‘He’s not here, Guv. You’ve got dog walkers crawling over every bit of this...what is it, an estuary? Where the beach-and-all-that-bollocks starts? If he was here, they’d have found him by now.’
Yeah, she was probably right.
Biohazard sounded as if he was about to pop an aneurism.‘And then there’s thatstupidwoman in the bikini, wanging on about finding the body like it’s a sodding marketing opportunity! You name a broadcaster: she’s had a bash at selling them her story.’
The lift dinged, and Logan stepped out onto the rooftop level of the hospital car park. Which wasn’tquiteas tall as thebig number thirteen painted on the wall made it sound, given each ‘floor’ was only half the OXO cube’s width, and a half-step above the one before. But it was still high enough to have a great view out across the city and off to the sea, where a row of bright-orange supply ships glowed against the greying water. A flash of pale pink marked distant wind turbines, hanging motionless on the horizon, caught by the sinking sun. Though you did have to peer through the holes in the tinfoil wrapper to see them.
‘Christ’s sake: she makes her money doing soft porn videos for sadwanks! And now we’re supposed to pretend she’s some sort of hard-hitting journalist? Kate Adie in a frigging thong?’
Nearly half nine, and this bit of the car park was deserted, except for the pool car. Which Tufty had parked in the furthest corner from the lifts, for some stupid reason.
Rennie paced up and down in the distance, on the phone to someone. Rubbing his forehead and making soothing noises, so probably getting a telling-off.
The wee loon, on the other hand, had his arms out like a tightrope walker, wobbling his way along the edge of the inner parking spaces. Keeping himself ‘busy’.
‘They interviewed her on the BBC, Guv!’
‘Have you tried asking her nicely to stop?’
‘Oh,apparentlyher fans have a right to know all about it. She even took video. Of the remains!’
‘So confiscate her phone. It’s evidence in an ongoing murder investigation.’
‘I did. She and her halfwit boyfriend already uploaded a “report” to YouTube before they even called us. In her bikini!’Biohazard made a noise like a ruptured coffee machine.‘We’re trying to get it taken down, but you know what that’s like.’
‘Just...do what you can, OK?’
Logan hung up and strolled across the rooftop level. Thesun might’ve been skimming the horizon, but the black surface of the parking bays radiated heat up his trouser legs.
Tufty nodded as he approached. ‘Sarge.’
‘This what passes for “being productive” these days?’
The daft wee sod tapped his own forehead, still wobbling along the white line. Indulging in a faux-French accent that probably counted as a hate crime: ‘Zee leetle grey cells, they are a-working ’ard, monsieur Lestrade.’
‘Lestrade wasSherlock Holmes, not Poirot, you reticulated Clanger.’ Logan cupped his hands into a makeshift loudhailer and bellowed a ‘HOY!’ across the car park. ‘WE’RE LEAVING!’
Over by the ramp down to the next level, Rennie waved. Ending his call before hurrying back to the car.
Tufty climbed in behind the wheel and started her up. ‘Where to avec les automobile, monsieur?’
Good question.
Logan puffed out his cheeks, and sank into the passenger seat. ‘Back to the ranch. We’ve got half an hour till home time, and I still need to file a report on Spencer Findlater’s accident.’
Rennie bundled himself into the back. ‘Did you say “home time”? Are we getting home? Cos Emma would very much like that.’ Checking his watch. ‘Better yet, Donna, Lola, and Charlize will be in bed: we can veg in front of the telly for a change.’ Rennie closed his eyes, an expression of bliss on his silly face. ‘Eating ice cream in our pants...’
Now, there was an image to put you off your Cornetto.
By the time the pool car emerged from the multistorey car park, the road was shrouded in gloom. Sunlight might still be skimming the top layers, but it had abandoned the ground to evening’s muggy grasp.
They wended their way around the half-empty staff car park, past various ugly grey lumps of Aberdeen Royal Infirmary outbuildings, and off the hospital estate. Heading back towards the centre of town.
Not exactly the prettiest bit of the city, but it could be worse.
Especially if you liked grey.
Things got a bit greener, as they approached the junction with Argyle Place and Argyle Crescent. Then the pool car popped across the lights, and they were surrounded by it: Victoria Park on the right, Westburn Park on the left. Trees overhanging the road on both sides, shadows lengthening beneath them.