The Inglorious Dead (A Doug Michie Novel)

by Tony Black

  Bert bit. ‘Only to clear your name, you never asked me if I wanted it.’

  ‘They accused me and I never did it,’ roared Grantie, his carotid arteries pressing out from his thick neck.

  When the roaring stopped, the room fell quiet for a moment. Only Cassie’s low whimpering was heard, I watched her on the tip of her toes, struggling for breath.

  I spoke. ‘Bert … what’s he saying?’

  ‘He strayed far …’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘My son … he strayed from all I had taught him.’

  ‘Bert, what are you saying?’

  ‘It was the will of God.’

  I moved closer, tried to gauge the knife’s point. ‘Don’t you presume to judge me, Doug Michie, my actions will be judged by the Almighty alone.’

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. A fast burning fuse was lit in my gut, but the explosion occurred in my head.

  ‘Bert, you called in Keenan … you killed your own son.’

  A loud roar came from deep inside Bert Nichols and he lunged back with the knife. Cassie dropped to the ground as Bert brought the blade before him. The cold steel was soundless as it seared into Davie Grant’s broad chest all the way to the haft. For a second Grantie stood firm, fully aware of his fate, as he looked at the knife’s handle sticking from him. He gazed up with wide, bright eyes and a slow trickle of black blood began to spill over his shirt. His mouth widened momentarily as if he was about to emit long-practiced last words into the vaults of posterity, and then he fell.

  Cassie’s screams sliced the still air. She knelt, keening and shaking, before her husband for only a brief spell and then, as if struck suddenly in her back, she fell onto his corpse.

  Slowly, Bert Nichols turned towards myself and Mason. He took two steps towards us and then presented his wrists to Mason, as if the applying of handcuffs was the only appropriate response to the circumstance.

  Epilogue

  Ayr Cemetery was growing in importance to me. It seemed as if all my former attachments to the town lay there now. My father, my mother and my friend, Andy.

  I stood before the small headstone and unloosened the cap on a bottle of the best Dalwhinnie.

  ‘It’s your favourite, Andy.’ I said. ‘Flowers didn’t seem right.’

  I poured half the bottle over his grave and then took a little swig for myself. ‘Cheers, mate.’

  I knew I would never be able to convey how I felt about Andy’s death. The whole case had left me scarred in ways I never thought possible. I felt his passing was like the death of a small part of me. In many ways, I knew it was. The death of old habits, old ways, an old life.

  I put down the whisky bottle and left it with my old friend. As I walked towards the car I knew it was our final parting.

  The new Volvo estate was packed to the roof; the old Audi would never have held half Lyn’s stuff. I knew we had to leave the Auld Toun when she told me about the call, before the fire, that Andy took.

  ‘Doug says it’s case closed when he decides …’ that’s what she told me he’d said.

  Andy had told her it was a call from Grantie, obviously just before he ordered the house burnt to the ground. I was less bothered about the way Grantie died when I heard that. And Cassie could do a lot of shopping with her inheritance to numb her loss.

  I took the Volvo slowly through the town; for a packed car it didn’t handle as sluggishly as I thought it might. The road position was higher than the Audi too, I preferred it. Maybe I was growing more attentive to safety, mine and others’.

  As I drove through the town, en route back to the Horizon Hotel, I amused myself with a rough junkie count. There seemed to be fewer since I’d passed Old Tommy’s findings onto DI John Scott, but I might have been mistaken. The Auld Toun had changed beyond all recognition to me, it wasn’t a place I knew anymore, it was full of ghosts now.

  I took the Volvo down Queen’s Terrace, then onto the hotel car park. Lyn was waiting for me in the reception area as I went in.

  ‘How are you feeling now?’ I said; she still had breathing difficulties after her injuries in the fire, but the doctors said that they would pass.

  ‘I’m fine … raring to go, really.’

  I watched as she finished up a cup of coffee, then helped her on with her coat.

  ‘Oh, Doug … did you get a stamp?’ She pressed an envelope into my hand.

  ‘I did, yeah.’ I handed over the stamp and she passed the envelope with my sister’s name and address on it to the hotel receptionist to post.

  ‘Claire’s in for a nice surprise.’

  I smiled. ‘A big cheque will take the sting out of recent events, I hope.’

  We headed for the car, Lyn crooked her arm into mine and leant her head on my shoulder. A weak sun broke from the clouds as we met with the car park. The blunt silhouette of the Isle of Arran was black against the white of the sky and the smooth yellow of the beach, which took a rain of blows from a ragged sea.

  For the merest moment, it seemed, nothing had changed. We were still just kids, and the Auld Toun our home.

  ‘Still want to go?’ I said.

  Lyn smiled. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  Praise for TONY BLACK

  ‘Tony Black is my favourite British crime writer.’

  Irvine Welsh, author of Trainspotting

  ‘Tony Black is one of those excellent perpetrators of Scottish noir … a compelling and convincing portrayer of raw emotions in a vicious milieu.’

  The Times

  ‘If you’re a fan of Ian Rankin, Denise Mina and Irvine Welsh this is most certainly one for you.’

