Lying Dead by Aline Templeton Page B

bring himself to go in. Some of the laughter was probably at his expense and even the consolation of knowing that Findlay Stevenson could be behind bars by now didn’t compensate for his own public failure and humiliation.
        And anxiety. He’d still hoped, when he went to hang around the bar after the trials, that despite the disaster of Moss’s performance, someone would come up and make him an offer on the basis of the dog’s previous reputation. But he’d been drinking alone when Stevenson came in and started slagging him off. He’d lashed out with the deadliest weapon in his armoury – killing off the dog – and there had been considerable satisfaction in seeing the pain in the man’s face. Niall had even managed to land a punch or two in self-defence before Stevenson was dragged away.
        His big problem was Lafferty. Ronnie had scared him last night, but if he went ahead with the rescue plan that had occurred to him, Davina would be furious and she was a bad person to cross. Then again, did she need to know? She’d said she was only passing through  . . .
        ‘Hey, lover!’ The voice that spoke at his shoulder made him start, but when he looked round it wasn’t the woman he was thinking about who stood there. He hadn’t heard her approach, with the wind stirring the boats into clinking movement and the creaking of the pontoons.
        Gina Lafferty stood smiling at him out of the darkness, the full mouth inviting as ever, the flirtatious eyes glinting and the plunging neckline of her dull gold silky top an arrow pointing to the dark hollow below. Lust on legs, he had called her once: the ideal woman, someone whose appetites matched his own, and who had an even greater vested interest in discretion.
        Niall stood up, glancing nervously over her shoulder. ‘Gina! I didn’t know you were down this weekend. I thought Ronnie was here this week on his own.’
        ‘He was. But then I thought, hey! Why don’t I come down too? Especially when the office phoned the Glasgow house to say they were looking for him – some sort of minor crisis. I got here last night; he left this morning. And tonight – well, I felt like playing with fire and I came along to see if I could find someone to light the flame.’
        It had been a bruising day, in every sense of the word. He’d have to be crazy to take a risk like this, but it was balm to his wounded spirit. So Lafferty was richer, more powerful? In one direction at least he was a loser, big time. How could Niall resist?
        He took a step closer, smiling at her. ‘Oh, I think I could just about manage that.’
        Gina put out her hand and touched soft fingers to his sore lip. ‘I hear you’ve been in the wars. I’ll have to be gentle with you, won’t I?’
        ‘You go back,’ he said thickly. ‘I’ll drift along when the coast’s clear.’
     
    ‘You’re awful quiet this evening,’ Rab McLeish said. ‘You’ve barely touched your breezer.’ He sounded faintly impatient as he looked down at the dark-haired girl sitting alone at the small corner table next to the bar.
        They were a curious pair. Rab was big, self-confident and loud and she was a quiet little thing – mousy, in the opinion of some of his friends, though they never said it to his face. They’d been stepping out for nearly two years and Rab was daft about the girl; certainly she was pretty enough, with the soft blue eyes and pale skin that often goes with dark hair in Scotland.
        Tonight she seemed even paler than usual and he was immediately concerned. ‘You feeling OK?’
        ‘Not – not brilliant.’
        ‘Are you wanting home? I’ll need to stand my round first, but—’
        ‘No, no,’ she said hastily. ‘I’ll be fine just sitting here for now. You get away back to the lads.’
        Rab hesitated, but didn’t argue. He was having a good time; this evening there were a lot of the regulars in the country pub just