Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [34]
"Half-arsed job," Phil told him. "No way."
"I tell the police," Carlos said.
"Tell them what?"
"Thomas Savage hires a man to kill Greg Milne."
Phil smiled. "What makes you think I'm Thomas Savage?"
"Your car. When we meet first, I have it checked. Registered to Thomas Savage."
"Okay." Phil paid the man. Let him believe his lie. It was Tommy's money, anyway. Phil had nicked it to set up Milne. Easy. The fucker shouldn't have hit Jean. Could have broken her jaw.
***
PHIL NEVER SLEPT with Jean again. She was convinced Tommy'd had her husband killed. Phil was a reminder, so she said. He looked nothing like Tommy and pointed that out. They did try. A couple of times. But it didn't work for either of them. She had some kind of breakdown, not for the first time. He wanted to help. He made her worse, she said.
***
OUTSIDE THE PUB, Phil pulled into a parking space.
He looked around, checked his watch. He was early.
Even so, there were lights flashing at him from a Ford Escort van.
He tossed his last bottle of beer onto the pile and climbed out of the car. A bit unsteady on his feet. Drink'll do that. He walked over to the van pretty much in a straight line. Could always sober up when he had to.
Martin Milne reached across, opened the door. He didn't look like his dad.
Phil got in. "You know where Tommy is?"
"Patience," Martin said. Drank beer from a bottle. "We're going to Fraser's. Need to speak to your nephew, too."
Fair enough. Speak to Fraser about his dad. Phil hadn't said a word. Not cause he was scared of Smith, just didn't want Fraser phoning the cops. Couldn't trust the spoiled prick. Hadn't spoken to Mum either. She didn't want to. She was still pissed off with Tommy for buggering off. Two weeks was a long time, right enough. But it was fine with Phil. Meant he had less explaining to do.
Phil slotted home his seatbelt and stretched his legs. "Not scared I'll hurt you?" he asked Martin.
"You won't."
"You're sure of that?"
"Mum said you were cool," Martin said. "Not like your brother. I'm no threat to you. You're none to me. That right?"
Phil nodded. Martin had asked as much on the phone. Had Jean told him?
"Keep it a secret," she'd said.
"Why?" Phil had wanted to know.
"My husband's just been murdered. How do you think it'll look?"
She'd had a point. Phil never told anyone other than Tommy.
"How is your mum?" Phil asked.
"Good." Martin reached over the half-height steel partition behind the seats and produced a carrier bag that clanked in a promising kind of way. "Help yourself," he said.
In the bag were half a dozen bottles of beer. Way to go. "Don't mind if I do," Phil said. "You want another?"
"I'm fine."
Phil opened the bottle and took a sip. Tasted like shit. Foreign crap. Couple of sips later, though, it wasn't so bad. He raised the bottle to Martin.
Big guy, Milne's son. Could easily go to fat. He needed to take care of himself. Wore that cravat thing round his neck. Drove very carefully. Came across like a bit of a nonce.
But still, Phil wasn't looking forward to having to kill him.
He couldn't think of anything to say. He downed more beer. Needed it. He watched the scenery, the pretty lights out of focus. Felt good, though. He had a nice buzz going. Couple more long pulls. Yeah. Nice.
Tired. So fucking tired. Hadn't slept properly for ages. Not like him at all. Tommy was missing. His little brother was missing. Phil shouldn't have let that happen. "We going to be long?" he asked.
"Twenty minutes?"
Time passed.
Phil felt the beer bottle slide out of his fingers. It rolled over his leg. Dropped to the floor with a thud.
"Whoa!" Martin said.
Phil mumbled, "Just beer."
"You want to pick it up?"
He couldn't. No way. He was far too tired. "Just leave it, eh? Nearly empty, anyway."
Martin shrugged.
"I'll grab fifty winks." Phil smiled at him. "Wake me up when we get there, eh?"
***
"YOU ASLEEP?" MARTIN asked Phil Savage a couple of minutes later.
No sooner had he said he was going to catch some sleep than Savage had slumped