Eye for an Eye

anything?’
    ‘Should I have?’
    ‘I suppose it’s too late to ask if you have a warrant?’
    ‘It’s never too late to ask,’ he said. ‘But anyway, I’ve no more questions.’
    At the front door, he stopped. ‘Oh, just the one,’ he said. ‘Lex. That’s an unusual name.’
    ‘For a woman, you mean?’
    Gilchrist waited.
    ‘It’s short for Alexandra,’ she explained.
    He pulled the door open. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I appreciate your help.’
    She did not return his smile.

CHAPTER 10
     
    ‘Pint of Eighty Shilling.’
    ‘Rough day, Andy?’ Fast Eddy nodded to the back corner. ‘Old Willie’s in. And by the look of him, he’s thirsty.’
    ‘Don’t know if I’m up for him today.’
    ‘Been asking for you.’ Fast Eddy slid forward a pint mug filled with a creamy liquid that darkened from the bottom like a mulatto Guinness. ‘There you go. One for Willie?’
    ‘Why not?’
    Fast Eddy turned to the optics on the wall and pressed a whisky glass to The Famous Grouse. ‘Double?’
    ‘Not yet.’
    ‘He tells me it’s worth at least a couple of doubles.’
    ‘We’ll see about that.’
    Gilchrist slapped a fiver onto the bar then carried the drinks into the back area. He pulled a chair up to a table scratched from decades of heavy drinking. Tyke, Old Willie’s Highland terrier, lay curled on the floor and blinked tired-eyed at him.
    Seated opposite, Old Willie barely glanced up. An empty glass and the dregs of a half-pint of Guinness circled with white rings reminded Gilchrist that Old Willie liked to take his time. He slid the half across the table.
    ‘Eddy said you wanted to see me.’
    Old Willie’s rheumy eyes studied the whisky, his mouth open like a panting bird. A shaking hand moved toward the glass, and fingers as fine as a bird’s claws gripped it. Lips slid over gums too old for false teeth.
    ‘You’ll have to dae better than this, son.’
    ‘There’s more, Willie.’
    ‘There would have to be.’
    ‘How about a half-pint?’
    ‘That would do nicely. For starters.’
    The glass shivered its way to a black hole of a mouth, and white lips wrapped the rim as if seeking support. A thimbleful tipped in, and Old Willie’s eyes widened as if stunned that the whisky was real. Then the glass was returned to the table.
    ‘So, what do you want to tell me?’ Gilchrist tried.
    Brown eyes, too large for the head, it seemed, sparkled to life. ‘And here was me thinking you only wanted to ask how I was keeping.’ A laugh rattled somewhere in his throat.
    Gilchrist waited while the old man dabbed spittle from his chin. ‘And how are you keeping, Willie?’
    ‘How dae I look, son?’
    ‘You look fine.’
    ‘You’re a bugger of a liar.’ A claw lifted the glass to thin lips, and Gilchrist noted the shaking had all but gone. Another sip, larger this time. ‘By God, son, you know how to reach a man’s heart.’
    ‘And his tongue?’
    Willie’s face creased into a smile. ‘The doctor tells me I’ll no see the end of the year. I asked him which one.’ This time the rattle turned into a fit of coughing that brought a hint of colour to the grey cheeks.
    Gilchrist leaned closer. ‘Are you all right?’
    ‘I’m fine, son. Just get me that half-pint. And another one of these.’
    ‘In a minute.’
    Old Willie’s eyes glistened, wide as an eagle’s. A tuft of grey hair that sprouted from the top of a tiny crown added to the avian image. ‘You used to be a pushover, son.’
    ‘I used to have a job, Willie.’
    ‘Aye. I heard.’
    Gilchrist took a mouthful of beer, then said, ‘What else have you heard?’
    ‘A bit of this. A bit of that.’
    Gilchrist knew not to press. He pushed his chair back and stood. ‘Double is it?’
    Old Willie scowled. ‘And make sure there’s nae water in it.’
    Gilchrist had known Willie Morrison for over twenty years and had learned never to undervalue the snippets he served up at little more than the cost of a couple of drinks. Once, when he had helped trap the mastermind of an illicit video distribution scheme, Gilchrist sent a bottle of Grouse to his home. Old Willie had never thanked him, it being accepted that payment for information did not merit gratitude.
    But the last two years had seen Old Willie’s health decline. Gilchrist had been unable to get a straight answer from him on his medical condition and, abusing his constabulary powers, checked the hospital records to confirm the old man was dying and that last July, much