obvious fucking relish. “See, you shouldn’t be smoking.”
I stare at him. “I appreciate your concern.”
“C’mon, least you can do is give us a lift home.”
No, the least I can do is leave him here, but I jerk my head towards the car anyway. Frank walks out in front and starts telling me about the press attention at the fire, the number of fire engines, all the people out front. Some of it I remember, most of it I don’t, and I’m interested in none of it. I’m about to tell Frank that when I hear someone shout my name. I turn round. There’s a lanky bloke running towards us, and the movement of his long limbs is strangely hypnotic, like a slow-motion John Cleese. He’s wearing a cheap suit that probably looked good three days ago.
“That the bloke who was looking for me?”
Frank nods.
“Thought as much. Get in the car.”
“Callum Innes,” says the bloke, stuttering to a walk, reaching into his pocket.
I think about lying, but I’ve already stopped, and I can’t think of anything convincing to fob this bloke off with. It’s been a long night. “What d’you say this bloke’s name was, Frank?”
“Andy Beeston,” says Beeston. “ Evening News .”
“Yeah, my mate told me about you. What d’you want?”
Beeston brings out a small tape recorder, clicks a button on the side, and holds it up to me. I step back.
“Just wondered if
I look at the carnage, then up at him. Can’t quite believe he had the balls to do that. “Very mature. I’ve got more, y’know. And we can go on all night.”
I take out another Embassy. Frank steps back. Shakes his head as I light the cigarette. He works his mouth.
Whatever he has to say, I don’t want to hear it. So I cut him off. “How’s the kid?”
“He’s fine. Family’s here.”
“Good.”
“Should’ve seen the dad, Cal. Bloke was crying, like weeping .”
“What’s he crying for?”
Frank shuffles his feet. “I don’t know. Relief, maybe. People get emotional at times like this. Can’t really blame him.”
“Probably a fuckin’ stamp collection or something. People are pigs.” I press my lips together, a cough threatening to break out of my mouth. Buggered if I’ll give Frank the satisfaction.
“Someone looking for you an’ all,” he says. “Lanky bloke, says he’s with the press. I thought he wanted to talk to me, like, but it’s you he’s after. Wanted a quick chat.”
“He mention my name, did he?”
“Called you a PI.”
“Fuck that. Can’t be arsed talking to a fuckin’ reporter. I’ve got to get back, get my car, man. Can’t leave it in Longsight.”
Frank grins. I look at him.
“What’s so funny?”
He points to the car park. “Right at the back there.”
“You nick my car keys, Frank?” I pat my jacket. The prescription bottle rattles. “The fuck you doing going through my pockets, man?”
“You gave them to us.” Frank looks hurt. “Remember, before they put you in the ambulance and you conked out.”
I shake my head. “Frank, no offence, but I wouldn’t trust you to wipe straight, let alone drive my car.”
“Well, you did. You told us to bring it back to the hospital.”
“I said that?” I look at the car park. Sure enough, right at the back, I can see the Micra’s white roof. Can’t really miss it — my car’s the only one that looks fit to be scrapped. “I don’t remember.”
“Yeah, you told us. Mind you, if you’re going to be all weird about it, I’ll take it back to Longsight.”
“No need to be a fuckin’ child, Frank.” I start walking towards the car.
“It’s in one piece. Just so you know, you can trust us to drive your car.”
“Right.” I put the cigarette in my mouth.
Wrong move. I cough and the Embassy goes flying out onto the ground.
“Fuck.”
Frank takes the opportunity to use his foot on the cigarette. He’s quick about it, but there’s no need for the obvious fucking relish. “See, you shouldn’t be smoking.”
I stare at him. “I appreciate your concern.”
“C’mon, least you can do is give us a lift home.”
No, the least I can do is leave him here, but I jerk my head towards the car anyway. Frank walks out in front and starts telling me about the press attention at the fire, the number of fire engines, all the people out front. Some of it I remember, most of it I don’t, and I’m interested in none of it. I’m about to tell Frank that when I hear someone shout my name. I turn round. There’s a lanky bloke running towards us, and the movement of his long limbs is strangely hypnotic, like a slow-motion John Cleese. He’s wearing a cheap suit that probably looked good three days ago.
“That the bloke who was looking for me?”
Frank nods.
“Thought as much. Get in the car.”
“Callum Innes,” says the bloke, stuttering to a walk, reaching into his pocket.
I think about lying, but I’ve already stopped, and I can’t think of anything convincing to fob this bloke off with. It’s been a long night. “What d’you say this bloke’s name was, Frank?”
“Andy Beeston,” says Beeston. “ Evening News .”
“Yeah, my mate told me about you. What d’you want?”
Beeston brings out a small tape recorder, clicks a button on the side, and holds it up to me. I step back.
“Just wondered if
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