A Dark So Deadly - Stuart MacBride 14 стр.

After a wee pause, Franklin shook it. Rosalind.

Rose for short?

No.

Oh... Dotty wheeled herself back to her desk. Ah well.

Callum swept his hand around the room. And thats us. All the other departments think were useless, the bosses give us boring or horrible cases, and this is the first exciting enquiry weve had since, well, ever. But if you

Knockity, knock. The door swung open and in waltzed McAdams, a stack of four pizza boxes balanced in one hand. Behold, little ones, Mother and I have returned. Lo, I bring succour. A grin. Well, one ham-and-pineapple, one meat feast, a four seasons, and a pepperoni, but its the thought that counts. He dumped the boxes on the nearest desk. I trust youve all been beavering away, advancing the plot and revealing character through action rather than exposition... A frown. Constable MacGregor, why are you still here? Go home.

Callum pointed at the whiteboard with all its lines and data. But you said

Detective Constable Franklin! McAdams patted her on the back. Excellent job on the murder board. Very thorough.

Her cheeks darkened slightly. But I didnt

Nonsense. Credit where its due. He picked a sheet of paper from the nearest desk, crumpled it up and hurled it at Watt.

It bounced off his floppy fringe. Hoy!

What did I tell you about signing off at the end of a shift? I just checked the logs and apparently youre still on duty from yesterday.

Watt cleared his throat. I was busy.

I dont care if youre King Busy, ruler of all the Busy Bee people in Busy Buzzy Bee Land: sign out! Im not authorising any overtime till you get that through your pointy wee head.

But. Sarge

No. McAdams glanced at Callum. Thought I told you to go home, Constable. Youve got a full day tomorrow: all those museums to phone.

Oh you are kidding me! I was the one who

To each man his task, according to his merits. Some more than others. A wink. You, for example, can leave the murder investigation to the professionals.

Callum bit his bottom lip. Arms trembling. Hands curled into fists.

Good night, Constable.

He took a step forward.

McAdams grinned.

And there it was: he wanted a punch on the nose. With Franklin, Watt, and Dotty as witnesses, McAdams could go to Professional Standards and get him suspended at the very least. It wouldnt look very good at his review tomorrow either.

Deep breath. Callum forced his hands to open. Fine. Grabbed his coat. But Im taking one of these with me. He helped himself to a pizza box, warm against his fingertips, and marched out of the door.

Elaine? Hello? Callum balanced the pizza in one hand, propped his bike against the wall, and clunked the front door shut. Slipped out of his soggy jacket and kicked off his wet shoes. Left soggy-sock footprints on the laminate flooring through into the kitchen. God what a day. Utterly soaked.

The sounds of some sort of cookery programme oozed out through the closed living room door.

At least the backpack was waterproof. Callum unloaded it onto the kitchen table, raised his voice so shed hear him in the lounge. DID YOU HEAR? THEY SAY ITS GOING TO BE THE WETTEST SEPTEMBER ON RECORD.

No reply.

ELAINE?

Nothing.

He stuck the Tupperware box for his sandwiches in the sink. Took todays note and put it up on the fridge with all the others shed sneaked in with his lunches over the last month little inspirational quotes, terrible puns, and the occasional dirty joke. Most came with a drawing. Todays was a rotund badger with teeny legs, taking a bite out of a pig, above the legend, I LOVE YOU MORE THAN DESMOND THE BADGER LOVES BACON. Which was nice to know.

Callum flicked through The Monsters Who Came for Dinner, smiling at the old familiar illustrations.

Come on: thered be plenty of time to read it after dinner.

He emptied his pockets, stripped to his pants, and threw his fighting suit in the washing machine. Set it to tumble dry.

Stuck his head back into the hall. YOU WANT TEA?

Nope. Whatever she was watching, it had her.

Callum stuck the kettle on and the oven too. Wandered through to the lounge.

Some posh English bloke with curly hair and big nostrils filled the TV screen wandering through a forest somewhere, banging on about how tasty squirrels were if you cooked them in a nice ragout.

Elaine was curled up on the sofa with her back to the door, wearing her comfies, a tartan fleecy blanket pulled over her enormous pregnant bulge. A bowl rested in her lap, containing a mixture of marshmallows and crisps.

It wasnt a big living room: barely enough space to take a three-seater sofa and an armchair; a fake coal fire that groaned and flickered; a coffee table with a collection of wooden ornaments on it; a TV, complete with squirrel-mongering celebrity chef; and four floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stuffed to overflowing with novels.

