Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

head. ‘Soda water and lemon.’
    ‘Driving?’
    ‘To Oban for a couple of days.’
    Gilchrist had forgotten Nance had applied for two days’ leave, which he’d not had the heart to refuse. Seated at a table in the back, away from the main entrance, they went through Nance’s notes together. With the skeleton now having a computer-generated image and a name, he redirected her efforts to having a copy placed on the evening news before she left, and further copies distributed around town. But all the while she seemed distant, as if she was only killing time with him.
    She lifted her drink, took a sip, glanced at her watch again.
    ‘Got an appointment?’ he asked.
    ‘Can we talk?’
    ‘We are talking.’
    ‘You know what I mean.’
    Gilchrist tried a smile, but he sensed what was coming. No Gina Belli to interrupt this time.
    ‘You know about me and John,’ she began.
    ‘Nice guy. Bit of a wandering eye, I have to tell you.’
    ‘Well, it’s wandered my way.’
    ‘I’ve noticed.’ He took a sip of beer. ‘Serious, is it?’
    ‘You could say.’ She gripped her glass with both hands, as if ready to squeeze the lemon through. ‘Look, Andy, I’ve enjoyed our time together, I really have. You’ve been nothing but a gentleman. And I wouldn’t want to hurt you in any way. But—’
    ‘I’m too old for you?’
    ‘I don’t see it that way.’
    Her answer surprised him. ‘What way do you see it, then?’
    She shook her black mane of loose curls, then fixed her gaze on him, her brown eyes pulling up memories of intimate moments. ‘I know this sounds crazy,’ she said, ‘but I’ve fallen for John.’
    ‘He’s handsome, all right. I’ll give him that.’
    ‘It’s more than looks.’
    Gilchrist didn’t like the sound of that. Ending their relationship he could understand, but laying it on thick was not how he imagined Nance would have done it.
    ‘He’s asked me to marry him.’
    Gilchrist waited a polite three seconds to let her think her words were taking time to be processed. But this was John’s modus operandi. As best as he could remember, it would be his fourth engagement. ‘How long have you known him? Two weeks?’
    ‘It’s not like that, Andy. This is different.’
    ’Sounds like a sprint, not a romance.’
    Nance lowered her eyes.
    He had not intended to be mean to her, and wanted to apologize. But how could he when she was intending to marry the office lech? He tilted his glass, chinked it against hers. ‘Here’s to you and John,’ he said. ‘’Til death do you part.’
    She returned his smile, but he could tell it was an effort. When she looked over his left shoulder and her eyes lit up, he knew without having to turn his head that the man of the moment had arrived.
    A hand clasped his shoulder. ‘Andy.’
    John’s voice was deep, strong and gentle at the same time, with a timbre trained to ease the knickers down a woman’s thighs at the first hello. Gilchrist had always thought it affected. He tilted his drink. ‘I hear congratulations are in order.’
    John smiled at Nance as if Gilchrist had not spoken.
    ‘Going to join us?’ Gilchrist asked, but Nance was already pushing herself to her feet with a determination that told him she could not wait to be out of his sight. She hesitated for a moment, as if remembering something, then slipped her hand into her jacket and removed a folded note.
    ‘Here,’ she said.
    Gilchrist shoved the note into his pocket.
    ‘We’re heading off,’ John announced. ‘Got a couple of days accrued.’
    ‘Hope the rain stays off,’ Gilchrist said. Not that it mattered, he supposed. He could not imagine John doing much sightseeing when he had Nance’s body to explore, all fresh and new to him. As Nance slid past, Gilchrist took hold of her arm. She looked down at him, but did not pull away. He leaned up to her. ‘Take care,’ he said, and gave her a peck on the cheek.
    He watched them in the mirror, Nance with her head tilted to John’s shoulder, John with his arm already around her, protecting her from dirty old men like Gilchrist. As they walked into the rain, he hoped she would not confess their relationship. That could be trouble.
    Thinking about trouble, he called Jack, but it rang out.
    He tried Maureen, and she surprised him by picking up.
    ‘Hello?’
    He could tell from the heaviness in her tone that she had just risen, or was drunk. ‘How are you, princess?’ he tried.
    ‘Hello? Who’s this?’
    ‘Mo. It’s me.