Sergeant Moore gave Roberta and Lord Thingumy-Whatsit a stern look, then turned to the crowd. ‘I need you all to return to your rooms and stay there until you’re called on fora statement.’ Another stern look. ‘And that’sallof you, not just the ladies.’
His Lordship straightened up to his full height. ‘I think you’ll find thatI’mthe ranking official here, Sergeant. And it’smycastle, so I’ll—’
‘With all due respect, Lord Fitzroy-Galbraith, the ranking official is right there.’ Moore pointed at her. ‘Detective Chief Inspector Roberta Steel, NE Division.’
Oops... He still thought she was a DCI.
Should really have said something about that.
Kinda too late, now.
Susan had a bit of a glare at her. Not sure if that was a ‘You’re not a DCI any more!’ glare, or a ‘You’re embarrassing me in your ancient bra!’ glare, or even a ‘You got blootered last night and acted like a proper arsehole!’ one. Some days were just an embarrassment of riches.
That boring Edinburgh drone started up again. ‘Ah, yes, but this isHighlands and IslandsDivision, isn’t it? So, I think you’ll find a DCI from Northeast Division doesn’t have jurisdiction here.’
His drony English friend joined in. ‘He makes a very good point.’
‘Oh, thank you.’ Smug git.
Sergeant Moore held up a hand. ‘Under Police Scotland, she has jurisdictioneverywhere.’
There was some grumbling at that, but nothing more from the Boring Brothers.
Roberta nodded. ‘All right, you heard the sergeant: back to your rooms the lot of you.’
No one moved.
‘Go on, shoo!’
It earned her some dark looks, but finally the wedding guests and hotel staff got the message and drifted away, disappearingupstairs – leaving the lobby empty, except for Roberta, Susan, Sergeant Moore, and Lord Fitzroy-Galbraith. And the body, of course.
Lordy glowered down his nose at her. ‘Don’t think you’ve heard the last of this. I’mverygood friends with the Chief Constable!’
‘Aye, good for you.’ Roberta gave him a wee wink. ‘You can have a nice whinge when the pair of you are rolling up your trouser legs in the Lodge next time. Till then...’ She clapped her hands, just like he had, not even trying to hide the grin on her face. ‘Chop, chop, off you trot. There’s a good boy.’
A haughty sniff, then His Lordship turned smartly on his heel and marched off in proper parade-ground style. Back straight, arms swinging.
The effect was somewhat undermined by the PJs and dressing gown, though.
Soon as the old prick had gone she let everything slump. ‘Urrrrgh...’ Massaging her temples with a shaky hand. ‘My head...’
For some unfathomable reason, Susan didn’t come through with tea and sympathy. ‘Serves you right for drinking all that whisky last night; you should know better at your age! And why aren’t you wearing a top? Bad enoughIhave to suffer your horrid grey bra, does everyone else need to see it?’
Fine, well two could play at that game. Especially if she was going to be nasty about Old Faithful.
Roberta jerked a thumb in Susan’s direction. ‘Sergeant?’
Took him a moment, but he got there in the end. ‘Ah, right.’ Moore guided Susan towards the stairs. ‘If you don’t mind, madam, this is a police matter, now. Thank you for your cooperation.’
A puzzled frown. ‘But I’m—’
He gave her a gentle shove. ‘Thank you, that’s a great help. Off you go.’
Susan stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked back at Roberta.
Yeah, not going to happen.
Then Susan gave a pointed, ‘Humph!’ and marched off.
