Read Last Orders (a Gus Dury crime thriller) for Free Online

there was someone in there. I toyed with the idea of
putting my foot to the door when, suddenly, a whoosh of stale air came at me as
the door's windowpane came through.
    I caught a glance of a pot in flight.
    I fell back.
    My back smacked off the concrete landing just as I saw a
blur of shaved head loom over me and cosh me across the face with a heavy fist.
    Next thing I saw was the dancing canaries.
    * * * *
    'Hello, can you hear me? Hello ... hello.'
    My head felt like Chewbacca had taken a dump in there. I
was still on my back as I opened my eyes to find a young boy looming over me
with dark panda eyes.
    'Can you hear me?' His Converse All-Stars slapped at the
landing as he padded about my supine form.
    'Yeah. Just, maybe lower the volume.' I turned my gaze
away, leaned up on one arm and caught sight of the pot that had come through
the window. I kicked out at it, sent it skidding down the landing.
    The lad spoke, 'Are you okay? Can you move?'
    I tried to steady myself but everything was spinning. 'I
think so.'
    'Would you like to come inside?'
    'What?' I felt weary. 'Did you chuck the pot?'
    He shook his head, theatrically. 'Oh, God, no ...' He
leaned over and tried to help me to my feet.
    My knees caved. I stumbled a little, then found some
balance. I leaned into the lad and headed through the door. He sat me on an old
crate, an orange velour cushion the only concession to comfort.
    The lad spoke. 'I don't know who that was chucking the
pot ... they come and go, you know. He was edgy, must have been on the run or
something.'
    He wasn't the only one. 'And who are you?' I rubbed at
my head, checked my fingertips. There was a line of blood. I felt beyond my
hairline, the damage seemed minimal.
    'I'm Craig. I was staying here, for a bit. I just came
back to collect a few things.'
    I knew the accent wasn't local, but I couldn't place it.
If Ayrshire was like a condensed version of Glasgow then I could be onto
something.
    'Are you with Caroline?' I said.
    Craig brought me a wet cloth, said, 'There's no ice.
Sorry.'
    I nearly laughed. 'I wouldn't have expected it. You've
not much of anything.'
    He gripped his palms together, looked at the floor. 'It's
a squat ... what do you expect?'
    I could feel some semblance of normalcy returning. At
least the brighter lights had gone out, although a few dark motes still crossed
my eyes.
    'So ... Caroline?'
    He turned away, 'How do you know her?'
    I ran the wet towel over the back of my neck and tried
to stand. I'd regained some balance, at least the room had stopped swaying. 'What
does that matter? Look, she's pregnant and about to give birth, she should be
in hospital.'
    Craig's slightly-camp demeanour vanished in a second; he
turned, tried to rush past me, but I found just enough strength to grab his
arm.
    He gasped, 'Let go of me.'
    I felt breathless, dizzy. The sudden exertion was a step
too far.
    'Oh, fuck.'
    Craig shrieked, 'Jesus you're bleeding hard.'
    The pain shot through me, head to toe, seemed to touch
every fibre of my being. This time there was no stopping my guts turning over.
I chucked on the floor.
    'I think you should have your head looked at ...'
    'You're not the first person to tell me that, Craig.'
    My stomach tightened again, I retched again. I was
toppling onto one knee as Craig reached out for me.
    'I think you're the one that needs the hospital,' he
said.
    I looked up, caught his eyes. 'Trust me ... Caroline
needs it more.'
    Something sparked in him and I had it down as humanity.
If this was the bad influence my minister employer had spoken about then he
needed to go back to his Bible and check his facts.
    'Craig, please, take me to Caroline ... before it's too
late.'
    * * * *
    We went from a squat to a flea-pit one-bedroom flat in
Gorgie. It was an old tenement that had been sub-divided so many times the
bathroom was in a hall cupboard and the kitchen squashed along one wall of the
living room. The heavy hardwood doors and exposed floorboards added a false air
of