Bet sweat wascascadingdown their bumcracks.
Going by the posters outside the theatre, they were off to see ‘SKELETONBOB&THEUNFEASIBLYLARGESHEEP!’
Jammy bastards.
Because Logan was heading back to the office, windows rolled down, radio chattering away to itself.
‘...but here’s a wee traffic update before the six o’clock bulletin: Holburn Street has just reopened! So that’s the good news. The bad news is you’ve got another hour of me to endure, before Stevie B’sPreload Playlist.’Honks and twiddles and whooshing noises blared out of the speakers in a ‘comedic’ fashion.‘Tell you what, let’s squeeze in a quick tune, shall we? Here’s the Brigadoon Tourist Board with their new single: “The Whale That Ate The World”. Aaaaaaaaaall aboard!’
Cue indie guitars and someone wanging the hell out of a drumkit.
Wonder if there was a special school DJs went to, where they learned how to be massive arseholes?Honk-honk,ding,wibble! And now here’s another heeeeeeeeeeeeelarious wind-up call!
Tossers.
Well, maybe notallof them, but still...
A singer joined the music:
‘Still afloat, in my old boat, and I can’t stop,
Antidote, for every note, over-the-top,
Scapegoat, it’s so cutthroat,
and I-I-I-I-I-I ride these waves!’
Logan’s Airwave joined in with a trio of bleeps. He pulled the thing out. Fumbling with the buttons one-handed and switching the radio off at the same time.
When he looked up again, the bus shelter was stampeding straight towards the pool car’s bonnet.
Logan stamped on the brakes – the nearside front wheel skiffing off the kerb as he wrenched the steering wheel right. Getting out of the bus lane and back where he was meant to be.
No one saw that, right?
Hopefully...
He pressed the Airwave button and told a teeny white lie: ‘Safe to talk.’
Rennie’s voice joined him in the car.‘Got some updates for you, Guv.’
Logan checked the dashboard clock: nearly six o’clock. ‘Thought you’d have gone home by now.’
‘Urgh...Sore point. Half of us are on compulsory green shifts. And that’s not the worst of it: we’re all back in frigging uniform! Itchy trousers and nylon T-shirts, because “we need a visible police presence to reassure the public”...’A wet raspberry noise rattled free.‘Sodthe public. What did the public ever do for me?’
‘What is it with people whinging at me today?’ Straight through at the roundabout onto Schoolhill, past the Cowdray Hall with its columned war memorial and carved lion statue – currently wearing a traffic cone on its head, because why should Glasgow’s Duke of Wellington get all the fun? ‘I’mnotyour agony aunt. If you need therapy I can easily swap you out for Tufty. The wee loon did good today, with the sex-offender-break-ins thing.’
‘No! It’s fine. Team player all the way, Guv.’Some rustling of paperwork.‘Got a positive match on the victim’s remains. DNA matches samples from the bedroom – hairbrush, manscaping razor, that kinda stuff. The body in the river isdefinitelyAndrew Shaw.’
Really?
‘Pathology said “definitely”?’
‘Course they didn’t. They couched it in “high probability that”s and “on the balance of probability it’s likely”s, but unless our victim broke into Shaw’s bedroom to shave their balls, it’s definitely him.’
Now there was an image.
Looked as if Mrs Shaw’s heart was getting broken after all.
