things tomorrow. Right now it’s time we were all heading homewards.’
Unable to sleep, Sally was in the kitchen when Luke joined her. ‘You not able to shut your eyes either?’ she asked, rising to make him some cocoa.
‘No, I just got into bed when Irish’s problems put all thoughts of sleep out of my mind.’ Sally did not respond. Time passed and he was sipping the hot chocolate drink when he slowly drawled, ‘Sally, what did you make of the other day?’
‘In the prison?’ Luke nodded. ‘Sure the laddie’s suffering and like you I’ve never thought that he did murder Marie. So what we have to do is find some evidence that will lead to a successful appeal.’
‘Aye. But I don’t know where to start looking for that kind of evidence. I know you won’t believe me Sally, but I haven’t a clue where to begin. Do you?’
Sally slowly shook her head before suggesting, ‘The trial records. You never know, they just might hold the answer.’
‘Wish I’d been at the trial. If I had been perhaps I could have seen where there was some dubiety or misdirection.’
‘Don’t know about that,’ Sally mumbled. ‘I attended and the prosecution seemed to have dotted all the i’s and crossed all the t’s.’
Luke banged his cocoa mug down on the table and he reached over and grabbed Sally’s hand and vigorously shook it. ‘Of course you were there. Now take your time but think back. Think about what was said. What was Irish’s alibi? What was disallowed and why? Who do you think was lying? Who benefited by Irish being sent down?’
Sally began to laugh quietly then dragging her hand from Luke’s she responded, ‘Luke, you are the detective. I’m just a wee Leith businesswoman who left school at fourteen … so how on blinking earth do you expect me to read a trial like a lawyer?’
‘A wee insignificant businesswoman is what you want me to believe you are? Naw, when it comes to it there’s nobody as sharp as you or can read it how it really is.’ Sally huffed and shook her head. ‘Now, Sal,’ he went on, ‘not right now but in your quiet times go over the trial. Picture the scenes. Think about what did not quite ring true.’
‘And while I’m doing that could I suggest you go and try to straighten out our wayward sister Josie.’
‘Aye I will. And talking of relatives, how’s your Helen faring?’
A warm smile came to Sally’s face. ‘Oh, my darling baby daughter Helen, well she flew away, as you know, to teach English in a school in Menorca.’
‘Still there is she?’
‘Aye. Lives in my apartment.’
‘By herself?’
‘Yeah. Mind you there is a Filipino illegal immigrant who sings and plays a guitar who she mentions from time to time. Seems she teaches him English and they both go to Spanish classes together.’
‘Illegal immigrant? Why is he allowed to stay?’
‘The tourist trade is booming and during the day he works as a waiter in Dirty Dick’s shack, which doubles as a restaurant, and at night he plays his guitar and sings in a band that goes around the hotels entertaining.’
Luke laughed. ‘Is he any good at the singing?’
‘Well, after a few sangrias Jose’s rendering of “You and Your Spanish Eyes” has the half-cut holidaymakers thinking they are enjoying a night at La Scala.’
‘But Sally, the La Scala’s in Italy, is it no?’
‘Aye. But just you wait until you hear his warbling in broken English and you too will subconsciously transport yourself to Sorrento.’
Luke was about to point out that La Scala was in Milan but he refrained. With what Sally had said he realised what she thought about Jose. This led him on to wonder if Sally’s contemptuous estimate of the young man was because her Helen was perhaps transported in a different way by ‘You and Your Spanish Eyes’!
‘Anyway,’ Sally said, bringing an end to Luke’s speculations, ‘you and I will get ourselves over to Santa Tomas for a wee holiday.’
‘And when will that
Unable to sleep, Sally was in the kitchen when Luke joined her. ‘You not able to shut your eyes either?’ she asked, rising to make him some cocoa.
‘No, I just got into bed when Irish’s problems put all thoughts of sleep out of my mind.’ Sally did not respond. Time passed and he was sipping the hot chocolate drink when he slowly drawled, ‘Sally, what did you make of the other day?’
‘In the prison?’ Luke nodded. ‘Sure the laddie’s suffering and like you I’ve never thought that he did murder Marie. So what we have to do is find some evidence that will lead to a successful appeal.’
‘Aye. But I don’t know where to start looking for that kind of evidence. I know you won’t believe me Sally, but I haven’t a clue where to begin. Do you?’
Sally slowly shook her head before suggesting, ‘The trial records. You never know, they just might hold the answer.’
‘Wish I’d been at the trial. If I had been perhaps I could have seen where there was some dubiety or misdirection.’
‘Don’t know about that,’ Sally mumbled. ‘I attended and the prosecution seemed to have dotted all the i’s and crossed all the t’s.’
Luke banged his cocoa mug down on the table and he reached over and grabbed Sally’s hand and vigorously shook it. ‘Of course you were there. Now take your time but think back. Think about what was said. What was Irish’s alibi? What was disallowed and why? Who do you think was lying? Who benefited by Irish being sent down?’
Sally began to laugh quietly then dragging her hand from Luke’s she responded, ‘Luke, you are the detective. I’m just a wee Leith businesswoman who left school at fourteen … so how on blinking earth do you expect me to read a trial like a lawyer?’
‘A wee insignificant businesswoman is what you want me to believe you are? Naw, when it comes to it there’s nobody as sharp as you or can read it how it really is.’ Sally huffed and shook her head. ‘Now, Sal,’ he went on, ‘not right now but in your quiet times go over the trial. Picture the scenes. Think about what did not quite ring true.’
‘And while I’m doing that could I suggest you go and try to straighten out our wayward sister Josie.’
‘Aye I will. And talking of relatives, how’s your Helen faring?’
A warm smile came to Sally’s face. ‘Oh, my darling baby daughter Helen, well she flew away, as you know, to teach English in a school in Menorca.’
‘Still there is she?’
‘Aye. Lives in my apartment.’
‘By herself?’
‘Yeah. Mind you there is a Filipino illegal immigrant who sings and plays a guitar who she mentions from time to time. Seems she teaches him English and they both go to Spanish classes together.’
‘Illegal immigrant? Why is he allowed to stay?’
‘The tourist trade is booming and during the day he works as a waiter in Dirty Dick’s shack, which doubles as a restaurant, and at night he plays his guitar and sings in a band that goes around the hotels entertaining.’
Luke laughed. ‘Is he any good at the singing?’
‘Well, after a few sangrias Jose’s rendering of “You and Your Spanish Eyes” has the half-cut holidaymakers thinking they are enjoying a night at La Scala.’
‘But Sally, the La Scala’s in Italy, is it no?’
‘Aye. But just you wait until you hear his warbling in broken English and you too will subconsciously transport yourself to Sorrento.’
Luke was about to point out that La Scala was in Milan but he refrained. With what Sally had said he realised what she thought about Jose. This led him on to wonder if Sally’s contemptuous estimate of the young man was because her Helen was perhaps transported in a different way by ‘You and Your Spanish Eyes’!
‘Anyway,’ Sally said, bringing an end to Luke’s speculations, ‘you and I will get ourselves over to Santa Tomas for a wee holiday.’
‘And when will that
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