"This is a respectable establishment, and you look like a tramp. I have the right to refuse service to anyone I don't want drinking in here." He jerked a thumb toward a notice by the till which backed up his words. "On your bike."
Mondo stared at him in disbelief. He looked around, seeking support from other customers. Everyone studiously avoided meeting his eye. "Fuck you, pal," he said, sweeping an ashtray to the floor and storming out.
In the short time he'd been inside, the heavy rain that had been threatening all day had broken over the town, scouring the streets under the impetus of a strong east wind. In no time at all, he was soaked to the skin. Mondo wiped the rain from his face and realized he was crying. He'd had enough of this. He couldn't take another day of misery and pointlessness. He had no friends, women despised him and he just knew he was going to fail his finals because he hadn't done any work. Nobody cared because nobody understood.
Drunk and depressed, he staggered along The Scores toward the castle. He'd had enough. He'd show them. He'd make them see his point of view. He climbed over the railing by the footpath and stood swaying at the edge of the cliff. Below, the sea pounded angrily against the rocks, sending fountains of spume high into the air. Mondo breathed in the salt spray and felt curiously at peace as he stared down at the raging water. He spread his arms wide, raised his face to the rain and screamed his pain at the sky.
Chapter 18
Maclennan was walking past the radio room when the call went out. He translated the numbers in the code. Potential suicide on the cliffs above the Castle Sands. Not really a CID matter, and anyway, it was his day off. He'd only come in to clear up some paperwork. He could carry on out the door, be home in ten minutes, a can of lager in his hand and the sports pages open on his lap. Like almost every other day off since Elaine walked out the door.
No contest.
He stuck his head in the radioroom door. "Tell them I'm on my way," he said. "And send for the lifeboat from Anstruther."
The operator looked at him in surprise, but gave him the thumbs up. Maclennan carried on through to the car park. God, but it was a rough afternoon. The bloody weather alone was enough to make you suicidal. He drove to the scene, his wipers barely slapping the windscreen clear between gouts of rain.
The cliffs were a favorite spot for attempted suicides. Mostly, they succeeded if the tide was right. There was a vicious undertow that swept the unsuspecting out into the sea in a matter of minutes. And nobody lasted long in the North Sea in winter. There had been some spectacular failures too. He remembered a janitor from one of the local primary schools who had completely mistimed the attempt. He came crashing down into two feet of water, missed the rocks altogether and ended up hitting the sand. He broke both his ankles and was so mortified at this farcical fiasco that he caught a bus to Leuchars the day he was released from hospital, tottered on his crutches along the railway track and threw himself under the Aberdeen express.
That wouldn't happen today, though. Maclennan was pretty sure the tide was in, and the east wind would whip the sea into a pounding maelstrom beneath the cliffs. He hoped they'd get there in time.
There was a panda car there already when he arrived. Janice Hogg and another uniformed officer were standing uncertainly by the low railing, watching a young man lean into the wind, his arms spread like Christ on the cross. "Don't just stand there," Maclennan said, turning his collar up against the rain. "There's a lifebelt further along. One of those ones with a rope. Get it, now."
The male constable sprinted off in the direction Maclennan was pointing in. The detective climbed over the railing and took a couple of steps forward. "All right, son," he said gently.
The young man turned and Maclennan realized that it was Davey Kerr. A wrecked and ruined Davey Kerr, to be sure. But there was no mistaking that elfin face, those terrified Bambi eyes. "You're too late," he slurred, his body wavering drunkenly.
"It's never too late," Maclennan said. "Whatever's wrong, we can fix it."