Faith In Our Fathers, Part 5 (and final)

“Derek, mate? I’m jist gonny head, thought I’d let you know what I think ‘fore I went.”

“What? You sorted it out already. That’s -”

“No, I’ve sorted nothin’ out, but there’s some stuff you need to sort. Still, I've seen what I needed to. What’s with the raven-black hair, Derek, you fancy makin’ an appearance in a folk song sometime soon?”

“Eh? Vanity, s’pose. There’s none of us gettin’ any younger.”

“You always been a vain man? Or is this a wee new thing? Who’s it for, Derek, who’re you lookin’ sharp for? Is it Rina?”

“Whit? Eh, naw, it’s…”

“Tell me about Rina. How’d’s a young Lithuanian woman fetch up in Kirky, waiting tables in an Italian restaurant?”

“I dunno, she…she know Debra from college…”

“Got it. The two of them are on the same course, doin’ catering. Right. They meet, they pal up, how come you’re on this course?, well my da owns this restaurant, oh really, maybe I could?…and then Debra brings Rina up here, she seems keen, seems to knows her stuff – you tell yourself that’s what you think, but really you’re arse over tip that this young blonde is lookin’ at you, y’know, that way. So you offer her a job, or maybe you don’t at first, whatever. Either way, you start a…do you call it a ‘relationship’?...with this woman thirty years younger than you…fuckin’ yaldi, you canny believe your luck. But you need to make an effort, right? So you get out the Dracula dye-job and bingo – what George Clooney would look like if he zapped the grey. And if he looked like you.”

“That’s just…I don’t know how…”

“How? You want some eternal truths, Derek? Well, you’re gettin’ them, anyway, cuz I’ve hauled my arse on the bus -”

“Bus?”

“- aye, bus, all the way to Kirky on a wet school night for this. People lie. There you go. Once you get your napper round that, my business gets a whole lot easier. It’s even better when they tell stupid, pointless lies. Why were you tellin’ me you’re here every day of the week, when you’re not? That’s a stupid lie, and you told me cuz the days you’re not here are also the days Rina’s not here, right? Now, I didn’t know that, but in the back of your mind there was something, right? Some guilt. So, you make up a story that ‘proves’ you were here when Rina wasn’t, so…? So nothing, in fact, cuz didn’t you think I’d speak to Debra? And she’d know you weren’t always here. Stupid lie.”

“That’s a great wee story, but what I want to know is who’s stealing money from me?”

“I dunno who dipped the till for sure – but my money’s on Debra. Because it must have been even more obvious to her than it is to me what’s goin’ on. See, that’s the other big porky you dropped. I asked you did you suspect anybody? No, you said. The first thing Debra tells me is that she told you, straight out, that Rina was the one. Another big lie, although that one’s not quite so pointless, cuz you’re tryin’ to protect your girlfriend. Still pretty stupid, but.”

“Listen, I -”

“Naw, you listen, Derek my friend. My bus fares’ll likely cost me more than that glass of Orvieto would’ve, so I’m down on this whole deal. Least I can do is set you straight. See, I understand your problem, kinda. Debra dips the till and tells you Rina’s rippin’ you off and that’s a tricky one. You were worried that, if it actually was Rina, you couldny defend her, cuz that’d raise all kindsa sticky questions, couldny fire her in case she’s got a mind to...I dunno…drop a dime to Cee-Cee about this and that, so you had to muddy the water, to look like you were doing somethin’. And if it was her rippin' you off, you hope she stops… if it’s not her, you hope Debra or whoever stops faking it.”

“Why would Debra do that?”

“You really have to ask? She wants her father back. She did this nice thing, introduced her friend to her father and look where it got her - embarrassment central. Now, she hates the friend, lost her father. So she finds a way to make you dump the ex-friend and this was the way. It’s crude, but this isny the senior common room at All Souls here.”

“As easy at that?”

“Easy? Yes and no. You know what they say – there’s only six jokes, or four, or whatever? Well, actually, that’s a loada shite, but there’s only a certain number of lies and you get to recognise most of them after a while. And when people like you don’t even bother to get two and two to make four…not a big job to figure it out. But I’ve still got questions – you don’t know a police officer called Detective Inspector Annie Simpson, do you?”

“Don’t know the name.”

“Right. And you remember what you said to me earlier? You were talkin’ about the supposed theft and you said ‘you canny ignore this kind of thing’, right? Who said that to you first? Did Cee-Cee tell you that? Did she tell you Paddy could help you sort it out, cuz he’s a polis? Did she get you to try and sort out Rina?”

“Well, maybe Debra told her what she thought about Rina and they just…”

“Aye, maybe that’s it. Anyway, thanks for the wine, I think my bus is in five minutes.”

“Is that it? I don’t understand.”

“No? I think mibbe you do, actually. And if not, you will.”

*** *** ***

On the bus back to Buchanan Street, rain dappling the window, I called Paddy Haldane.

“He never offered me a chicken cacciatore, but the wine was okay.”

“You sort it out, then?”

“Sort it? No. Not my skillset. Spent the night telling yer man Derek what a bad liar he was, and now I’m doin’ the same with you, Paddy. Or d’ye just think I’m that shite a detective?”

“You’ve lost me, Stevie.”

“Fucksake, Paddy, first up, did you not think I’d ask Annie Simpson about this restaurant, and she’d tell me she only remembers it from when she went there wi’ you?"

“Ah…dunno – thought you might just do it, just a wee favour, coupla conversations like. Where’s the harm?”

“Ah, you’re off your game –  I told Derek that everything gets a whole lot easier when people start tellin’ stupid lies for no reason, and here you are proving me right, but I guess love’ll do that.”

“Eh? Who mentioned love?”

“Nobody. But the minute I saw Cee-Cee walk in the door, I knew who’d asked you to wade into this nonsense, and I knew why you’d done it, especially since her husband spends all those nights at the restaurant. And I know why you’re still a regular at La Celeste, one way and another."

"What's your point?"

"Some things you never get over, Paddy, eh? And Cee-Cee is the dead spit of Annie Simpson.”