I would like to thank Reading Between the Lines Blog Tours for giving me the opportunity to bring you this book, my Bookaholic friends. This gritty thriller is set in my native Scotland, so a real local flavour today. It's enough to make you crack out the Whiskey.
Blurb
Extract
An elderly couple got up to leave, and as they reached the door it was held open by a woman who was entering. She was dressed in a black jerkin and matching black trousers – a uniform. She headed to his table to be greeted with a brief smile as she stood there, not, it seemed, expecting to be asked to sit down.
‘How long, Tania?’ I had heard that voice before.
‘The car is ready, sir. They managed to repair the puncture. I’ve parked it in St Andrew Street, close to the Kings Arms Hotel. As usual, there were no spaces left on King Street,’ she added, not with a smile but with a slight softening of her features, an attempted apology for any inconvenience caused. There was a rapport between them. Tania must be his chauffeur.
Tania was stocky, muscle not fat, I thought, her dark shoulder- length hair streaked with wisps of grey, her face impassive. She knew her place. She was also disrupting my plans. I couldn’t approach him now, not when he had company. I quickly supped some of the coffee to suppress my emotion.
‘That’s good. I’ll be out in a minute. Just wait in the car.’ He certainly was a charmer, knew how to treat women. Same way that he treated my father, contempt inbred. Now things could change with a bit of luck, I thought, shovelling down another piece of cake, although it stuck in my gullet.
Tania complied, not reacting to the brush-off, and turned about to leave the cafe. I looked around, no one else had noticed his chauvinism. However, no one else had the personal interest I had in him.
After a few seconds, he drained his coffee cup and stood up, putting his pen back carefully inside his jacket, and then, picking up the paper, he beckoned the waitress over and handed her a paper note. He waited while she brought his change. I kept my head down, managing another mouthful of coffee, masking my face.
‘Thank you.’ He took his change and headed towards the door.
Suddenly, I realised that I needed to pay and follow him, but the waitress had disappeared into the kitchen. I got up as he left and rushed over to the counter.
‘Hello,’ I said loudly and rapped on the counter. I repeated myself and a face appeared, an older woman.
‘I need to pay up, I have to go.’
‘Okay, no problem. Michelle, can you settle this gentleman’s bill? He’s in a hurry,’ she added.
Seconds passed before Michelle appeared. Precious seconds. Michelle returned, reached up and took the tab from a clip and checked the menu for prices.
‘Everything okay, sir?’ She glanced across at the half-eaten cake.
‘Yes,’ but she was taking too long. He could be away in his car by now. I threw down a ten- pound note and said, ‘Keep the change.’ I turned and ran out of the cafe. A glance told me he wasn’t on King Street. I knew Castle Douglas well – after all, I had lived in it for many years when I was younger – and rushed the short distance to St Andrew Street and looked along it. There he was, walking slowly, catching up with Tania who had not yet reached the car. I lurked at the corner and then quickly crossed the street and tried to walk fast without attracting their attention. I stopped beside an antique showroom as Tania pressed a key fob. The indicator lights flashed on a dark-coloured sports coupe, trimmed with a line of lime along the sill, the vivid colour reflecting off the highly polished body of the car. It looked like an Aston Martin, top of the range, a dream car only for the wealthy. Tania held the passenger door open and, as he got in, I took a picture with my iPhone.
Tania paused as she walked round the car, as if she had noticed my action. I turned away and took a picture of a white plaster bust of some historic figure in the window and pretended to be interested in it, breathing hard to steady my tension.
Minutes later I heard the throaty sound of the sports car starting and turned trying to note the registration number, but a car passed blocking my view. I could only see three letters... AGL. The car turned up Queen Street, which ran parallel to King Street, and was gone. I stood for some time, letting my emotion subside before I continued towards Queen Street.
He existed and he knew the area. I had to find him, so many questions to ask him and then... as my thoughts turned to plotting revenge, I saw the car pass the end of the road. I barely had time to turn away but noticed a lime-coloured stripe on the bonnet. Had Tania doubled back to check up on me? Had he recognised me after all? Unlikely, but I had to be careful until the conditions were right for me to exact my revenge.
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About Alasdair Wham
His third novel, Devil's Cauldron, is set in Galloway which is in south-west Scotland, he likes to write about places that he knows the best.
Before he turned to fiction, he produced a series of books exploring Scotland's lost railways, a hobby that he enjoys with his sons and that took him all over Scotland.
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That's it for another week my Boookaholic friends. I will see you soon with another post. Until then, keep on reading and writing.
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