Bitter End Part 19

'I thought it would be.'

'So, you're not disappointed. Let me in, I'm desperate for the loo.'

Buchanan did as he was told, and stood aside as she flashed past him into the bathroom. Selina, her welcoming dive thwarted by this turn of speed, dropped on to Buchanan's shoulder instead as though that was what she had intended doing all along. He carried her into the kitchen and gave her a Kitty Kake to console her while he made some coffee.

When he returned to the lounge he could hear Fizz still running taps in the bathroom and he suspected she was doing her regular stocktaking of the johnnies in the medicine cabinet. Fortunately, he had remembered to remove one or two since the last time she was here, just to keep her guessing.

When she walked into the lounge he saw her eye fall on the piles of junk, all of which had surfaced, in the usual mysterious way, since Dolores, his cleaning lady, had done her bi-weekly mucking out yesterday. Pausing in the doorway, she put her hands on her hips and regarded him kindly.

'Ever wonder if there's something wrong with your Feng Shui, Buchanan?'

He swept the room with a glance, which was, if the truth were told, the first time he'd swept it with anything.

Housekeeping was not his forte but it never had been and Fizz had hitherto resisted commenting on the fact. 120. 'It's no worse than usual,' he said, sounding more plaintive than he had intended.

'Buchanan, it's like a Bombay public toilet in here.

Don't you ever put anything away?'

'That's what I pay Dolores for,' he said, but obviously that didn't please her either so he waved a hand at the full mugs and added, 'You want some coffee?'

'You always did know how to get round me, you s.e.xy beast. Where's the biscuits?'

'You don't have time for a biscuit.'

'I'll make time.'

Buchanan got the biscuit tin. 'So, to what do I owe this pleasure?'

Fizz took three biscuits and fell on to the couch. 'I just thought you'd like to know how Giles and I got on last night.'

'If you really want to share it with me,' Buchanan said, hiding the tightness in his chest behind a brave smile. 'But don't feel you have to go into the gory details.'

Fizz made a rude noise. 'That'll be the day!'

'Does that mean,' Buchanan had to insist, albeit lightly, 'that'll be the day when you tell me the gory details, or that'll be the day when there are any to tell?'

She shook her head, her mouth full of biscuit, and kept him waiting for an answer while she chewed and swallowed.

Even then, all she said was, 'Giles and I are just ships that go b.u.mp in the night.'

And that, Buchanan thought, could have been either a Freudian slip or simply her way of dodging the implied question, and either way he didn't find it particularly amusing.

'The bad news,' Fizz pressed on, replenishing her stock of biscuits, 'is that n.o.body could tell us where Poppy had gone. Giles did a reasonable job on the receptionist, who bust a gut for him, but she wasn't able to find anyone who could give us a forwarding address.'

Buchanan had never been hugely hopeful about that 121. lead but he was in a mood to be disappointed. 'So gimme the good news.'

'Well, it's not earth-shattering,' Fizz admitted, fulfilling his expectations, 'but, who knows, it might turn out to be useful.'

'Uh-huh?'

'Somebody remembered Poppy being picked up by a guy in a Ford Ka. A guy in his thirties. Who might that have been?'

That's it? That's the good news?' Buchanan said bleakly.

That's the best I have for you today, muchacho.' She flapped an uncharitable hand at Selina who was regarding her chocolate biscuit with open but misguided optimism.

'It's not a lot but it's better than a poke with a sharp stick.

No doubt you've been forging ahead with guns blazing.

Yes?'

Buchanan, this morning, was not immune to her sarcasm.

It seemed to him that his life was falling apart, that the stars were aligned against him, that his destiny was in the lap of the G.o.ds and they were about to stand up.

'I met Ian Fleming for a quick drink on Thursday night but he was no further forward. Obviously, he's getting no help whatsoever from the Hawick branch so he's planning to approach the matter from Lawrence Gra.s.sick s direction: starting, that is, from the a.s.sumption that Gra.s.sick is guilty of topping his wife.'

The tip of Fizz's tongue appeared, capturing a crumb from the corner of her lips.

'Starting where, exactly?'

'Starting with the usual lines of inquiry: establishing Gra.s.sick's whereabouts that weekend, tracing the origin of the heater, who sold it, who actually bought it. That sort of thing. He thinks he may be able to get some information out of a Mrs Hewlett who acts as housekeeper in Gra.s.sick's Edinburgh house.' Buchanan couldn't help showing his distaste at Fleming's methods. 'Apparently, Fleming has discovered that Mrs Hewlett's elderly mother 122. was in trouble for shoplifting a few years back -that's the price you pay for having a name that sticks in a copper's mind -so he is banking on the fact that she didn't share that fact with her boss.'

Fizz grimaced back at him. 'Blackmail is a fact of life, Buchanan. It's merely a useful tool for simplifying the process of decision-making, that's all. As long as he gets something worthwhile out of it he's got my blessing.'

Buchanan knew better than to start another of their regular arguments about the end justifying the means. He said, 'In the meantime I'm going to widen our own field of inquiry. It's possible we've been concentrating on the wrong aspects of Lawrence Gra.s.sick's life.'

'What other aspects are there?' Fizz wondered.

'Well, his political life for a start. I don't know just how much power he wields in Holyrood, or in what fields, but I know somebody who can tell me. There could be a whole can of worms there waiting to be uncovered.'

Fizz didn't appear to be overly excited by that prospect.

She patted a yawn. 'Okay. You do that. Me, I have a yen to make the acquaintance of Mr Menzies senior. If he's anything like his wife -and after fifty-odd years of marriage most couples have become a composite of the two original partners -he'd be just the boyo to put out a contract on Vanessa. Somebody ought to check him out. I can tell him I'm a social worker, or something.'

'Honesty's the best policy, Fizz--'

'Yes, but it isn't the only policy,' Fizz returned with strained patience. 'If you want to tag along I've no objection.

It'll be a waste of time as far as the evictions are concerned but, if he's in his dotage, who knows what he might let slip? This afternoon suit you?'

Buchanan shrank back into his chair. 'This afternoon?'

'Only, I have to get my library books back before the library closes,' she said, bouncing to her feet. 'Never mind, I'll scoot up there now and come straight back. We can have a sandwich or something and go straight over to

123. what's their address? Blackett Place, isn't it? I reckon we'll have milked him white in under an hour.'

'Actually,' Buchanan said firmly, 'I was planning a round of golf this afternoon.'

She paused with one arm in her jacket. 'I thought you were frantic to get this business tied up before Lawrence Gra.s.sick whipped a restraining order on you?'

There was no denying that, Buchanan had to admit, and no recourse other than to ditch his plans for the afternoon and go along with hers. He made the necessary phone call, half hoping that Mr Menzies would be unavailable, but even that was denied him. It was all for the best, he supposed, particularly since it was starting to rain again, but, still, he could have done without Fizz's tireless enthusiasm.

He made some cheese sandwiches and opened a can of tomato soup while she was gone, thereby exhausting both his store cupboard and his culinary expertise. Luckily, Fizz was more a gourmand than a gourmet and scoffed her share, plus half of his, without comment. Given her current carping mood he half expected her to ask what had become of his recently voiced intention of improving his diet, but she appeared to have reverted to her usual stance of nonintervention.

She was less than complimentary about the stag's head in the back of the car but Buchanan could empathise with that since he, too, was being stabbed in the back of the neck by the antlers every time he braked.