Ripped (31 page)

'I'll
frighten
away
the
customers,'
Standers
said.
He
patted
a
meaty
hand
on
the
folded
newspaper.
'Suppose
the
idea
got
about
that
somebody
was
topping
the
clients?
Like
you
were
saying
a
minute
ago
.
..
It's
even
better.
If
they
thought
it
was
a
whore
doing
it
–
who
could
a
man
trust?
It
would
put
the
notion
of
getting
on
the
job
out
of
your
head.'
And
he
smiled
like
a
man
sharing
a
joke.

At
last
it
seemed
to
Billy
Shanks
that
he
saw
the
light.
'That's
the
line
you
want
me
to
take
in
the
column?
That
the
murder
was
done
by
a
woman, and
that
it
might
happen
again.'

Standers
shook
his
head.
'I'm
not
telling
you
to
say
anything. You
know
I
don't
think
a
woman
did
it.
But
if –
for
the
sake
of
argument
–
you
took
that
line,
well,
it
would
help
to
keep
the
customers
away.
Keep
them
away
and
somebody
might
drop
a
hint.
And
if
the
brass
who
was
there
when
the
victim
died
gets
it
into
her
head
it's
her
we're
after
.
..
that's
pressure
too,
isn't
it?
She
comes
to
us
to
cover
her
own
back
–
or
he
starts
worrying
in
case
she
does.
It's
all
pressure.'

'It's
some
idea,'
Billy
Shanks
said,
keeping
his
tone
carefully
neutral.
'I'll
think
about
it.'

Standing
up,
the
Superintendent
looked
more
impressive,
a
heavy,
fleshy
man
with
the
big
frame
inherited
from
generations
of
agricultural
labourers.
He
laid
a
hand
on
Billy's
shoulder
as
he
walked
him
to
the
door.
'Remember,'
he
said,
'I'm
not
telling
you
to
say
anything.'

From
the
hall,
an
echoing
bustle
filled
the
room
suddenly
carrying
with
it,
pervasive
and
unforgettable,
that
stinging
smell
of
corruption
and
poverty
Billy
Shanks
had
thought
belonged
to
the
past.

'The
window
was
down,'
Murray
said,
'so
I
got
in
to
wait
for
you.'
He
had
explained
why
Standers
had
called
him
in,
and
now
he
was
explaining
how
he
had
got
into
the
car.

'I
put
it
down
because
of
the
heat,'
Shanks
said.

The
sun
beat
on
the
roof
of
the
car
and
there
was
no
wind
to stir
the
litter
scattered
across
what
would
once
have
been
the
children's
playground.
A
shirt-sleeved
detective
standing
on
the
school
steps
stretched
and,
yawning,
looked
across
the
yard
to
where
they
were
parked.

Murray
eased
one
buttock
off
the
clinging
warmth
of
the
plastic
seat.
'I
wouldn't
mind
if
you
wanted
to
drive
away.'

'Jesus!'
Shanks
said,
giving
no
sign
of
reaching
for
the
key
.
'That
was
the
headmaster's
room.
I've
stood
in
front
of
that
desk
as
a
kid.
I
got
the
belt
there
plenty
of
times.
I
was
too
tall;
it
was
easy
to
pick
me
out.'
He
scowled
.
'Pressure!
Did
I
tell
you
what
he
said
about
“pressure”?
Clown!
He's
a
clown.'

'You
told
me.
He
thinks
it's
going
to
be
another
Robertson case.
He
wants
you
to
make
him
famous,
Billy.'

'And
what
do
you
want,
Murray?'

'A
lift
into
town
–
when
you're
ready.'

'Now
you're
in
a
hurry,'
Shanks
said.
'You
sat
and
waited
till
I
came
out,
you
sat
and
listened
while
I
shot
my
mouth
off,
now
you're
in
a
hurry.
There's
something
about
this
story
.
..
Peerse
and
you.
Why
are
you
interested
in
it?'

'Peerse
can't
be
involved
with
it.
He's
not
free.
He's –'
Murray
stopped
abruptly.
Targetting
Blair
Heathers
,
he
had
been
going
to
say.
And
John
Merchant
.
..
and
my
brother
.
It
must
be
the
heat,
he
thought;
I've
been
sitting
too
long
here
in
the
heat.

'He's
what?'

'Can
we
go?
I'm
too
dry
to
spit.'

'Don't
bet
Peerse
won't
get
in
on
the
act.
If
that
clown
is
right
and
this
did
get
to
be
a
big
case,
Peerse
will
get
in
on
it
somehow –
like
a
blowfly
round
shite.'

'Big
case,
big
deal.
Somebody
killed
in
Moirhill
–
big
deal.
Nobody's
going
to
care.
You
don't
care,
Billy.
Whatever
you
told
Standers,
you're
not
going
to
write
about
it
again
in
your
column.'