The Painted Lady-TPL Read Online Free Page B

subordinate with a quiet remark. “I don’t know if I much care for Mister Dunsmore.” Then just in case McLevy took that as a signal for further action, he added swiftly. “However, I want your solemn promise to interfere no more in this matter, otherwise I shall haul both you and Mulholland up before the chief constable for an official action of censure!”
    “I promise not to set foot in Haymarket until I have your permission, sir.”
    That came out a bit too pat for the lieutenant’s liking, but he nodded warily.
    “Where is the constable anyway?” asked McLevy to alter tack before Roach became overly suspicious.
    “He has been already reprimanded and I have sent him to my home to pick up a spare pair of trousers – it’s the least he can do.”
    “I noticed the rupture in your cloth. Was it a dog?” enquired McLevy chummily. “I don’t like dogs.”
    This brought to the lieutenant unwelcome memories of his recent debacle. “No, it was not a dog. Now quit my sight and for God’s sake try not to get into any more mischief!”
    With the look of an angel of virtue that sat most strangely upon his countenance, McLevy slid out of sight.
    Minnie Holmes, despite her profession, was a curiously innocent soul. In fact her apparent lack of guile attracted the older clients who could then indulge in patriarchal lechery of Biblical proportions. She had a small dainty face, a frame to match, and, in the main, seemed to find the world a puzzling proposition.
    At this moment it was more fearful than puzzling as she sat between Jean Brash and McLevy in the kitchen of the Just Land. This was usually Hannah Semple’s domain where the old woman rustled up provender for the magpies on the principle that the girls needed sustenance for their activities in much the same fashion as an army marches on its stomach.
    Jean had been informed of a tapping at the back garden door and opened it to find the inspector looming like a hungry beast in the dark night. No mention had been made of the recuperated boxer; McLevy had merely remarked that he was on a case and needed information as regards the chosen magpie of Judge Pearson.
    She had been tempted to inform him in turn that he might crawl into the nearest dung heap, but by chance Hannah had just made a brew of coffee and the aroma not only gave rise to a wistful look on the scrounger’s face but brought out her better side.
    Besides she missed him like a sheep misses a tick.
    The Just Land was busy with the General Assembly being in Edinburgh; however, Hannah was sent to fetch Minnie and now here they all were. Gathered to worship.
    McLevy came straight to the point, though he was not too comfortable with the subject matter. “Now, Minnie . . . you were Judge Pearson’s preferred company, were you not?”
    “He appreciated my beauty,” said Minnie.
    Jean hid a smile. This could be fun.
    McLevy slurped the fragrant coffee for succour. “Was the judge a . . . vigorous man?”
    “No’ too bad. For his age. I had twa gae-ups for one gae-doon but that’s quite usual.”
    Jean laughed aloud this time and the inspector’s face began to show pink at the edges. “To that end did he avail himself as it were . . . of artificial stimulation?”
    “No. Not at all,” Minnie replied promptly, then catching the narrowing of eyes from a mistress who knew the magpies inside out. “Well – nearly not.”
    “Tell me a wee thing,” McLevy said, with what he hoped was a benign expression.
    “There was a white powder he took. Tried tae get me to, but I wouldnae.”
    “Why didn’t you inform me of this, Minnie?” Jean exclaimed angrily.
    “He said it was doctor’s orders,” was the plaintive response. “It perked him up no end.”
    Silence followed. McLevy had nothing more to say but there was a predatory gleam in his eye.
    “You may go now, Minnie,” said Jean, “and the next time some man lays out white powder, you let me know.”
    At the door Minnie stopped and a wistful look