Page 28 of Scotch on the Rocks

“Enough. Callum isn’tinto me.” I nearly gagged on the juvenile phrase. “I wouldn’t care if he was. All I want to know is, Mal … knowing everything, do you think I can trust him to help me?”

His nod was immediate.

“Shit.” I slumped back against the cushions.

“Not the answer you were hoping for?” He offered me the same grin he’d given Heather. It brightened his entire face.

“Nope. You’ve officially made my Macabe family shit list.”

6

Callum

Callum: How’d it go?

Callum: ???

Callum: I know when you’ve read the text, Mal, a little tick appears at the bottom of the message.

Mal: How did what go?

Callum: The dehumidifier. Did she take it?

Mal: I didn’t really give her much of a choice, just plugged it in and left.

Callum: Good.

Callum: Murray paid her back yet?

Mal: What do you think?

The rap of my knuckles was sharp. Hard to misconstrue. “Open up, Murray!” I yelled at the flaking paint, more than ready to bust the door down if he didn’t show his face in the next thirty seconds. The handle twisted and his wife’s friendly face appeared in the opening.

“Callum.” She smiled, drying her hands on a tea towel. “Did Gordon arrange a house call?”

“Uhh … not exactly.” I scratched the back of my neck, suddenly feeling bad about the hammering I’d given her front door. “It’s more of a social visit.” An issue irritating enough to play Russian roulette with my truck’s suspension on Murray’s shitty dirt track road. I still needed to squeeze in a visit to Dad before heading to work. “Is he about?”

“Just washing up for breakfast, I’ll grab him.”

“Much appreciated, Mrs Murray.” I flashed my best grin. It wasn’t her fault she’d married that rat.

She flicked the tea towel at my thigh. “Yer daftie, it’s Vanessa to you.” She ducked inside and reappeared only seconds later, a scowling Murray in tow. The collar of his shirt was damp from shaving, he ran a towel over his chin as he stepped onto the porch.

“Thanks, Vanessa, I only need to steal him for a minute. Remember to bring the cats in for their annual vax soon, I’ll arrange a little discount.”

I held her smile until the door closed and then bundled Murray back so quickly its hinges creaked.

“Hey, now! Are ye mad—”

“You don’t need to talk, only listen. Understand?” My grip on his shoulder wasn’t too bruising. I exerted just enough pressure to let him know he’d pissed me the hell off.

He nodded, his weather-worn cheeks reddening further.

“You owe Juniper Ross quite a bit of money.”

“That’s what this is? She cancelled the job, not me. I’ll tell yer what I told the wee lassie, that pipe was faulty, it’s nae my boy’s fault.”

I might call herweeall the time, but from Murray’s lips it sounded condescending. As though she were a naive little girl, too simple-minded to understand the complexities of “important male business”.

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