Snapshot by Craig Robertson Page B

killings every chance he got.
    ‘Tell me more about this Ally Riddle,’ he began. ‘Is he going to be able to run Quinn’s business? Surely the hyenas will be moving in to pick over the bones.’
    ‘Course they will,’ nodded Addison. ‘Jo-Jo Johnstone, Bumpy Scott, Tookie Cochrane or the Gilmartins, you can bet they’re interested. Their kind always have an eye on someone else’s territory if they sense it’s ripe for taking over. But Ally Riddle is still the bookies’ favourite. The word is that he’ll be able to hold Quinn’s mob together.’
    ‘What about Caldwell’s operation?’
    ‘Same thing. A couple of his lieutenants, Fraser Gray or Tommy Wright maybe, will have first crack at it but if they don’t show enough balls then Johnstone, Terry and Davie Gilmartin et cetera will be chapping at their door. Whoever killed these two bams has created a vacuum that needs filling. And it will be filled.’
    There were some questions he knew were better not to ask but Winter never could help himself.
    ‘Addy, if you guys know so much about what these cunts are up to and who is running what for who, then why aren’t more of them in the nick?’
    Addison’s eyes narrowed.
    ‘Oh right, why didn’t we think of that? Tony, if it was that simple . . .’
    A tune suddenly burst from Addison’s jacket, saving Winter from whatever was coming next. It was the theme tune to Top Cat , the indisputable leader of the gang, and by the time Addison had wrestled the phone from his pocket Winter had worked out that meant it was Alex Shirley. His guess was on the money.
    ‘Yes, boss,’ answered Addison as he got off his bar stool, taking the call outside and away from interested ears, including Winter, who was left admiring a full pint of Guinness, thinking not for the first time that it was a thing of beauty. Deeper than the darkest night and topped by a perfect full moon. If it was a sunset they would paint it.
    The door swung open again and Addison burst through with a look of triumph on his face.
    ‘Put your money away, wee man. Drinks are on me.’
    Winter could have told him that they already had full pints and that he’d paid for them but there was little point. He knew Addison in full flow and there would be no stopping him.
    ‘Whisky,’ he shouted to the barman who was in the middle of serving someone else. ‘Two large Highland Parks and one for yourself.’ The last comment removed some of the scowl from the barman’s features and completely washed over Winter’s protests that he didn’t want whisky.
    ‘Okay, wee man, do you want the good news or the bad news?’
    Winter just shook his head wearily and took a gulp of his Guinness. The only thing worse than Addison in a bad mood was him in a good one.
    ‘What’s that you say? The bad news?’ chirruped Addison, regardless of his silence. ‘There is no bad news just some really fucking good news.’
    ‘Just tell me.’
    ‘Okay, that was Superintendent Shirley. I’m on the team for the Quinn and Caldwell shootings! The Temple had already said he’d wanted me on it but the hooker killing threatened to screw that up.’
    ‘Very inconsiderate of her,’ Winter interrupted.
    ‘Ach, you know what I mean. Anyway the point is that I was able to convince Shirley that such a sensitive case would benefit from the female touch and that anyway, DS Narey was overdue the opportunity to run an investigation on her own. So he’s agreed to let Rachel take it on from here.’
    Winter winced at how well Rachel would take that.
    ‘Oh, she’ll love you for that,’ he managed sarcastically.
    ‘Ah, it’s all thanks to you,’ Addison responded with a wicked grin. ‘It was your idea that I ask to get a run on the sniper killings. Great idea, and I’ll make sure Rachel knows it.’
    Great, thought Winter miserably. That was all he needed.
    Addison was his best mate but he couldn’t help feel a kick of jealousy. He was in where Winter wanted to be. A slideshow played