Ungrateful bastard.
‘Or itmightbe the serial rapist you found floating facedown in the Dee, yesterday. You know the one: Andrew Wallace Shaw. With his head bashed in. Ring any bells?’
Logan clamped a hand over his eyes. ‘Who’s feeding you this stuff?’
‘What can I say: I’m a good listener; people like to tell me things.’You couldhearthe smug smile in his voice.‘So, where d’you want to start: “City Cops’ Orphan Vendetta”, “‘Reckless Police Tried To Kill Me’ Says Local Businessman”, or “Vigilante Ends Serial Rapist’s Vicious Spree”?’
‘Colin...’ Logan gave his head a squeeze, because it probably wasn’t a good idea to tell members of the press where they could stick their bloody newspaper.
‘Aye: and what do you mean, you’re on your way to see me?’
‘Your missing boss. I need access to her work stuff.’
‘Ah, you mean: “Clueless Cops Can’t Find Missing Mother”?’
‘Again with the being a dick.’ Deep breath. ‘How about “Weegie Reporter Impedes Investigation – Gets Uninvited To Barbecue”?’
Silence.
The pool car crossed the bridge, parting company with the Fiat Rudeness as it took a right – around the roundabout, heading towards Garthdee and the road south – while Tufty took the first exit, following a sign for ‘TULLOS&ALTENSIND.EST.’
Eventually, a sniff came down the line.‘Suppose Icouldwait till you’ve been here. But I report without fear or favour, understand?’
At least it was a start.
‘OK.’
‘Besides, I’ve just bought five kilos of steak mince, and four dozen burger buns...’
Logan, Steel and Tufty sat on squeaky plastic chairs, looking up at the dusty atrium asDougie In The Aifterneenburbled away on a hidden radio.
‘...cos I ayeways wondered fa it was, deen that. It’s a fair scunner fan ye find oot, isn’t it? An mind that feel loon faeEastEnders,wie a gammy leg and face like a crackit chuntie? Weil, he’s jist released a charity single...’
TheAberdeen Examinerhad invested as much into its reception area as it had in its journalistic integrity. Which was why the place was a depressing hole, with magnolia walls and a beige soul. The collection of plastic pot plants was on its last legs, and the framed front pages needed dusting, while the brown carpet tiles needed taking out andburning.
The only redeeming feature was Glenda: the big smiley round lady, with rainbow-striped hair and a ring through her nose, who’d come out from behind the desk to make everyone coffee and offer them a dip in the Quality Street tub while theywaited on Colin Sodding Miller to stop playing the diva and come get them.
Ding-buzz.
SMITHYSMITH:
Heard back from phone company!
Anonymous threat was from a mobile number.
Bunch of tech-blah about carrier network handshake protocols, but upshot = no ID or number.
Great.
So zero help there, then.
Ding-buzz.
SMITHYSMITH:
Yacht Bloke also called from a mobile!
PAYG handset on Triple-5.
