The Family Firm

Chapter 28

Katie could smell the sweat on his neck and felt sick to her stomach. She hadn't seen Liam Hutchins since school and hadn't planning on sleeping with him either, not that a quick shag in a grime-covered alley constituted as "sleeping" by her standards, but she had been completely out of her nut from the booze and by some work of Liam's natural charm, she'd ended up against the grimy brick wall with his massive form rutting against her.

She didn't feel drunk any more, and she was almost certain she was stepping in sick. Liam wasn't as good a shag as she'd thought he'd been, but then again her memory of him was clouded by both the fact that he'd been her first, and the anger she held towards him for cheating on her with that slag Kelly from the estate.

She actually didn't hate Kelly any more, not since she'd heard the tart already had three grubby little children and a fourth one still on the tit, and had gained enough weight from the ordeal that she looked around ten years older than she was. Of course, all of this was all tattle from Maggie, who had the tendency to embellish things, but Katie wanted to believe it and so she had.

She didn't really hate Liam any more either; in fact, he really didn't mean anything at all to her. He was her first boyfriend but there had been a few since, nothing that had panned out of course but as was life. She was young and she wasn't all that concerned with men, nor did she think she'd ever really be.

In any case, right about then she was starting to regret agreeing to a quick fuck. He wasn't hard on the eyes but he certainly wasn't any sort of Adonis, unless she was referring to the size of his endowment. Coupled with the dinginess of the alley, she was completely turned off and shoved his chest roughly.

'Get offa me. I'm goin' home.'

Liam shot her a look. 'What are you talking about? I ain't even done yet, like.'

'Yeah, well I am, so piss off, Liam. I ain't got time to chat with ya.'

She pulled away from him and made to leave, but he grabbed her by the upper arm and flipped her around to face him. They were both unsteady on their drunken legs, so even when Katie stumbled Liam was in no position to properly catch her. This made the move more aggressive than she knew he had intended it to be, but that didn't aggravate her any less.

'What else you got to do?' he asked, obviously annoyed. 'It's half three for fuck's sake. You're so fucking busy you can't even finish a shag?'

'I just don't feel like it, okay?' she said, her voice raising an entire decibel. 'Now fuck off before you start getting on me nerves.'

'Is there a problem over here?'

The thick Scottish brogue permeated the alley and startled both Liam and Katie, whose heads turned to spot the man it had come from. There, a few paces away stood a tall, olive-skinned man around the age of fifty with close-cropped brown hair and eyes the colour of cold northern water. He was wearing a long, grey double-breasted coat and smart-looking trousers; he was certainly a lot better dressed than any of the tacky young people still milling outside the Blue Room. It wasn't exactly the poshest club in London.

'Stay out of it, geezer. It ain't none of your business,' said Liam, and suddenly Katie was aware of how obnoxious his brash cockney sounded, almost as if he was doing some thug impression. 'Go on, fuck off.'

The Scot watched him with an amused expression before removing a small black booklet with his identification inside; a warrant card. 'Actually, I reckon it is my business, so really it's you that should be "fucking off", aye?'

Liam cursed under his breath and Katie wanted to smack him across the face for slagging off a copper. A seemingly-important one at that.

Knowing he had been beaten, Liam looked from the plain-clothes filth to Katie and said almost unintelligibly, 'I'll see you around, Kate.'

She watched him scuttle off like a petulant child, certainly embarrassed at his actions, and figured she should head home as well. But as she attempted to push past the officer, he held out his arm to prevent her from doing so.

'Are you all right, love?'

'I was until you got here,' was her automatic response, though truthfully she was thankful he had intervened. Liam had never really been more violent than anyone else, but she had no doubt in her mind that with the both of them as drunk as they were, a fight would have erupted. And Katie didn't hit like a girl; she would have clobbered the bastard.

Straightening out her denim skirt, she went on, 'I'd like to get home, if we're done here.'

She didn't wait for him to respond before stepping out of the alley and onto the pavement. A few steps away, however, the officer had turned to face her and called after her 'Don't you remember me?'

Katie screwed up her face. Just what she needed, a filth that knew her somehow. Nevertheless, she turned to face him despite herself and looked him over a moment or two.

'No.'

'Detective Inspector Robert Wallace,' said the Scot, extending his hand. 'I worked on the investigation with your mother.'

Katie's blood ran cold as a memory flashed past her mind. At first, she almost thought of her mother's death, but suspicious as she believed it to be it had been closed almost as soon as it was opened, as it had been ruled a suicide.

Then she remembered laying on the kitchen lino with her dog Spotty as her mum spoke with an officer in the front room. She was only around seven or eight years old at the time. One of Sara's boyfriends had left her in a bad way after a particularly violent fight. Katie was shrewd enough even then to know her mum would have never rung the Old Bill even though she'd had her nose done in and marks from that wanker's fingers digging into her neck, but one of the neighbours had phoned them out of concern from all the noise.

Sara told her early on that in her occupation she was accustomed to brutes like him pushing her around and asserting their masculinity; it was just the way things were. But she had never had a boyfriend around the house after that, and as far as Katie knew she'd never had a boyfriend since at all.

In any case, she wasn't sure how the DI had remembered her face, but she supposed geezers like him, especially Old Bill, had better memories than she had.

She hadn't said anything, and DI Wallace went on, 'I heard she passed away not that long ago. I was back in Glasgow then for a spell. But still, I'm sorry to hear that. I remember her well. We met more than a few times.'

'So you was shagging her,' assumed Katie, straightening her posture in a way that made her figure look boyish. She physically put up her defences whenever discussing her mum as a way to mentally cope with the stress the memories brought.

'No, no,' said Wallace, almost chuckling. 'I work close with the Toms. They're practically the eyes and ears of the street. Any wee bit of information you need, you can guarantee a Tom's heard it. Either them or the pikeys.'

Katie silently thought of her mum then and knew what he was saying was true. She'd heard plenty of things about the streets from the woman and also knew all that knowledge was up for the taking for the right amount of money. There wasn't much honour among thieves when you had children to feed.

Wallace took a breath and a step forward, but otherwise remained planted a few paces away from her. 'Do you live around here? I could give you a lift, if you like.'

'No,' she replied indignantly. 'I'm just fine on me Jack Jones, Detective Inspector.'

He smiled at her, but her expression didn't change. 'I cannae let you walk home pished, Katie love.'

She didn't like the affectionate way he spoke to her, and thusly closed off further, crossing her arms over her nearly-flat bust. 'One thing I learnt from me mum, Robert, is you don't trust a filth. So pish off.'

Without so much as another word, she whipped around, feeling more sober than she had all night, and stomped down the pavement, heels she still hadn't gotten used to wearing click-clacking against the cement. DI Wallace watched her leave, concluding that it wasn't worth the effort to follow her, but that he would be keeping a close eye on the girl from there on out.

If anything, it would ease his conscience.