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.‘All right, Jen?’‘Hi, Dunky,’ came a female voice from behind Parlabane, the woman passing her respects as she waited for her change and for her pint of Eighty Shilling to settle.Parlabane was side-on to the bar, facing Duncan, and so without turning round inquisitively, he was unable to make out more than the edge of a woollen cap and a strong but delicious whiff of perfume.From the corner of his eye he was aware of her taking a long, slow pull at her pint, then heard her sigh with satisfaction.‘Tough day?’ Duncan said to her over Parlabane’s head.‘You don’t want to know,’ she said breathily, then reached for the life-giving heavy again.‘So who’s your pal, big man?’ she said, moving around Parlabane on his left just as he turned right to introduce himself.‘Sorry, Jen, this is Jack,’ Duncan was saying as Parlabane turned back round, his much-practised, usually affected (but not today), weather-weary-but-winning smile giving way to blank disbelief when he realised who he was being introduced to.‘Jack, this is Je.’‘DC Dalziel,’ Parlabane stated, looking very sternly at Duncan.‘I’d consider it a magnanimous gesture if you’d call me Jenny,’ she said, offering a hand.Parlabane gripped the outstretched fingers and couldn’t help but laugh.‘Jack,’ he smiled.‘Grab a stool.’That morning, Dalziel had seemed to be dressed with severity of impact in mind, but tonight she was a bright kaleidoscope of reckless and frequently conflicting colours, apart from the black woollen cap atop her closely-cropped head.A tiny diamond indeed glinted on one side of her nose as he had predicted, and although it was one of the few such ornaments that he didn’t find clumsy and unattractive, it still made him slightly squeamish.Parlabane almost passed out with pain when he accidentally plucked a nose-hair.The thought of ramming a needle through there was like chewing tin foil.‘It’s not his fault.I never told him what I do for a living,’ Jenny explained.‘Well what the hell do you guys talk about in here?’‘Not everyone is quite as job-obsessed as you, Jack,’ Duncan said in defence.‘We talk about football, for instance,’ Jenny offered.‘Oh, you talk about football with un-job-obsessed Duncan, the football reporter?’‘You have to forgive him, Jen,’ Duncan said, getting up.‘I’m afraid he tends to get a bit nippy after being arrested in his Y-fronts.’‘I was not arrested.And they were not Y-fronts.Where are you going?’Duncan quickly finished off his pint.‘Excuse me a wee minute.I just spotted someone through the window.I’m off to see a man about a man.’Through the glass they saw him cross the road and head into the Buzz Bar of the Blue Moon Cafe opposite.‘Call of nature,’ Jenny muttered.‘Hmm?’‘Le Gay Café.’‘Oh, is it.’‘Used to be the Pink Triangle.Weren’t the Eighties a time of subtlety.’‘Is that why you never told him you were a cop?’‘He never asked.’‘That’s not the point.’‘And that’s none of your business.’Parlabane held his hands up.‘Fair enough.’He sipped at his tomato juice and winced slightly.The barman had been sufficiently liberal with the Tabasco that it burnt the palate more than straight whisky.‘I’ll grant you, off-duty you don’t look like a cop.’‘I’ll consider that a compliment.’‘Yes, but then are you off-duty?’‘Don’t get paranoid, Mr.Jack.I’m not checking you out.’‘Bet you pulled my file though, didn’t you?’She gave a mischievous grin.‘Of course.Standard procedure.Two court appearances for charges of breaking and entering.No convictions, thanks to no material evidence.Did you do them?’He smiled.‘What, are you wearing a wire?’‘Well, as I’m not about to bare my chest to you you’ll have to take my word for it that I’m not.’‘I trust you.Yes and no.Yes I entered, but I never break and I never take.’‘You never broke, you mean.Those two times, the only times.’‘Of course.’‘I mean, it’s not like you’re the kind of person who is so experienced at such criminality that – if you locked yourself out, say – you would try and climb in from someone else’s flat rather than ask the police for help.’She finished her pint and gestured in a familiar fashion to the young woman behind the bar for a refill.‘So what were you looking for?’‘Nothing.And I was trying to get back into.’‘Not today.I meant when you “entered but did not break"?’‘Documentation, usually.Records, files.I never remove the stuff, just shoot copies.Proof.Evidence.Helps stand up your story, keeps the libel lawyers at bay.’‘Not exemplary journalistic practice.’‘I didn’t say I was an exemplary journalist.Although unlike most these days I prefer to find a real story rather than create one from an out-of-context quote or a grotesque exaggeration.’‘Aye, you’re a real hero.Spare me the sermon, scoop.How do you explain where these documents came from when you write your story?’‘They were “leaked”.They “fell into our hands”.These phrases sound familiar?’Dalziel shook her head.‘You know, if we acquired evidence that way, you’re precisely the sort of person who would be leading the outcry about it.’‘Now you can spare me the sermon,’ Parlabane said [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]