Free A Pig of Cold Poison by Pat McIntosh Page B

Bothwell.
    ‘So sit down, man, and tell me where the flask came from.’
    ‘The flask?’ The other man stared at him. ‘Was it – was it the flask right enough?’
    Gil detailed Wat Forrest’s observations. Bothwell heard him out in silence, and suddenly sat down on the bench and covered his mouth with the back of his free hand.
    ‘I’d been sure,’ he said after a moment, ‘sure as anything, it was something he’d eaten afore the play. So it was pyson, and it was me gave it to him, and neither of us ever thinking –’ He broke off, and rubbed at his eyes. ‘Poor Danny. God ha mercy on him. And on me.’
    ‘Amen,’ said Gil. ‘So where did the flask come from? Is it one of your own?’
    ‘No, it –’ Bothwell stopped, staring at Gil in the dull light. After a moment he looked away, and said slowly, ‘Aye, I suppose it is.’
    ‘You must know.’
    ‘Aye, it is. It’s one of mine. One of ours.’
    ‘So what was in it and when did it get there?’ The other man shook his head, staring at the ground. Gil looked at him in some puzzlement. ‘You must know,’ he said again. ‘Why were you carrying that one rather than the other?’
    There was another pause. Then Bothwell drew a deep breath, exhaled hard and said, ‘Maister, you’ve just tellt me I killed my nearest friend. I’m no thinking that well. Can I get a bit of time to get my head clear?’
    ‘I’ve aye found,’ said Gil deliberately, ‘that the sooner I ask the questions, the better the answers I get.’
    ‘No in this case,’ said Bothwell.
    ‘Well, let’s talk about something else. Have you enemies in Glasgow? Anyone that dislikes you enough to get you accused of murder?’
    ‘Me?’ said Bothwell in blank amazement. ‘No! No that I – no.’ He shook his head.
    ‘Why Glasgow anyway? Why did you settle here after you left Lanark?’
    Bothwell grimaced. ‘Our grandam was a Glasgow woman. We’d kind memories of her.’
    ‘And the move was a good one?’
    ‘Oh, aye. Till now. Wat and Adam have been good to us, and Frankie’s aye free wi advice and encouragement.’ He shot Gil a wry look. ‘Seeing we’re hardly after the same custom.’
    The same remark as his sister had made.
    ‘Tell me about Danny Gibson,’ said Gil. ‘What kind of a fellow was he?’
    ‘A good friend.’ A painful half-smile. ‘We seen eye to eye on so many things, it was no wonder we both –’ He stopped, and there was another pause.
    ‘Both went after the same girl,’ Gil supplied.
    ‘Aye.’
    ‘Which of you did she favour?’ Another shake of the head. ‘Neither of you? Do you tell me a young lass like Agnes Renfrew contrived to be even-handed between you?’ Surely not that empty-headed little creature – Alys could have managed it, he thought, but Alys is by far wiser.
    ‘Look, we can just leave Agnes out of this,’ said Nanty Bothwell. ‘She’s got nothing to do wi it, I tell you. I never slew Danny out of jealousy or for any other reason, it was a foul mischance, and no point in asking questions.’
    ‘What did you and Danny have words about in the kitchen before the play?’
    ‘We never did,’ said Bothwell, looking up indignantly.
    ‘I’ve heard different. You had speech with Agnes Renfrew out in the yard, and then hot words with Danny in the kitchen.’
    ‘Oh.’ Bothwell looked down again. ‘That. Aye, well, I saw Agnes in the yard and stepped out – just to pass the time of day,’ he said fluently, ‘no that she was able for much conversation for she’d to run home on some errand for her stepmother, seeing it’s just next door. And then, well, Danny was angry at me for getting a chance at speaking wi her when he hadny. We’d an agreement. We’d pledged,’ he said, with a sideways glance at Gil. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he suddenly put his hand over his mouth again. ‘Ah, the poor fellow,’ he said behind it.
    ‘And then you spoke to her again on the stairs. What did she have to say then?’
    ‘Nothing. She