Their blinds were open, the darkness on the other side turning the window into a mirror reflecting back one thin pasty body in blue underpants. The lights in the houses opposite twinkled through Callum, making him sparkle like the worlds least scary vampire. Then the eight oclock train to Edinburgh rumbled past, its glowing windows making rectangular spotlights sweep across the back garden. Searching.

He crossed the room and closed the blinds, before anyone on board became overwhelmed with desire at the sight of his ancient Marks and Spencers lingerie going a bit baggy in the elastic. I got pizza for tea. Well, technically I stole pizza, and I know its not Nutella and pickles, but

A grunt rattled its way free and Elaine sat up. What? Mwake! She blinked at the room. Then the TV. Then Callum. Brushed the long brown hair from her eyes. What time is it? Cracked a huge yawn, showing off a proper Scottish set of fillings. Why are you in your pants? The corners of her eyes wrinkled. What happened to your face?

Its just gone eight.

You look like someone ran over it with a washing machine.

Ive got pizza.

Gah... Another yawn. Then she held out her arms. I had a horrible dream. You abandoned me and Peanut because we got ugly and you didnt love us any more.

Youre not ugly. He hugged her and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. Youre beautiful. You smell of cheese-and-onion, but other than that, youre safe.

Callum picked one of Elaines discarded mushrooms and put it on his own slice, adding to the pepperoni. Sat back on the couch and stuffed in another mouthful, trying not to get any on his tartan T-shirt and joggy bottoms.

Callum picked one of Elaines discarded mushrooms and put it on his own slice, adding to the pepperoni. Sat back on the couch and stuffed in another mouthful, trying not to get any on his tartan T-shirt and joggy bottoms.

Urgh... She grimaced at him. You eat like a wheelie bin.

Yronlygelous. The words all mushed up as he chewed.

Sitting on the bookshelf, the flats phone launched into a tinny rendition of the South Bank Show theme tune.

Elaine curled her top lip. Sod off. She pointed at the plate resting on top of her bulge like a makeshift tabletop. Were eating!

If its your mum, Im telling her were not in.

Let it go to voicemail. They

Cant. What if its important? He stuck his plate back on the coffee table and hauled himself out of the couch, walked round the back to the bookcases. Sooked his fingers clean and picked up the phone. Hello?

Silence.

Hello?

Still nothing.

He checked the caller display: NUMBER WITHHELD.

OK, Im

Click.

Elaine turned and looked over the back of the couch. Who is it?

No idea, they hung up. He put the phone back in the cradle. Probably some auto-dialling PPI tossers.

Probably.

Callum, while youre up?

Mmm? He turned away from the phone.

Any chance you can grab the raspberry jam from the kitchen? I think itll go great with these anchovies.

He tried not to shudder, he really did...

 every day we live

is a day closer to the day we die

11

... another six arrests in the Holyrood sex-ring investigation. Weather now, and theres more rain on the way, sorry, but it should clear up by the weekend for our very own Tartantula Music Festival in Montgomery Park! Fingers crossed. And if you havent got your tickets yet, stick around Ive got just the competition for you.

Callum marched back into the bedroom, scrubbing his hair dry on a pink towel.

This is The Very Early in the Morning Show and youre listening to me, Jane Forbes, on Castlewave FM, because youre sexy, intelligent, and looking fabulous today!

He grimaced at the naked creature in the mirror, then hauled on a pair of pants and yesterdays suit trousers. Maybe not so fabulous. Especially now the bruises Dugdale gifted him had darkened to a deep lustrous purple, ringed with blues and greens. Lucky he hadnt cracked a rib.

Right, weve got Sensational Steves Breakfast Drive-Time Bonanza coming up in thirty minutes, but that gives us loads of time for yet more stonking tunes!

Elaine peered out from under the duvet. Tmmsit?

Half six. Go back to sleep. A clean white shirt and red clip-on tie.

No, mup. Mup. She let loose a massive yawn. Sat up and had a scratch, long brown hair all flattened on one side.

Lets kick off with a Tartantula festival favourite: Nearly Blind Vera, and their new single Swarm. What sounded like a full orchestra belted out of the speakers, swelling to a

Elaine thumped her palm down on the clock radio and swivelled her legs out of bed. Shuffled out of the room in pink bunny slippers, rubbing at the small of her back. Pfff...

He pulled on clean socks and dry shoes, dragged a comb through his hair. Scowled at the purple stains on his forehead and chin. Wasnt exactly the best impression to make at a Professional Standards review, but what choice did he have?