Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

from the weather or the drink, a real-life farmer’s daughter if ever there was one.
    ‘Andy Gilchrist,’ he replied.
    She gave a short intake of breath. ‘Of Fife Constabulary?’
    ‘The very same.’
    A pause, then, ‘Why are you calling?’
    He thought her voice sounded nervous. ‘Just want to ask a few questions.’
    ‘What about?’
    Her answer seemed too quick, almost defensive. ‘Do you remember Kelly Roberts?’ he tried.
    ‘Who?’
    ‘When you went to university, you shared a flat with Rita Sanderson and Lorena Cordoba.’
    ‘Yes . . .’
    ‘So you remember?’
    ‘That’s going back a bit.’
    Gilchrist thought silence his best response.
    ‘So, who was Kelly?’ she asked.
    ‘You took over her room when she left.’
    ‘Never heard of her.’
    Not quite the answer he expected. He was almost certain Megs would have noticed Kelly around town. Few Americans attended St Andrews University back in the sixties, and with Kelly’s blonde looks and American accent, she would have stood out. Maybe Megs had known Kelly by sight, not by name. But that thought, too, seemed flawed. The local news had been full of the skeleton discovery, with Kelly’s computer image being shown on national TV. It seemed unbelievable that Megs would be so clueless.
    ‘Do you remember Lorena Cordoba?’ he tried.
    ‘That little dago bitch?’
    Her change in mood almost threw him. ‘And her boyfriend?’
    ‘Why would I know her boyfriend? Come on . . .’
    ‘Didn’t you go out with him?’
    ‘Oh. Now I remember. Are you talking about Wee Johnnie?’
    Her response seemed too fast, too glib, but he scribbled down the name. ‘Could be,’ he said. ‘What’s his surname?’
    ‘Walker.’
    For someone who had denied knowing Lorena’s boyfriend two breaths ago, Megs displayed remarkable recall. ‘Aren’t you getting his name confused with a whisky?’
    ‘That’s why I remember it. His name was Wee Johnnie Walker. And
wee
fitted the bill, if you get my meaning.’
    ‘What did Lorena do when you started going out with Johnnie?’
    ‘Do?’
    ‘You’d moved into her flat, stolen her boyfriend—’
    ‘Is that what she told you? Well you can tell that little tramp that Johnnie wanted a woman, not a Mexican bimbo.’
    Megs had never been a mincer of words. He remembered that, too.
    ‘Did your relationship with Johnnie last long?’
    ‘Long enough.’
    ‘For what?’
    ‘Use your imagination.’
    Gilchrist did, but it was not a pleasant image. ‘It sounds to me like it was an acrimonious ending.’
    ‘Not for me. I was glad to see the back of him.’
    Gilchrist wondered if it wasn’t the other way around. ‘How long did you stay in the flat?’ he asked.
    ‘End of the year. Then I left.’
    ‘Graduated?’
    ‘That’d be the day.’
    ‘You jacked it in?’
    ‘Couldn’t stand it any more.’
    ‘Where did you go?’
    Megs seemed to give his question some consideration. ‘What’s my leaving uni got to do with Kelly?’ she finally asked.
    He thought the first-name familiarity odd. But Megs had already shown how good her memory could be. ‘Just wondering if you ever saw Wee Johnnie again?’
    ‘Not a chance. Wasn’t interested.’
    ‘I think you’ve been helpful in answering my questions,’ he said. ‘If I think of anything else, I’ll give you a call.’
    He was about to hang up when Megs said, ‘Are you looking for Wee Johnnie?’
    ‘Do you know where he is?’
    ‘Haven’t a clue. But would a photograph help?’
    Gilchrist pressed the phone to his ear, intrigued by her sudden enthusiasm. ‘Do you have one?’
    ‘I’ll have a look-see,’ she said, and gave him her address. ‘If you want to come by and pick it up.’ Before he could tell her to deliver it to the office, she said, ‘See you soon, Andy.’
    Gilchrist hung up to what sounded like laughter. He picked up the photograph of Lorena with her boyfriend. Was that Wee Johnnie Walker? Maybe Megs’ photograph would confirm that.
    Somehow, the thought of visiting Megs for an ID did not appeal to him, but if doing so could clear Jack’s name, then what choice did he have? A face-to-face with her might reveal some more of the past, but having Stan do more legwork for him could give him a heads-up for the visit. He flipped open his mobile.
    ‘Long time,’ joked Stan.
    ‘As well as Brian Fletcher,’ Gilchrist began, ‘I need you to track down Johnnie Walker.’
    ‘Any clues?’
    Gilchrist gave Stan what little he had, and