are ye kidding, missis?’ he complained, not so civil now. ‘You know damn fine what Sammy was up to the Thursday night afore he was killed.’
‘He was up to no good if I know him,’ she snapped. ‘He always was up to no good.’
‘He was up to a lot of good that night,’ the stranger smiled again. ‘And he saw your man on the Friday morning afore he went to Edinburgh. You know that, don’t you?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t,’ she snubbed him. ‘I can assure you my man wanted as little to do as possible with his brother even if they was twins.’
‘Did Hamish no’ tell you what he did with it all?’ he kept at her.
‘All what?’ she asked impatiently. ‘I’ve got my work to go to, I can’t stand here wasting time talking to you, when I don’t even know who you are anyway.’
‘I’ve told you who I am,’ he said, his hands out with the palms up. ‘I’m one of Sammy’s crowd. It was me drove the car, and I got nothing for it. No, he tells me to wait, just wait. It’ll be all right in a month or two. Then he goes and gets killed and here’s me still waiting. Somebody must know. You must know. Because Sammy saw your man right after it.’
‘I assure you I don’t know,’ she insisted, very dignified with him, talking with a bogus accent to let him know she was a respectable woman who knew nothing of her criminal brother-in-law. ‘I can assure you I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
She looked towards the gate and wondered if she could run that far and get into the school before this strange man assaulted her.
‘Don’t give us that,’ he said roughly, his palm lightly under her elbow, ready to clutch her if she moved. ‘Youmust know. Look, Sammy was coming back from Edinburgh when he had that smash, wasn’t he? And he’d been to see the jelly-man, hadn’t he? Don’t argue. I know. And he gave him fifty quid on account, but that was in fivers from another from another bank. So he’s still waiting too. The bloke with him that was killed, he went inside with Sammy, but he had nothing on him when he was killed. There’s nobody had nothing. So where is it? It’s a hell of a lot of money to be lying about.’
‘If you’re trying to insinuate that my brother-in-law stole some money and gave it to my husband to keep for him, you’re mistaken,’ Mrs Phinn locuted at him. ‘And I can assure you I know nothing about any money. Do I look as if I had anything to do with money? Do you think I’d be out here at this time in the morning going to sweep floors if I had any money?’
‘That’s no’ the point,’ he countered. ‘You couldny use the kind of money I’m talking about. It would only scare folk like you. You wouldny know whit to do wi’ it. All you’ve got to do is tell me what Sammy fixed up wi’ Hamish and I can take it off your hands and give you plenty o’ money you’d be glad to use.’
‘Money, money, money!’ she cried. ‘I’ve told you. If you’re trying to tell me Sammy Phinn passed a lot of money to my man you’re up the wrong close. As a matter of fact many’s the time my Hamish lent his brother money, money he never got back.’
‘Oh aye, they were thick,’ the stranger granted. ‘Your man was good to his twin. Sammy told me that himself.’
‘Aye, they were twins but quite different,’ Mrs Phinn said proudly. ‘My Hamish was a good man. He was never the gambler and the drinker and the thief his brother was. It was Sammy broke old Granny Phinn’s heart. In and out of jail, in and out of jail.’
‘Look, missis,’ said the stranger aggrievedly. ‘Stop kidding me. You know fine it was Sammy did the Finnieston bank that Thursday.’
Mrs Phinn let out a little scream and her rough hand went to her flat chest and then fluttered to her mouth in alarm. ‘Sammy Phinn never did a bank in his life,’ she cried. ‘He wouldn’t dare. Wee sweetie-shops and pubs was his level. A bank! He could no more have did a bank than fly in the air.’
‘He did that one all right,’ the stranger answered. ‘The sweetie shops and the pubs all went to experience, missis. A man’s got to learn. He took a year working on it. Got it organized.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Mrs Phinn.
‘He brought out forty-five thousand pound,’ the stranger bashed on, clutching her elbow now though she was too shocked to move. ‘He had it in two suitcases and there wasn’t more than three quid in his pocket the day he was killed. It’s a lot o’ money, missis. It canny just have walked.’
‘I’m sorry I can’t help you,’ Mrs Phinn panted. She was frightened. ‘I never knew a thing about forty-five thousand pound, I can tell you that. And what’s more I don’t want to know about it. I’d rather have a clear conscience and my night’s sleep than all your money.’
‘You keep your conscience and I’ll rest content wi’ the money,’ the stranger bargained. ‘The point is I haveny got it. I think you’ve got it. Sammy had it all in two suitcases when I drove the car away that night. But we couldny stop and divide it at Anderston Cross at two o’clock in the morning, could we? Sammy said we was just to wait till things got quiet. He got out of the car at the Saltmarket and I know he took a taxi your way. I heard him. He went to see Hamish wi’ the money. The next thing I hears he’s deid and there’s nae money on him. Nothing in the bank, nothing in the post-office, nothing in his digs. Missis, this is serious. Hamish must have said something to you.’
‘No, I’m afraid you’re wrong,’ Mrs Phinn told him sincerely. She was beginning to think the man was mad, and she felt less frightened. He could be humoured. ‘Hamish never mentioned that kind of money to me, and I can assure you—’
‘You’re a bloody assurance society, you are!’ the stranger interrupted her peevishly. She was sure there was a mad look in his eyes the way he glared at her.
‘Yes, I can assure you,’ she sailed on, not at all put out by his rudeness. She was used to the way Percy talked to her. ‘I can assure you my man wasn’t the sort of man to get mixed up in bank robberies. Bank robberies! For goodness sake! Huh-hm!’
She gave one of her special snorts, the violent kind that jarred Percy’s nerves.
They glowered at each other, neither yielding, and Mrs Phinn jerked her elbow free from the stranger’s clutch.
‘Why don’t you just go home and go to your bed?’ she suggested. ‘You’ve been watching the telly too much.’
‘Oh, Jesus Christ!’ the stranger cried in pain. He seemed on the point of weeping.
‘Now, I don’t like blasphemy,’ said Mrs Phinn. ‘I’m not accustomed to it. If you must swear go and swear somewhere else.’
The stranger stared at her, shaking his head sorrowfully, and she was sure she saw tears glisten in his crafty eyes.
‘Missis, are you mad?’ he whispered. ‘Come on, don’t act it! This is serious. I’m only talking to you for your own good. I was just the driver but I’m entitled to my share. I’ll play fair wi’ you but there’s other folk starting to wonder and if they get on to you they’ll chiv you as soon as look at you. I’m telling you, missis.’
‘I’m sorry, I’ve got my work to go to,’ said Mrs Phinn calmly. ‘I told you, I’ve got to work for my living. We canny all go about
