‘Hard to feel sorry for them.’ Back to ‘Paedo Peter’ with his haunted look.
What was it that art teacher at Lizz’s new school said about having a painting in the Royal Academy? Something about not everyone enjoying their fifteen minutes of fame?
Hmmm...
Logan pulled out his phone and called Tufty.
The wee sod was doing his pretend old-man voice again, only muffled around a mouthful of something.‘I say, Holmes, is the game afoot? Only, the darndest thing: I’ve been waylaid by acustard slice!’
‘Got a complicated IT one for you.’
‘Worry not: I have my trusty service revolver and a cup of tea with me. You know, this puts me in mind of the ratherstrangecase of—’
‘Just shut up and listen. Is there any way to find out who’s been dragged through the mud during Natasha Agapova’s time editing theScottish Daily Postand theAberdeen Examiner?’
Silence.
Not even chewing.
He checked the screen, but the call was still connected.
‘Tufty?’
‘You’re making with the jokey-ha-ha, right?’Then a groan.‘It’d takeyears, Sarge. We’d have to go through hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of issues, with dozens and dozens of stories in every one. And most of it won’t be online, either. You’re talking about going to the newspapers’ archives and manually searching everything on microfiche!...Years!’
‘Fat lot of use you are.’ He gazed up at the tiles again. ‘How you getting on with the footage from Nicholas Wilson’s BMW?’
‘I is processing as we speak – looking-up every number plate of every car the cameras has recorded, then am running PNC checks on the registered keepers and named drivers, cos I does has a thorough and do specialise in being athinlot of use!’
‘Keep at it.’ Logan hung up, then sagged. Then did a three-sixty. Then sagged again.
Steel ignored him – munching away at her butty, when sheshould’vebeen asking what was wrong, offering support and helpful suggestions. Maybe a cup of tea...
He pointed. ‘It’s rude to wear your hat at the dinner table.’
Chomp, masticate, chew. She put on a robot voice: ‘I’m sorry, Roberta isn’t in at the moment, please bugger off after the bleep.’ Deep breath.‘Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!’
At which point, Logan’s phone burst into ‘Space Oddity’.
Maybe the wee loon had found something?
He hit the green button. ‘That was quick.’
Tufty whispered out of the speaker.‘Sarge! I does has an visitor of extreme angriness, who is demanding to speak to the manager! Exclamation mark!’
Great,morework.
Logan had his third and final sag. ‘I’ll be right there.’
Logan barged into the open-plan office, and there was Detective Inspector Beardy Beattie huffing-and-puffing I’ll-blow-your-cubicle-right-downing. Tubby and bearded, his hair was vanishing from the back, as if it’d taken up holy orders and not informed the rest of his head yet. His black Police Scotland T-shirt looked on the verge of splitting its seams, while his belt must’ve been cutting off circulation north of the border, because his face was turning puce. ‘Have you gotanyidea what sort of problem this causes? Well? Answer me,Constable!’
Tufty was squirreled back in his chair, looking storm-blown. ‘Eeeek...’ He looked up and waved. ‘Sarge! Sarge: Detective Inspector Beattie thinks—’
‘I don’tthink, Iknow!’ He glowered over his shoulder at Logan. ‘Thiscreatureclaims he’s following your orders.’
‘Is there a problem?’
The shade of puce darkened. ‘Is there aproblem? Is there aproblem?’ A trembling finger pointed at Tufty. ‘He’s been running non-stop PNC searches for hours!’
