Still, at least he hadn’t pished himself.
Colin made for the door marked ‘LEGAL’, cos the buggers got all gastrointestinal when he published anything that might get the paper sued. ‘Hoy, Louis: you better no’ still be here from last night.’
The beardy wee shite jerked upright in his seat, swivelling around. ‘Erm...No?’
Aye...
Colin abandoned Legal for a minute, and marched up to the editor’s door instead. Gave it a wee knock. Wiggled the handle – locked. Then a proper thump with the side of his fist, putting a bit of welly into it. ‘WAKEY-WAKEY!’ Really pounding on it now. ‘POOR LOUIS NEEDS A SLASH!’
Poor Louis jumped to his feet. ‘Don’t tell her that!’
Daft bastard.
‘IS IT OK IF HE DOES IT OUT HERE, OR WOULD YOU RATHER HE PISSES THROUGH YOUR KEYHOLE?’
‘God’s sake, Colin!’
A grin. Abandoning the performance to lean back against her door instead. ‘Relax: she’s no’ in, yet.’ Nodding at the car park. ‘Her Majesty’s Porschestillhasnae arrived.’
‘Oh...’ Louis sank into his seat again.
‘See that’s the problem with editors today: nae work ethic. Aye, they’re stuffed up the bahookie with management-speak and buzzword-salad, but see doing someactualwork? There’s no’ a singleoneof the buggers knows a “mutton” from a “nut” or an “orphan” from a “running turn”.’
Cluelessness radiated off the useless fud. ‘Sorry?’
‘Have youse eventriedcalling her at home? Maybe asking nicely if she’s planning on gracing us with her presence any time before the next ice age?’
‘Oh...’
Course he hadn’t.
No wonder the whole Newspaper Industry was going down the crapper – naebody had a sodding clue.
‘Away with you!’ Colin pointed off down the corridor. ‘The great Natasha Agapovaisnae in; go design us something better than a right-wing shite-rag knock-off, ya stripy wee fanny.’
Pink riding high in his cheeks, Louis got to his sneakeredfeet and shuffled off, with many a backward look. Cos the boy was about as cool as a bucket of burning jobbies.
Colin gave him a wee wave, then, soon as Louis was gone, rolled his eyes and knocked on Legal’s door.
Kids today...
16
‘...to tell us all about her new book,PC Munro and the Beekeeper’s Crypt, which is a great read if you’re the kind of person who likes books...’
‘Grandholm Drive’ always sounded so much grander than it really was. Probably because it had the word ‘grand’, right there in the title. But it didn’t have fancy houses, or imposing buildings, or buildings ofanykind – just trees and scrub and weeds, either side of the patched tarmac.
Which was just as well, becausetechnicallyLogan was committing an offence under Section 3 of the Road Traffic Act 1988, by holding a printout against the steering wheel while driving. Making for the bridge back into Tillydrone. Eyes flicking down to check the list of Charles MacGarioch’s known associates, complete with contact details and any recorded offences.
The question was: which one to interview first?
Visit the nearest address, then spiral outwards, or work through them alphabetically, one by one?
‘...coming up in the last twenty minutes of the show! So stick around for that.’
Off to the left, the high-rise blocks of Tillydrone poked into the air, like the pins on an upturned plug, sunlight sparkling off their windows. But according to Logan’s list, none of MacGarioch’s mates lived there.
Which was odd. You’d think he’d have made at leastonelocal friend growing up.
