There was a wee pause, then:‘Are you serious?’
‘Yup.’
He leaned on the railing.
The river was higher now, raised by the incoming tide, but Scenes had still managed to get a blue-plastic marquee erected over the riverbank, extending out into the water. A couple of SOC-suited figures headed inside, carrying a body bag. Good luck to them, with the sun beating down it had to be like a kiln in there.
‘And you’redefinitelynot shitting with me?’
‘Doreen’s now officially in sole charge of the search. Get your farty arse back to the ranch and commandeer an incident room. I want a Murder Board, HOLMES instance, and some bodies ready to go by the time I get there.’
Suspicion scuttled down the phone.‘ButI’mrunning the team, right?’
‘Reporting to me, but yeah: you’re running the team.’
A drone whined past overhead, its dead gimbal eye taking in the scene, ‘SKY NEWS’ emblazoned down the side.
Tempting to flip it the Vs, but thatprobablywouldn’t go down well back at headquarters.
Biohazard barked out a wee laugh.‘Only been acting DI a couple of hours and I’m already leading a murder case!’
‘The Chief Super still has to OK it.’
‘Doreen’s gonna poop breeze blocks when she finds out!’You could almost hear him rubbing his hands.‘There’s me swanking about the air-conditioned office, while she’s stuck here sweating her boobs off in a Tyvek romper suit.’
‘Don’t wind her up, it’s not nice. You’re—’
‘Hold on, I can see her on the other side of the river...’There was a scrunching sound, and everything got a bit muffled.‘HOY! DOREEN! GUESS WHO’S OUTTA HERE? ME!’Followed by a jagged burst of maniacal laughter.‘I GOT A MURDER TO RUN!...THAT’S RIGHT! THE SEARCH IS ALLLL YOURS, BABY!’Then Biohazard was back on the phone again.‘Ooh, she does not look happy.’Giggling away tohimself. Then:‘How big a team do I get to lord it over, Guv? A dozen? Two dozen?’
‘You’ll be sodding lucky. Do the best you can, OK?’
Going by today’s staffing crisis, that would probably be three officers, a stapler, and a bottle of Tipp-Ex.
Tufty appeared from somewhere behind Scenes’ Transit, bearing two large wax-paper cups. Somehow, he’d managed to swap his fighting suit for the full Police-Scotland-uniform black, complete with peaked cap, stabproof vest, high-vis waistcoat, and overstuffed utility belt.
‘Got to go. Official duties call.’ Logan hung up, then frowned at Tufty. ‘How did you...?’
The wee spud did a wiggly turn, showing off his new outfit. ‘The Monstrous Mildewed Maiden made me fetch a bunch of stuff from the station, and I always keep a spare T-shirt and trousers in my locker. That and clean socks. And pants.’ A sage nod. ‘In this job, youneverknow when clean pants might come in handy.’ A pause. A blink. ‘Oh, and:’ he held out one of the cups, ‘ta-daaaa!’
Logan raised an eyebrow. ‘If this is meant to be a bribe, you can stop right there.Rennie’s my sidekick.’
That made him deflate a bit. ‘Oh...’
‘Mind you,’ Logan accepted the cup, ‘shame to waste it.’ Taking a sip of iced coffee far nicer than anything they served in the tenth circle of Hell.
Then the pair of them stood there, drinking their drinks, while not very much happened on the riverbank down below.
The Sky News drone whined past again, doing a slow pan this time.
Tufty produced his phone. ‘DS Rennie did get me to dig out details on everyone reported missing since last Sunday.’
Course he did.
‘Lazy sod.’
A pout. ‘But I did work hard!’ Holding out the phone. ‘Look I did make maps and graphs and everything!’
‘Not you:Rennie.’