Lonie 60

Lonie got into work earlier than a milkman. He wanted a word with Davy and he didn’t want anyone else to be around. For a change they sat at Davy’s desk. As a news night editor it was situated in a corner of the newsroom. They had the nominal privacy of room dividers screening off the other desks. But there was only a cleaner sharing the newsroom, wearing yellow rubber gloves, bumping about, emptying bins and ashtrays.

Lonie had already smoked three Woodbine and was on his fourth. He was firing out one idea after another.‘How dae Ah find out if the other boys were poofs without upsettin’ their parents? Ah mean, their sons already dead, so he’s not liable to be dating anyone. ’ He glanced at Davy through a haze of fag smoke.

‘How am I meant to know?’ Davy had been unusually testy. ‘Maybe ask to see their record collection.’

‘How would that help?’

Davy was trying to give up smoking again and smoked a Menthol cigarette. ‘If there’s a lot of Judy Garland then it’s pretty much given.’

Lonie waved his finger at Davy and smirked. ‘We’re no’ talkin’ about your record collection.’

‘Fuck off.’ Davy’s face screwed up which made him look older. ‘I don’t even have a record player.’

‘Whit about…’ but Lonie scratched at the back of his neck and nipped at his fag. His head was an empty chime.

Davy flung out an idea. ‘Anniversaries are always good.’

‘Whit you mean the date of the killin’?’ Lonie put his feet up on the desk. ‘Can you no’ smoke something else, you’re stinkin’ the place up, makin’ it smell like a hospital.’

‘No I cannae.’ Davy stabbed his fag out on the ashtray on the desk. He picked at his teeth with a pen top, scraping at the plaque and frowning as he examined the white gunge. ‘No I don’t just mean that type of anniversary. I mean birthdays.’ He shrugged. ‘Christmas is always good to get folk talking and reminiscing about their past. Especially, if their boy has died.’

‘Whit do you mean, play it cool, ask them if their son preferred Ken or Barbie for Christmas?’

Davy’s fingers kneaded the muscles as he stretched the back of his neck back and forth. ‘You’ve got to lead them on, but allow them to talk.' He poked a finger in his ear and looked at Lonie sideways. ‘What about Valentine’s day?’

‘That’s a couple of months yet.’ Lonie speared out his fag in the ashtray, sick of smoking. ‘Whit about if Ah say we’re daeing a remembrance thing- for next year.’ He took his legs off the desk so the cleaner could reach across and empty the ashtray. Lonie watched her empty their bin into another bin from a desk close to them. She emptied the contents of both into a bigger bin she was wheeling about. ‘Whit if Ah ask about old Valentine’s cards. Say we’re thinking about making some kind of collage, tracking down the murder victim’s first loves.’ He looked across at Davy and could see in his face that the idea had caught fire.

Davy snatched the Menthol cigarette packet up off the desk and then placed it down again. He looked straight ahead at the wall, as if wearing a pair of horse blinkers. ‘You’ve got to be careful.’ He sighed and clucked his tongue. Clutching at the fingers on his knuckles with one hand, and squeezing, as if fanning heat into his hand with his thumb, he studied his fingers. His voice was measured. ‘Not just with the fatman. He’ll need to be watched. And whatever he does him upstairs…’ his eyes drifted upwards to the ceiling, hinting at the place where the Glasownian owner had a desk and controlling interest ‘…will sure to have a hand in it. He’s a Mason too.’

Lonie’s knee bumped against the desk. ‘How do you know that?’

Davy’s head dropped and he shook off his friend's naivety. ‘They're all Masons. And that other yin –Chief Inspector Bisset. He’s vicious. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of him.’ He looked across at Lonie. ‘He’ll put you down and fit you up as quick as look at you. I’ve seen it done.’

‘Don’t worry about me.’ Lonie spoke with bravado. ‘I never trusted a man that wears a uniform.’ He reached for his fags and his hand shook as he lit his fag.

Davy's hand disappeared beneath his desk. He shoved it down his cotton flannels and scratched his balls. He’d a quick surreptitious sniff of his fingers before he spoke. ‘You’ll need to keep feeding the fatman with little snippets that’ll keep him sweet.’ He reached for his Menthol fags, but his fingers stalled at the packet and carried on, upending Lonie’s packet and nicking one. He lit a fag and waited until Lonie had a fag in his gob, before he put his silver-plated lighter away. ‘What have you got for him so far?’

Lonie rocked up and down as he laughed partly at Davy’s stern face and partly because he was treating him in the same way he did when he’d first started in the newspaper game. ‘Ah’ve got Archie’s an angel. Archie was a beautiful child. Archie was taken from us too soon.’ His eyebrows shot up and he waved his left hand to explain. ‘Those are all quotes from his next door neighbour. A bit of an angel herself.'

‘Good.’ Davy dismissed him. ‘Goin’ write it up and have it on the fatman’s desk before he gets in. You’ll be front page again today. Phone Cardinal Robbins and get a quote, even if it’s no comment. See if you can get through to the secure unit and speak to Father Campbell.’

‘Fuck off, Ah’m no’ phonin’ Father Campbell. Ah hate usin’ phones and Ah’d rather explain in person.’

‘Fat chance. You’ve done a job on him.’ Davy blew smoke in Lonie’s direction. ‘The only way you’ll get near the secure unit now is if they lock you up inside it.’

Lonie knew he was joking, but his stomach reeled at the thought.

‘They might let Audrey in.’ Davy glanced at Lonie to gauge his reaction. ‘After all, her name wasn’t on any of the by-lines. You’re a celebrity now. You’ve went national. You could walk away from here tomorrow and get a job on a real paper. Questions are being asked in The House of Commons because of you.’ Lonie’s eyes shifted away from Davy's gaze as his words sunk home. ‘After all, she’s done nothing wrong.’ Davy laughed, but without any enthusiasm.