Eye for an Eye

it over the body, then dragged it from the room to join Dieter.
    Back in the living room, he spent ten minutes scrubbing the worst of Alice’s blood off the carpet. Not perfect, but by evening it would have dried, and he would—
    The telephone rang.
    He froze.
    On the sixth ring, the answering machine kicked in, and Alice’s annoying voice told the caller to leave a message after the long beep and have a great day. Bitch.
    ‘Alice. This is Margo. You never called, and I wondered if you needed me to bring anything over this evening. If I don’t hear from you, Jim and I will be round at eight. We’re looking forward to it. See you then. Byeee.’
    Sebbie stared at the phone. This evening? At eight?
    What was she coming round for? Dinner? A party? Was that what the food in the fridge was for? Were friends expected?
    Sebbie paced the room. His perfect hideaway was about to be ruined on day one. He could not afford to lose this flat. He could not let that happen. But if he stayed, he would be discovered.
    He would need to find somewhere else. But where?
    He stared at the dried blood on the floor as the seed of an idea sprouted in his mind.
    He knew just the place.

CHAPTER 23
     
    Gilchrist walked up the hill toward Kirkhill, the Cathedral ruins on his left, on his right the black craggy cliffs that separated the West Sands from the East. By the time he stood outside Garvie’s front door it was after eight.
    He pressed the bell.
    Lex Garvie seemed not in the least surprised to see him.
    ‘Up bright and early, I see. I take it this is a personal call.’
    ‘Been expecting me?’
    ‘Rumour has it you’re suspended.’ She stepped to the side. ‘So in that case, you can come in.’
    ‘Word travels fast,’ he said.
    ‘It’s a small town. And small-town people love small-town gossip.’
    ‘Got any for me?’
    ‘Gossip?’ she said. ‘Or tea?’
    ‘A bit of both,’ he said. ‘If you’ve got it.’
    ‘I can give you tea. But no gossip.’
    Lex Garvie was showing another side to him, a side unlikely to belong to someone who had filed a complaint against him. He followed her through to the kitchen, pleased to find Pitter seated on her spot by the sink. He stroked her chin and felt the press of her neck as she searched for maximum pleasure. He looked out of the window, relieved to see his trail through the back garden was not noticeable. He stepped to the side as Garvie put on the kettle and popped two teabags into a silver teapot.
    As Garvie pottered about in silence, it struck Gilchrist that she seemed strangely unfazed by his presence. Her light-tanned skin and short blond hair shone with a healthy glow and gave off a fragrance that reminded him of his father’s hair oil. She was barefoot, in black Lycra shorts and a white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, so he could see her firm muscle tone and smooth skin almost all the way to her bra-free nipples.
    ‘Do you mind if I ask a few questions?’ he said. ‘Off the record, of course.’
    ‘If you must.’
    ‘Force of habit, I suppose.’
    ‘I’ve already told that Inspector Whatsisname—’
    ‘DeFiore?’
    ‘That’s him. I’ve already told him all I know.’
    ‘It won’t take long.’
    ‘That’s what DeFiore said.’
    ‘Did he stay for a cuppa, too?’
    She laughed and lifted her hand to run it through her spiked hair. Her upper arms flexed with sinewed ease. ‘Care for a biscuit?’ she asked, and removed a plastic container from the cupboard above the kettle. ‘KitKat. Toffeepops. Happy Faces. Got them in for my sister’s kids. Or just plain old suggestive digestive?’
    ‘Whatever you’re having.’
    ‘I don’t take chocolate.’
    ‘Plain old suggestive digestive sounds fine, then.’
    She giggled, which seemed out of character. But the ring of her laugh triggered something in his brain. He had heard a giggle like that somewhere before, but could not place it.
    Garvie collected a couple of mugs and a side plate from the dishwasher, then opened the fridge and removed a crockery ramekin from the second shelf. ‘Homemade pâté?’ she asked. ‘It’s vegetarian.’
    ‘No thanks.’
    ‘Well, seeing as how you’re here, let’s have it.’
    Gilchrist waited until she spread two knife loads of pâté onto her side plate and returned the ramekin to the fridge before he said, ‘Your complaint.’
    ‘Complaint?’
    ‘Your complaint against me.’
    She hesitated, then said, ‘No idea what you’re talking about.’
    Undecided if