Page 133 of Hang on St. Christopher

“I’m off. I’ll maybe see you next month.”

“Oh, sir, uhm, you left two bottles of liquor...”

“You’re head of CID, Alex. When someone senior comes in your office, you offer them a drink. That’s what men do. Okay? Keep those bottles, and when a higher-up comes in, offer them a drink. I should have told you this before now.”

He nodded. “Thank you, sir, I’ll do that... Are you off to Scotland?”

“Aye.”

“And the Locke case?”

“A good old SEP.”

“Someone else’s problem?”

“Exactly.”

I drove down to Larne and caught the ferry.

Larne to Stranraer.

Stranraer to Portpatrick.

I saw the next door neighbor I had beaten the shit out of a year earlier. He had another new car. Protective of his cars, this bloke.

He saw me.

“How do?” I asked.

“Okay.”

“New car?”

“Aye, but I don’t mind if it gets the odd scrape. It’s only wheels to get around in, after all, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

I went inside and distributed hugs and presents.

Later, after dinner.

“I saw our neighbor outside. He’s got a new car. Everything all right now with him?” I asked.

“Yeah, I saw the new car. I remember what happened last year, so I took preemptive action,” she said.

“Did you?”

“Yes. I said I hope I don’t hit your car again! And he laughed. And then he came over in the afternoon. He couldn’t have been nicer. He brought a big bunch of flowers, and a Lisa Simpson doll for Em. Remember last year, you wanted to threaten him?”

You don’t know this, honey, but I nearly fucking killed him.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Threatening people isn’t always the answer. Some people are just nice. They make a mistake and they realize it’s a mistake, you know?”

“I’m very glad. Oh, I almost forgot. I got something for the living room. That space opposite the fireplace.”

“What?”

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