Probably going to pay for that later, but what could you do?
Roberta slumped against the reception desk and buried her face in her hands, trying to squeeze the burning weasels back inside her skull.
Sergeant Moore’s voice happied its way through her weasel wrangling. ‘I’ve wanted to do that foryears. Pull rank on the old bugger: put him in his place!’ He launched into a less than flattering impersonation for, ‘“I’m LordFitzroy-GalbraithandI’mon the 1922 committee,Ibrought down Theresa May, I’mmuchmore important than you lowly police plebs!”’
When Roberta peered out between her fingers, Moore was making wanking gestures.
A laugh. ‘Importantthis, Your Lordship.’ He frowned at her. ‘Are you OK?’
‘No.’
‘Ah, OK.’ He took a couple of steps back and stared up at the body. ‘Never done a murder before. Couple of missing persons and the occasional domestic, but drink driving’s the crimeà la mode d’ ici.’
PC McKinnon scurried back into the lobby, fiddling with the Velcro on his stabproof vest. He’d changed into the full Police Scotland kit, peaked cap just a little bit too large for him, making the tips of his ears stick out at right angles. ‘What did I miss?’
‘Just said I’ve never done a murder before.’
‘Oh, aye.’ He followed the sergeant’s gaze up to Sir Reginald Bradbury-Scott and his exposed nether regions. ‘Could be suicide, though. Or an accident?’
‘Very true. Have to keep an open mind with something like this.’
Idiots.
Roberta groaned. Gave her forehead another squeeze. ‘Coffee...’
PC McKinnon pulled a face. ‘Knowing our luck, it’s probably an accident, though.’
A sigh. ‘More than likely, but a boy can dream.’
OK, they were clearly not listening, so she tried again. ‘Coffee!’
Sergeant Moore shook his head. ‘Don’t think that’s—’
‘Coffee, coffee, coffee!’
‘It’s just: the power’s out.’
Of course it was. The lightning had fried something important and now there wasn’t any electricity. No electricity, no kettle. No kettle, no boiling water. No boiling water, no coffee!
‘Noooooo...’ She slumped even further into hercompletelyundeserved misery. Then scowled at both of them. ‘You’re a pair of idiots, you know that, don’t you?’
‘Hey!’ Moore looked a bit hurt at that. ‘It’s not our fault the power’s—’
‘How the hell is this an accident? Look at it.’
They did.
And then, after an awkward silence, PC McKinnon raised one shoulder in a half-arsed shrug. ‘I don’t get it.’
How did this pair ever get to be police officers?
She held up a hand, counting the points off on her fingers, rudest digits first. ‘One: how do youaccidentallyslip and fall on a massive great metal stag statue? It’s no’ like he was hoovering naked, is it? And it’s, what, sixteen, eighteen feet from down here to those antlers?’
‘Well, maybe he was—’
‘And where’s he going to fall from?’
A pause as they looked at the body, then at the stairs behind it, and the balconies on either side of the lobby. The only thingin frontof the statue was the castle wall – adorned with a couple of dangly woven banners, depicting hunting scenes, that looked in need of a good wash. And possibly burning.
