Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

waited until she sat. ‘Do I have a choice?’
    ‘You could tell me to fuck off, but you’re way too polite to say that to a woman.’
    ‘I’ve been known to be rude.’
    She took another hit of her Marlboro, pulling long and hard, then stubbed the cigarette into an ashtray that Gilchrist had shoved to the end of the table. ‘By all accounts you’re a nice guy,’ she said, ‘which made me wonder, what’s a nice guy like you doing in a shitty job like this?’ She held his gaze, long enough for him to feel a growing need to look away.
    He picked up his pint, eyed her over the rim. ‘It pays the bills,’ he said at length, ‘and keeps me busy. Which means I won’t be staying here for long.’
    ‘Business, business.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s not good for you, Andy. All work and no play makes
Jack
a dull boy.’
    Gilchrist caught her emphasis on the word Jack, and replaced his glass to the table with a crack harder than intended. He glared at eyes that stared back at him, and wondered just what was going on in that sharp mind of hers.
    ‘You wanted to ask me something,’ he said.
    ‘I want your agreement to write about you and your cases.’ She retrieved her Marlboros, tapped one on the table and lit up with deliberation. Her gold lighter snapped shut, its studded diamonds glinting like a misplaced cluster. She leaned back in her seat, blew smoke across the table. ‘I think I’m being reasonable.’
    ‘Why do you need my approval? Why not go ahead and write whatever you like? You’re going to do that anyway.’
    ‘Professional pride.’
    ‘Don’t give me that.’
    ‘You’ve got me wrong, Andy. I’m—’
    ‘Oh no I’ve bloody well not I’ve got you spot on is what I have. You’re a manipulative bitch who’ll do anything to get what she wants.’ The words were out before he could stop himself. He sat back, stunned by the force of his anger. It was the thought of her digging into his brother’s accident that had him fired up. Or perhaps it was her interruption of Nance’s imminent dismissal of him.
    He pushed his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m sorry.’ He jerked a smile. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just . . .’
    ‘Stressed out?’ Her face broke into a grin.
    ‘Most people would have taken offence at what I said.’
    ‘I’m not most people.’
    ‘Maybe it’s the American in you.’
    ‘Maybe.’ She lifted her gin and tonic and eyed him as she finished it off. Then she replaced the empty glass to the table like a chess player about to declare
check mate
. ‘Not going to buy me another?’
    He felt regret at his burst of anger, and relief at the opportunity to make small amends. ‘Seeing as how it’s you,’ he said, and slid from his seat. He ordered another pint for himself and a gin and tonic with plenty of ice. As he watched his pint being pulled, he called Maureen on his mobile.
    ‘Thought I’d call,’ he said. ‘See if you wanted to come up and stay a few days in the cottage. Longer, if you’d like.’
    ‘I can’t.’
    Again, no explanation. He eyed his reflection in the mirror on the back wall, thought he looked disappointed. What had he expected? ‘It’s been a while,’ he tried. ‘You should take some time off. Get away from it all. Give yourself a break.’
    A pause, then, ‘Thanks, Dad. I’ll think about it.’
    He knew he could press no further. If he did, Maureen could retreat into that black hole of hers. He wanted to tell her that one day it would be so far in the past that it would mean nothing. But he wondered if it ever would. Defeated, he said, ‘Give me a call when you can,’ then told her he loved her and hung up.
    Back at the table, he noticed Gina on her third Marlboro. Or was it her fourth? The impulse to ask for one had him holding his pint with both hands, not trusting himself.
    ‘So, I have your approval?’ she said to him.
    Gilchrist tilted his pint, took a long mouthful.
    ‘As you said,’ she pressed on, ‘I don’t really need it. But it could work to your advantage.’
    Now she had him puzzled. ‘In what way?’
    ‘I would be more considerate about how I address your brother’s accident. I’d let you review the draft before it goes to print.’
    ‘You know my views on that.’
    ‘I do.’ She exhaled, smoke fogging her face, then narrowed her eyes. ‘Jack would have been fifty-four next May. The fifteenth.’
    Gilchrist studied his pint in silence.
    ‘He was killed by a hit-and-run driver,’