Read Online The Papers of Tony Veitch by William McIlvanney - Free Book Online Page A

itself.
    â€˜What’s up?’ Bob said.
    â€˜A few fruitless days for us. That’s what I think’s up. Jack thinks he’s going to find out whoever did in wee Eck Adamson.’
    â€˜Eck was murdered?’
    â€˜Jack seems to think so.’
    â€˜How?’
    â€˜Ask him . So it would be all right if he just keeps his eyes open and hopes for something to turn up. But not him. I feel an obsession coming on. And it’s hopeless, isn’t it? You might as well point to a snowstorm and say, “See that snowflake at the end of the road. Go and get it.” No chance. And you know what Jack’s like when he’s got a cause. Even a lost one. About as easy to ignore as a Salvation Army drum. He’s going to start putting everybody’s humph up. The Crime Squad’ll look like the Loch Ness monster.’
    â€˜They should be used to him by now.’
    â€˜Who gets used to Jack? You know what I mean. I like theman. I just wish somebody would give him a lorry-load of Valium for his Christmas.’
    Laidlaw brought Harkness’s lager and a whisky for Bob and sipped his lime-juice and soda. Bob decided to help Harkness.
    â€˜Eck was murdered?’ Bob asked.
    Laidlaw nodded.
    â€˜Pulmonary fibrosis. Suspected paraquat poisoning.’
    â€˜Paraquat? Come on,’ Bob said. ‘If it’s paraquat, what makes you think it was murder? Eck had a thirst that wouldn’t have stopped at horse’s piss. As discriminating as a public lavvy. He would find it and drink it. That’s all. How can you say it was murder?’
    â€˜It was something he said.’
    â€˜Jack! You knew Eck. He made Pat the Liar sound like George Washington. You’re not serious. You can’t put any weight on that.’
    â€˜I think I can. He said something about “the wine he gave me wisny wine”. I think somebody gave him a bad present.’
    â€˜How do they know?’ Bob asked. ‘Did they find paraquat in him?’
    â€˜No. It would’ve worked itself out by then, I suppose. I think he’d had it for a wee while. But it causes what they call proliferative changes.’
    â€˜What is that?’ Harkness said.
    â€˜I’m not sure. I think it means that even after the stuff’s gone, the damage caused goes on multiplying itself. I suppose it’s the exact nature of the damage that suggests paraquat. Not a nice way to go.’
    â€˜You saw him?’
    Laidlaw nodded.
    â€˜All right, Jack,’ Bob said. ‘So he had a bad time. You’re sorry, but sorriness is no kind of substitute for common sense. Get a grip, will you? Learn to settle for doing the things you can do.’
    â€˜Right Bob,’ Laidlaw said. ‘I think I’ve had enough of the Police College notes from Brian already. You think I don’t know? If you want to commit the perfect crime, just a crime for the sake of a crime. What do you do? Wipe out a wino. Right? For two reasons: who cares? Indifference coming at you like a river. And you trying to swim up it. Second: to solve a crime, you check with neighbours, family, friends. Who’s a wino’s friend? Another wino. Like cross-examining an answering service. Neighbours? Pigeons. Family? If they’re not in the Eastern Necropolis, they’re keeping quiet enough to be there. You can depend on it. What was the sequence of events? Who the hell knows? As predictable as a pin-ball. And there’s always the feeling that it might just have been a fun crime. A fly-swatting job. It’s as if you’re jay-walking in Hope Street. In the middle of the road you find a fly with its wings torn off. You’re going to track down the culprit? I know, Bob. I know.’
    â€˜Then why the hell don’t you accept it?’
    â€˜Why the hell do you? I don’t know what you feel about this job. But it fits me as comfortably as a hair-shirt. All right, I do it. Because sometimes I get to feel it