The Papers of Tony Veitch by William McIlvanney

Great Eastern Hotel, a name that sat on the Duke Street doss-house like a top-hat on a turd. In easier weather, he had favoured the East End around Glasgow Green and the decaying, still unredeveloped area south west of Gorbals Street.
    Harkness had been worried about Laidlaw since they set out on foot from the office. He knew Laidlaw’s belief in what he sometimes called ‘absorbing the streets’, as if you could solve crime by osmosis. Apart from being of dubiouseffectiveness, it was sore on the feet. Sometimes the preoccupied conversation that went with it wasn’t a very soothing accompaniment, like watching a hamster desperately going nowhere in a revolving cage.
    â€˜Paddy Collins mentioned on Eck’s bit of paper. Paddy Collins dead. What connection could Eck have with Paddy Collins’ death? Did Milligan tell you anything else?’
    â€˜No. Just that.’
    â€˜Did he say anybody had been at the Vicky when he was there?’
    â€˜Paddy’s wife. And I suppose Cam.’
    They were passing a phone-box.
    â€˜It’s weird. Wait and I’ll try that number again.’
    They went into the box and Laidlaw dialled it from memory. Harkness could understand why. It was the fourth time Laidlaw had tried it since they had started walking. This time it answered at the twelfth ring. Laidlaw’s eyes were like a small boy’s at Christmas. He nodded Harkness in to share the ear-piece as he inserted the money.
    â€˜Hullo,’ Laidlaw said.
    â€˜Hullo?’ It was a woman’s voice.
    â€˜Hullo. Who’s speaking, please?’
    â€˜Hullo, hullo?’ She sounded elderly.
    â€˜Who’s speaking, please?’
    â€˜Hullo. This is Mrs Wotherspoon. Who are you, son?’
    â€˜Excuse me,’ Laidlaw said, winking at Harkness. ‘I just want to check I’ve got the right number. What address is that you’re speaking from?’
    â€˜Address? This is a public phone-box, son. I was just passin’ there an’ I heard it ringin’. I’m on ma way to the chiropodist’s.Ma feet are givin’ me laldy. It takes me about ten minutes tae pass a phone-box the way Ah walk. That’s probably why Ah heard ye.’
    Harkness was wheezing silently, his face red with suppressed laughter, and winking elaborately back at Laidlaw. Laidlaw looked as if he’d been given a stockingful of ashes for his Christmas.
    â€˜Where is the phone-box, love?’ he asked.
    â€˜It’s one of the two boxes at the corner of Queen Margaret Drive and Wilton Street. What is it, son? Ye tryin’ to make contact with somebody? Can Ah help ye?’
    â€˜Look, love,’ Laidlaw said. ‘I’m sorry I bothered you. It’s a wrong number. Thanks for your help.’
    â€˜Not at all.’
    â€˜I hope you get the feet sorted out.’
    â€˜So do Ah, son. So do Ah. Ah’ve got feet here like two Mother’s Pride loafs. Ta, ta, son.’
    â€˜Cheerio.’
    As they walked on, Laidlaw accepted Harkness’s mickeytaking. But it didn’t prevent him from quickly resuming his preoccupation.
    â€˜Well, it’s something,’ he said. ‘That’s that dealt with. Paddy Collins is incommunicado. “The Crib” is too general to mean anything to us just now. That leaves the Pollokshields address and the mysterious Lynsey Farren. We’ll see what they yield after we check this out.’
    Laidlaw and Harkness stayed north of the river at first. They checked part of the Green roughly, coming out past the strange, ornate façade of Templeton’s Carpet Factory.
    â€˜Some smashing buildings in the city,’ Harkness said. ‘But you never notice them.’
    Laidlaw agreed.
    â€˜This job gives you tunnel vision,’ he said.
    They wandered weirdly. Harkness began to worry even more about Laidlaw. There was a compulsion in the way Laidlaw kept walking. It was ruthless. He stopped strange people,