Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [48]
Smith said, "I don't think so. I can handle this."
"I don't care," Effie said. "I have every right to carve that piece of shit into a dozen pieces."
"And so do I," the other bloke said. "I've lost a brother-in-law. Just about. Are you going to tell us what's been going on? I'd really like to know how Grant got involved with Tommy Savage."
"You know him?" Smith said.
"Yeah," the bloke said. "His brother slept with my mother."
"Did he?" Smith said. "Edinburgh's such a small place."
"No offence, but I don't buy that it's a coincidence."
"Look," Smith said, "an opportunity to make some money came along, Martin. It looked easy. Went tits up."
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"No need."
"Why Grant?"
"Okay," Smith said. "I knew about your connection to Savage. Did some asking around. Found out he was a suspect in your father's murder. I couldn't involve you in this cause I thought you'd be upset."
"Now I'm upset."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah," Martin said. "Well."
It was quiet for a while. Then: "So what are you going to do with him, Dad?" Effie said.
"Let me think about it."
The voices grew muffled. After a bit, the car door clicked open. The engine started and they were moving again.
Tommy was left to his own imagination.
This Martin bloke had to be Greg Milne's son. Tommy hadn't recognised him. Hadn't seen him in years, and he was thinner then. But Phil had slept with Martin's mother. And Tommy was a suspect in his dad's murder. It was him, all right. Had to be.
Tommy doubted that protesting his innocence would make any difference.
He just wished he knew what the fuckers were going to do to him.
***
WHAT MCCRACKEN HAD done was nothing in comparison with what the piece of shit in the boot was guilty of.
Tommy Savage was a dead man.
Only questions were when and how.
Effie and Martin had taken Liz back home with them from the hospital, leaving Park free to do what he must. Only, he didn't know what that was yet.
He didn't know where he was headed. Just knew he had to keep driving. Didn't want to stop because if he stopped he'd have to decide what to do with Savage. Watched the lines in the centre of the road, knew they were leading somewhere, like the lines on the floor at the hospital.
Keep driving. And work out what to do with the murdering bastard in the boot.
Wasn't easy.
Savage had fucked up by having Martin's dad killed. And now he'd killed Grant. And he'd probably get away with that too if it was left to the police to deal with.
Taillights up ahead. Getting closer. He eased off the accelerator.
The punishment had to fit the crime. Or, rather, the crimes. And that was the difficulty. Park thought about the money. Fifty grand, which he'd handed over to Effie for safe-keeping. He'd have been reasonably content with that twenty-four hours ago. Paid for top quality care for Liz for a year, plus enough left over to give Martin and Effie a decent wedding. Everybody would have benefited. And he could have gone back to Savage for more when they ran out.
But what he wanted now was for Savage to feel the way he felt. He wanted Savage to know how it felt to lose someone he loved. For starters.
An image of Grant sliced in half by a sheet of broken glass zapped into Park's head.
Buzzing in his brain. Ears ringing. He felt faint.
He lost control of the car for a second, swerved into the next lane. Just the blood. The thought of it. He knew that anything he arranged for Savage had to be just as messy. Which was why he needed help. Couldn't do it himself, much as he would have liked to.
Times like these he missed his mother.
Wondered how things might have been if she hadn't had her accident. The kids would have had another grandmother.
Park couldn't remember the incident at all. But from what was put together afterwards, it appeared his mother had tripped and fallen in the kitchen. Cracked her head open on the floor tiles. He was alone with her, three years old. She'd died instantly, so he was told. Certainly, she wouldn't have regained consciousness.
When they found young Andy Park, two weeks later, he was filthy