  The Scotsman

  ‘Black renders his nicotine-stained domain in a hardboiled slang that fizzles with vicious verisimilitude.’

  The Guardian

  ‘Ripping, gutsy prose and a witty wreck of a protagonist makes this another exceptionally compelling, bright and even original thriller.’

  The Mirror

  ‘This up-and-coming crime writer isn’t portraying the Edinburgh in the Visit Scotland tourism ads.’

  The Sun

  ‘Comparisons with Rebus will be obvious. But that would be too easy … Black has put his defiant, kick-ass stamp on his leading man, creating a character that deftly carries the story through every razor-sharp twist and harrowing turn.’

  Daily Record

  ‘At the front of the Tartan Noir pack … a superior offering in an already crowded Scottish crime market.’

  The Big Issue

  ‘Black really excels with his depiction of Edinburgh’s low-life scum … an accomplished and impressive piece of Tartan Noir.’

  The List

  ‘An authentic yet unique voice, Tony Black shows why he is leading the pack in British crime fiction today. Atmospherically driven, the taut and sparse prose is as near to the bone you are ever likely to encounter in crime noir. Powerful.’

  New York Journal of Books

  ‘Tony Black is the Tom Waits of Crime fiction, yes, that good.’

  Ken Bruen, author of London Boulevard

  ‘With comparisons to the likes of Irvine Welsh and William McIlvanney echoing in his ears, Tony Black has become a top-class author in his own right.’

  3AM Magazine

  ‘One of the strongest voices in the UK crime scene at the moment, and it’s a voice that gets clearer and more precise with each book. Tony writes with blunt force, creating dark and brutal stories that still manage to crack a gallus smile.’

  Do Some Damage

  ‘You want something even more refreshing than a pint or two of the black stuff? Then give Tony Black’s stuff a go.’

  Crime Scene Northern Ireland

  ‘The humour amid the pain is brilliant and should have broad-minded readers rocking in their chairs … a compelling new crime novelist.’

  Suite.101

  ‘Sharp pacing and with a wonderful narrative, Black delivers a book that can’t be put down and will stick with you after reading
. If this were Nascar, Black would be holding a lot of chequered flags.’

  Crimespree

  ‘Tony Black, take a bow. This first-person narrative is a super-charged, testosterone-filled force of nature and I defy anyone not to get caught up in it … a rollercoaster ride from riveting start to exhilarating finish.’

  Crime Squad

  ‘Wonderfully written, tough, edgy, and very dark, but with the odd flash of humour. Tony Black is a brilliant writer.’

  Big Beat from Badsville

  ‘Powerful, focused, and intense … and then it gets better. Get your money down early on this young man – he’s dead serious and deadly accurate.’

  Andrew Vachss, author of Hard Candy

  ‘Tony Black is already one of my favourite living crime writers.’

  Nick Stone, author of Mr Clarinet

  ‘This is pure noir, sublime and dark as a double dram of Loch Dhu.’

  Craig McDonald, author of Head Games

  ‘If you haven’t read Black, you’re missing out on one of the best new voices to emerge from Scotland in the last few years. One of the best new voices to enter the genre, period.’

  Russel D. McLean, author of The Lost Sister

  ‘Black is the new noir.’

  Allan Guthrie, author of Two-Way Split

  The Storm Without, A Doug Michie Crime Thriller

  Published by McNidder & Grace

  Still recovering from the harrowing case that ended his police career, Doug Michie returns to his boyhood home of Ayr on Scotland’s wind-scarred west coast. He hopes to rebuild his shattered life, get over the recent failure of his marriage and shed his demons, but the years have changed the birthplace of the poet Robert Burns.

  When Doug meets his old school flame Lyn, however, he feels his past may offer the salvation of a future. Soon Doug is tangled in a complicated web of corrupt politicians, frightened journalists and a police force in cahoots with criminals. Only Burns’ philosophical musings offer Doug some shelter as he wanders the streets of Auld Ayr battling The Storm Without. ISBN 9780857160409.

  ‘This is an elegiac noir for the memory of a place, delivered in prose as bleakly beautiful as the setting.’ THE GUARDIAN

  ‘This is the Great Scottish Novel, got it all and just a wee shade more… Classic.’ KEN BRUEN, author of HEADSTONE

  ‘Another master class in Tartan Noir.’ DAILY RECORD

  Also by McNidder & Grace is Tony Black’s acclaimed Last Orders, an anthology of Short Stories which features the return of reluctant Edinburgh investigator Gus Dury in Last Orders and Long Way Down.

  ‘Ripping, gutsy prose…makes this exceptionally compelling, bright and original.’ THE MIRROR

  Copyright

  Published by McNidder & Grace

  Bridge Innovation Centre,

  Pembrokeshire Science and Technology Park,

  Pembroke Dock SA72 6UN

  www.mcnidderandgrace.co.uk

  © Tony Black

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Tony Black has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  A catalogue record for this work is available from the British Library.

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  ISBN 9780857160478