Another quality A Division operation...
And speaking of disasters:
Tufty limped back along the road, red-faced and breathing like a leaky space hopper, one hand pressed against his ribs. A weeping red scrape arced across his cheek.
No Charles MacGarioch.
The wee idiot staggered to a halt. ‘Couldn’t...couldn’t catch...wasn’t...’ Wheezing and coughing. ‘Got...away from...from me!...Pfff...’ He sagged against the car. ‘Argh...Puff...Pant...Et cetera.’
Keira stuck her nose in the air. ‘Told you: haven’t seen Charlie forages.’
‘Really?’ Logan opened the rear passenger-side door. ‘So who was the naked bloke slathered in Lynx Africa in your bedroom, then?’
No answer.
‘It was Charles MacGarioch, wasn’t it.’ Logan put a hand on her head, so she wouldn’t brain herself on the door frame,and plonked her into the car. Produced his phone and scrolled through to the secret photograph. ‘This was taken at the circus in Westburn Park. Andyou, Miss Longmore, have been lying to us.’
Her eyes narrowed, jaw clenching – making the zits writhe. ‘I’m not saying anything else without a lawyer.’
The Police Custody and Security Officer printed the words. ‘VERY SARKY!!!’ on the little wipe-clean noticeboard mounted to the cell door, then clacked the viewing portal closed. Shutting Keira away.
Twin rows of identical, heavy blue doors sealed off each cell in the custody suite’s female wing. Though most of them had things like ‘BITES!’ and ‘SPITRISK!’ written on them.
The Police Custody and Security Officer was broad of shoulder and short of leg, with a no-nonsense haircut going grey at the temples, and thick-soled comfortable shoes. She turned back towards the custody desk. ‘She’s a cool one, eh? You sure she hasnae got a criminal record?’
Tufty poked at the scabbing scrape across his cheek. ‘Clean as a whistle, far as we know.’
‘Aye, and my arse squirts finest prosecco.’ The PCSO checked her watch. ‘You’ll be waiting here a while: nearest duty solicitor’s in Dundee on a double murder.’
Logan groaned. ‘Oh, for...’
‘Every bugger’s got the lurgie. Entire criminal justice system’s dropping like flies.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘All right, all right. I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Thanks.’ He turned and headed back up the stairs again.
‘But you owe me a pie or something!’
Which was fair enough.
The stairwell was every bit as awe-inspiring as a stairwell in a police stationcouldbe, only less so. Bare breeze-block walls,concrete steps, and a ‘motivational’ poster hanging on every landing.
Tufty followed him up. ‘Do you think our half-naked bloke reallywasCharles MacGarioch, Sarge?’
‘If you hadn’tlosthim we wouldn’t have to guess.’
The wee loon drooped. ‘I got wanged by aminibus!’ He held up a pair of pinched fingers. ‘Came this close to getting squished. And I’m too young to be squished – I has a bidie-in and a lovenest to support.’ Poking at his scabs again. ‘By the time I’d picked myself up out the bushes, there was no sign of the scrunk-wadger...’ Then Tufty scuffed his feet on the bare steps, head hanging. ‘Sorry, Sarge. I should’ve caught him.’
Urgh...
Yeah, well.
Suppose it wasn’tentirelyhis fault.
Logan waved it away. ‘If there’s one thing Charles MacGarioch’s good at, it’s scarpering.’
And burning poor bastards alive...
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