Page 91 of Playing By Ear

“Bit of a mystery.” Ferret Face turned, folded his arms, and spoke to the ceiling as though he was reminiscing on his own life. “One of the Canadian papers said it was a male model from Argentina.”

What to even say to that?

“So, how are you, Jimmy?” he asked.

“Sorry, dunno anyone by that name.” He winced inwardly. Everyone knew a Jimmy.

“I could save us time and ask your boyfriend if he knows Jimmy MacKray.”

Jamie kept his cool, no longer in surprised mode. “What boyfriend?”

“That yin over there with the pottery.”

No way Jamie would endanger Perry by admitting his importance. “That guy’s just a mate.”

“You always walk arm in arm with mates?”

“Aye, when they’re fucking blind, I do. What do you want?”

“I heard you were back with your family now.”

No point in denying it. “So?”

“So the Prince of Provanpark flounces out of his family’s house and then ten years later waltzes back in? Why?”

“Dunno, let me Google that for you.” Jamie opened a blank note on his phone and typed NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS. “Oh, here we go.” He showed his screen to Ferret Face.

The Coyle guy shrugged. “Word on the street says your da’s on his way out. That he wants you to take over.”

Jamie snorted. “Cool story.”

“Everyone knows you hate him, that there’s only one reason you’d step back into that house.”

“Aye, I need money.”

“You survive all these years on your own and now suddenly you cannae handle being skint? Something’s afoot.”

Afoot? Jamie had never heard that word outside a detective show. “I don’t work for him, and I never will.” He hoped his genuine vehemence would be convincing. “Why are you even talking to me? I’m naebody.”

Ferret Face edged closer and started rifling through the M rack. Jamie steeled himself not to move away.

“We need a trusted messenger,” the man said. “Tell your da: The day he dies, there’s gonnae be a war over his territory. That means the people of Provanpark—including his own kids—are gonnae get caught in the crossfire.”

Jamie held in a shudder. Martin MacKray’s weakness was out. It was daft to think they could keep a brain tumor secret.

“He needs to divvy up his territory,” Ferret Face continued, “equally between the Coyles, the Wilkies, and the Gilchrists. Any MacKray who wants to work for us, fine, and any who don’t want, fine also. Martin can leave enough cash for his family to be comfortable. But the trade, the supply lines, the customer bases—that goes to the rest of us. It’s the only way to keep the peace.”

Jamie bristled at the man’s tone. “Why can’t your boss tell Martin directly?”

Ferret Face rolled his eyes. “Cos he’s not got a death wish. Any move by us will feel like a threat your da needs to neutralize.” He kept sifting through the records. “But he might listen to you.”

“Not on business matters.”

The Coyle man’s hands stilled on the record edges. “Look, I know dads are hard creatures. Mine’s one of the worst.”

Maybe this guy wasn’t just an employee of the Coyle clan. Maybe he was one of the family.

Ferret Face continued. “Still, every hard man’s got a soft spot when it comes to his youngest kid. Your da’ll hear what you say, and even if he starts raging, he’ll think about it later, maybe even convince himself it was his idea.”