Page 99 of Men in Shorts

“Is there new evidence?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Andrew set the words to the song’s melody as he gyrated. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

This made no sense. Colin found the sound system’s remote control and paused the music. “Why don’t you care? It matters.”

“Perhaps Jeremy simply had a change of heart.” He bounced over and reached for the remote.

Colin crossed his arms, keeping the device off limits. “Did your family convince him to plead guilty?”

“I don’t think so. I phoned my parents after I talked to the fiscal’s office. They were ecstatic, obviously.” He began to twirl, arms raised. “But they’ve not spoken to Jeremy for weeks, apart from my sister sending him divorce papers.”

Colin scanned the reception room for a clue, as Andrew was being pure unhelpful. He spied the newspaper he’d tossed onto the table.Of course.“It must have been the Party.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here.” He tapped the headline. “Latest TNS poll shows a seven-percent Labour lead in the general election. Conservatives must be getting nervous.”

“Same margin as the last poll.” Andrew continued to dance without music. “Most surveys show the race a dead heat.”

“That’s exactly why the Tories are worried. Why would they risk the bad publicity of a trial so close to the election in May? ‘Conservative Party operative pays thug to kidnap gay brother-in-law, whose boyfriend nearly dies in the attack.’ It’s sordid as fuck.”

Andrew finally stopped, grabbing the back of a dining chair to steady himself. “Yes, it was a concern of the Tory leaders.” He set his champagne glass on the table, looking crestfallen. “You think they convinced Jeremy to fall on his sword for them?”

“He’s a loyal Tory. Maybe they made him realize he could hurt them in the election. Not to mention the fact he was likely to be convicted at trial, so pleading guilty now will reduce his sentence. But we can see to it he’s sent down for a long time.” Realizing Andrew had said the sentencing was Tuesday—an unusually fast progression by the court—Colin pulled out his phone. “I’ll get our victim statements from the Procurator Fiscal’s office so we can update them before the sentencing.”

“Whatever for? I’ve nothing to add.”

“Mind, we filled in those statements a few days after I got stabbed. I’ve gone through a world of shit since then.”

“Fine.” Andrew released an elegant burp. “Revise your statement, but I’ll not touch mine.”

“Don’t be daft.” Colin fought to focus on his phone screen as he searched his contacts. “You’ve been through the mill too. I lost track of how many uni lectures you missed cos of me. Fucking miracle you passed your exams.”

Andrew didn’t respond, so Colin dialed the number. While he discussed the matter with the fiscal’s office, he watched Andrew wander over to the giant aquarium to gaze at his fish. His shoulders were hunched now, like those of a child awaiting punishment. What was going on with him?

“Right,” Colin said as he hung up. “They’re sending a courier with copies of our original statements and new forms to—” He stopped when he saw Andrew pour the last of the champagne into his glass. “Did you drink that entire bottle?”

“Not yet.” Andrew turned back to the aquarium, where the bubbles rose in sync with those in his champagne glass.

Colin’s stomach lurched. Something wasn’t right. Over the past few months, he’d noticed Andrew’s fleeting moments of detachment, like the occasional flicker of a loose light bulb. But since their visit to Dunleven Castle, those moments had stretched longer and longer, until his aloofness seemed more the rule than the exception.

“You okay?” he asked Andrew, wanting to go to him but fearing he’d get the cold shoulder again.

“Never better,” Andrew said, his eyes following a blue damselfish darting along the front of the tank. “Or rather, I’llbebetter than ever after Tuesday’s sentencing.”

“Right. Good.” Colin shifted his weight from foot to foot. “So…we need to finish our new victim statements by Monday morning so the judge has time to read them. Maybe we could fill them in today? Get it over and done with?”

Andrew snorted. “Seems a dismal way to celebrate our good news.” He flicked his hand as if shooing a gnat. “Also I’m quite drunk, so anything I write would be both illegible and incoherent.”

“My match is tomorrow, so we could do your statement Sunday.” Relieved he’d found a compromise to end the argument, Colin sat down at the dining table and opened his laptop. “I’m gonnae get my thoughts organized now, so when the form comes I can fill it in pronto.”

“Fine, I’ll copy what you write and change all the pronouns from ‘I’ to ‘he.’”

Colin snickered. “Aye, the judge’ll love that.” He opened a new document and started typing hard, anger flooding from his fingertips. When he filled in the form later, he would edit out phrases likeslimy wee bawbag,Tory wankstain, andcocked-up life of mine. These victim statements were meant to be honest, but profanity wouldn’t help their cause—which was to see Jeremy behind bars for years and years and years.

“Why can’t you be happy for me?” Andrew asked.

Colin froze. “Sorry?”

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