Eye for an Eye

coming back.
    Gilchrist had been twelve. Jack, eighteen.
    She had pulled him to her, hugged him close.
    ‘When, Mum? When?’
    She never told him.
    The police never traced the hit-and-run driver. Or the car. It hurt to know that his brother’s killer had escaped justice for causing the death of a teenager, a young man who had the promise of the brightest of futures. Gilchrist had always wondered if it had been that single failure of the police that had driven him to join the Force in the first place. Now, the Force was the only thing he had to live for. Other than his kids, of course, whom he seldom saw ...
    Presents. He should take them presents.
    He glanced at his watch. Almost six.
    He retraced his steps.
    Although quieter than Market Street, some of the shops on South Street remained open until six. This and That sometimes stayed open later. The shop’s wooden sign hung on chains and swayed in the breeze, the name painted in red and gold swirls.
    It had been a while since he had last visited, but the window display seemed oddly familiar to him. Would Jack like the Art Deco CD rack? Probably not. How about the wooden marionette with the painted face for Maureen? He guessed not. She would likely see it as another instance of her father treating her like the child she no longer was.
    He gripped the door handle and pushed inside.
    The air smelled as thick and quiet as a library. Music murmured in the background. He recognized Sade, heard her husky voice whisper to him, ask if he thought she’d leave him when he was down on his knees. No, she wouldn’t do that.
    He walked to the counter and said to the top of a blond head, ‘I’m looking for a couple of great-to-see-you-again gifts for two troublesome youngsters.’
    Beth looked up with a strained expression that made him think she was expecting someone else. Then she smiled. ‘Andy. What a surprise.’
    He smiled back. ‘A pleasant one, I hope.’
    ‘The less said about the past, the better.’
    Gilchrist felt a flush creep to his cheeks. ‘You look great,’ he said, and meant it.
    ‘Don’t be fooled. Old Man Time is beginning to do his stuff.’
    ‘If you ask me, I’d say he’s passing you by.’
    ‘Always the charmer,’ she chuckled. ‘Great-to-see-you-again gifts? Are Maureen and Jack coming up?’
    He shook his head. ‘I’m going down to visit.’
    ‘Special occasion?’
    ‘Not quite.’
    Beth seemed to give his words some thought, then said, ‘I heard about it, Andy. It’s just awful.’ For one confusing moment, Gilchrist wondered how she could know about Gail’s cancer, until she said, ‘That’s six now. How many more people have to be murdered before they catch this killer? Are you any closer?’
    Despite not wanting to, Gilchrist found himself telling her he was off the case. ‘The powers that be thought it better if someone else led the investigation,’ he added.
    ‘Oh. Andy, I’m so sorry.’
    He smiled, which he hoped hid the truth.
    ‘Hi, Andy.’
    ‘Hi, Cindy,’ he said, and nodded at the pile of cardboard boxes balanced up to her chin. ‘Keeping you busy, is she?’
    ‘Nought but a slave-master. Or is it slave-mistress?’
    ‘Somehow that doesn’t sound right,’ said Gilchrist, but Cindy had stooped and was laying out the boxes on the floor behind the counter.
    He turned back to Beth. ‘You look troubled,’ he said.
    Her smile was as quick as a nervous tic. ‘Can we talk?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘In private.’
    ‘Your place or mine?’
    Beth looked away, and Gilchrist felt annoyed at having made such a lame joke.
    ‘We’re going through to the back,’ Beth called to Cindy. ‘Can you get ready to lock up?’
    ‘No problem.’
    Gilchrist followed her into a tiny office that smelled of dust and flowers. A wooden desk and fabric chair seemed to choke the room. A tower computer hummed on the floor by the side of the desk, and a monitor squeezed in beside a keyboard doubled as a window onto outer space through which stars flashed past at the speed of light.
    Beth backed onto the edge of the desk. Then off again. She locked her gaze on the monitor for a long moment, then gave an ugly grimace. ‘Someone fouled the shop entrance today.’
    ‘Fouled?’
    ‘Masturbated over the door handle then ran away.’ She pressed a hand to her lips. ‘It dripped onto the tiles. It was on the glass. I had to clean it up. It was disgusting.’
    Gilchrist kept his tone level. ‘He ran away?’
    She nodded.
    ‘Did you see