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‘What the fuck are you doing in here, Galbraith? And that’s my bloody tuna,’ said Slattery, placing his tray on the table and tossing his breakfast bag on his bed.
‘Bit hungry, Jacky boy. You’ve plenty, and Shorty didn’t think you’d mind.’ He smiled as he shovelled in another forkful, moving the jagged edge of the lid to one side to allow access to the last of the meat.
‘You cheeky bastard, who the hell do you think you are, man?’ Slattery said, bristling with anger, his face flushing, but a knot of fear forming in his gut. He knew nothing of Galbraith other than him being a lifer from Aberdeen. He was a big lad, full of muscles, and with that hard, grizzled look of someone who’d seen his share of life.
‘Jack, old son. You worry too much, I’ve a message to deliver, the tuna was just a bonus whilst I was waiting. I got peckish.’
‘A message?’
‘Aye, an important one, from an old pal of yours.’
‘Well, tell me the message and fuck off. And you owe me a can of tuna.’
‘Fair enough.’ Galbraith stood and smiled. He was utterly relaxed, with an amused look on his meaty face. Slattery didn’t notice what he was holding in his hand until the sock, containing two further cans of tuna, flew through the air, propelled with massive force, until it connected with his temple, dropping him to the floor like a collapsing shop dummy. Sparks flew in his head, like fireworks, and his vision began to darken.
A voice emerged into the darkness. ‘Droopy sends his regards, Jack,’ said Galbraith as the wickedly sharp and jagged tuna can lid was sliced across his windpipe, and warm blood exploded from his carotid artery.
18
MAX STEPPED OUTof the shower and began to towel himself dry, his thoughts whirring after the conversation with Bruce. Could it really be that Hardie would help the cops? Stranger things had happened, but it didn’t feel right at all. Not snitching was in the Hardie DNA, but he was forced to accept that he had nothing to base that on other than his prejudice against the family.
He was pulling on his jeans when Nutmeg flew into the bedroom, tail thrashing wildly and jumping on the bed, trying to leap into Max’s arms.
‘Hey, Nutty, settle down, eh?’ he said, tickling her ears.
‘Hey, mister, you’re home early. Is this some kind of miracle?’ said Katie, coming into the bedroom dressed in her business suit.
‘Rest of the week off,’ he said, kissing her on the mouth.
‘What? As in leave?’ she asked incredulously.
‘Sort of.’ Max’s voice was slightly hesitant.
‘You’ve not been suspended or something again, have you?’ she said, puzzlement in her eyes.
Max laughed. ‘Why would I be suspended?’
‘Well, sudden, unexpected leave is hardly the norm, is it?’ she said, stripping off her jacket and slotting it on a hanger.
‘Well, not exactly. We’ve been caning the hours.’
‘Don’t I know it; I was thinking of calling missing persons.’
‘Aye, well. DCC sent us all home, plus there’s some rumours about one of the Hardie boys in prison.’
‘What kind of rumour?’ Katie’s eyes widened in alarm. The Hardie name always had that effect.
‘Ach, it’s nothing,’ said Max, pulling his T-shirt over his head.
‘Max?’ said Katie.
‘He’s getting out of jail about an unsolved murder.’
‘What, voluntarily?’
‘Supposedly.’
‘Is that credible?’
