2007 - The Dead Pool by Prefers to remain anonymous, Sue Walker
Authors: Prefers to remain anonymous, Sue Walker
Ads: Link
she’s losing her mind big time by all accounts. She’s finished, Ally. Finished, understand? Whether she ends up in prison or not, one way or another, she’ll be gone soon and probably end up selling the Big Issue , if not herself, down at Leith docks. Oh, and if it makes you feel any better, I’ll be following Morag to the bankruptcy courts before long. Wait, Ally, please! Don’t just walk away like that! I’m sorry…what I said about lona and me.’
Suddenly, Ally halted and turned on his heel. It was impossible to see his face in the darkness, but the voice was steely. ‘I knew about you and lona. You weren’t important to her. She was just playing with you. She was good at that.’
Fraser swallowed hard, trying to keep control. ‘Well, then. It looks like I’m getting my comeuppance all round. The business has gone to hell. I’m going to salvage what I can and get out of here as soon as possible. If I can sell the house for a decent sum, I might just break even and I’ll pay you back what I can.’ He held out his hands in appeasement. ‘But…I’ve thought about this for weeks. We have got to let everything from last summer go now. I mean it…it’s over, Ally. Just…just let it go, man. I’m sorry. Sorry that lona’s gone. Sorry for it all. But she is gone. Let it go.’
His last few words had dropped to a whisper, whipping away on the wind. Ally wasn’t looking at him now. Instead, he’d half turned, ready to resume his journey down the garden. His body was eerily still, the wind flapping at the baggy shorts and shirt, his immobile silhouette like a near-ghost in the darkness. At last he moved his head to speak.
‘You can run away if you like. Bonnie too, for all I care. But, I tell you something. I’m going to stay. Until I know Morag Ramsay is going to get what is due to her. Bankruptcy? Destitution? They’re the least of her worries! She’s got two creditors that she mil honour. She will repay the debt she owes me. And, most of all, the one she owes lona.’
Eraser shivered, watching as the ghostiy figure moved silendy away until it disappeared, engulfed by the night.
Twelve
K irstin approached Jamie’s old house on foot, admiring the familiar sight before her. Jamie’s home was a magnificent Victorian villa, with the ruins of an old water mill further along the riverbank, at the edge of the property. Halfway up the gravel drive, she caught sight of Ross standing by a ground-floor bay window. In shirtsleeves and suit trousers he’d obviously come straight from work. His right hand was cutting short sharp chopping movements through the air as he spoke into his mobile. Probably making mincemeat of some poor minion who’d been forced to stay late at the office. Although the day had, inevitably, been another hot, steamy affair, by late afternoon the clouds had descended. Now, the night air was humid and heavy with the threat of thunder. Maybe she should have brought the car. She checked her watch. After nine. She’d allowed Ross to set the time for her visit; he was the one with the busy job, after all. Besides, it had left her free to talk to Donald Ferguson again, though she’d carefully omitted any of what Glen had confided in her. And she had called Glen. He’d seemed to sense her fragile mood over the phone and offered to meet up soon to talk more. She was grateful for the people who’d cared for Jamie. It was making her life easier, a bit less guilt-ridden. Both Donald and Glen, from their very different perspectives, had reassured her that whatever had been going on with Jamie, she shouldn’t blame herself for not being around. They had been around for him, and still he’d died.
She paused in the driveway, still gazing at an over-animated Ross. Was she up to this? The day had been stifling, on the emotions as well as the body. The encounter with Morag Ramsay had been draining. There was something insidiously infectious about being in the presence of someone so brittle
Suddenly, Ally halted and turned on his heel. It was impossible to see his face in the darkness, but the voice was steely. ‘I knew about you and lona. You weren’t important to her. She was just playing with you. She was good at that.’
Fraser swallowed hard, trying to keep control. ‘Well, then. It looks like I’m getting my comeuppance all round. The business has gone to hell. I’m going to salvage what I can and get out of here as soon as possible. If I can sell the house for a decent sum, I might just break even and I’ll pay you back what I can.’ He held out his hands in appeasement. ‘But…I’ve thought about this for weeks. We have got to let everything from last summer go now. I mean it…it’s over, Ally. Just…just let it go, man. I’m sorry. Sorry that lona’s gone. Sorry for it all. But she is gone. Let it go.’
His last few words had dropped to a whisper, whipping away on the wind. Ally wasn’t looking at him now. Instead, he’d half turned, ready to resume his journey down the garden. His body was eerily still, the wind flapping at the baggy shorts and shirt, his immobile silhouette like a near-ghost in the darkness. At last he moved his head to speak.
‘You can run away if you like. Bonnie too, for all I care. But, I tell you something. I’m going to stay. Until I know Morag Ramsay is going to get what is due to her. Bankruptcy? Destitution? They’re the least of her worries! She’s got two creditors that she mil honour. She will repay the debt she owes me. And, most of all, the one she owes lona.’
Eraser shivered, watching as the ghostiy figure moved silendy away until it disappeared, engulfed by the night.
Twelve
K irstin approached Jamie’s old house on foot, admiring the familiar sight before her. Jamie’s home was a magnificent Victorian villa, with the ruins of an old water mill further along the riverbank, at the edge of the property. Halfway up the gravel drive, she caught sight of Ross standing by a ground-floor bay window. In shirtsleeves and suit trousers he’d obviously come straight from work. His right hand was cutting short sharp chopping movements through the air as he spoke into his mobile. Probably making mincemeat of some poor minion who’d been forced to stay late at the office. Although the day had, inevitably, been another hot, steamy affair, by late afternoon the clouds had descended. Now, the night air was humid and heavy with the threat of thunder. Maybe she should have brought the car. She checked her watch. After nine. She’d allowed Ross to set the time for her visit; he was the one with the busy job, after all. Besides, it had left her free to talk to Donald Ferguson again, though she’d carefully omitted any of what Glen had confided in her. And she had called Glen. He’d seemed to sense her fragile mood over the phone and offered to meet up soon to talk more. She was grateful for the people who’d cared for Jamie. It was making her life easier, a bit less guilt-ridden. Both Donald and Glen, from their very different perspectives, had reassured her that whatever had been going on with Jamie, she shouldn’t blame herself for not being around. They had been around for him, and still he’d died.
She paused in the driveway, still gazing at an over-animated Ross. Was she up to this? The day had been stifling, on the emotions as well as the body. The encounter with Morag Ramsay had been draining. There was something insidiously infectious about being in the presence of someone so brittle
Similar Books
