This is your victim. PM’s at 10:00 tomorrow (don’t be late, or Prof. McAllister will dissectyou!).
Looks like either blind rage, or a punishment beating. Maybe torture?
Get onto the labs and chase the crap out of them for that DNA!
Soon as the email registered as ‘SENT’ Logan pocketed his phone and marched up the road – it wasn’t a strolling kind of day any more.
He’d made it about halfway, when the pool car appeared, something thin and poppy piffling out of the open driver’s window.
‘Doodle-dee-doo, doodle-dee-doo,
Cos I love you, doodle-dee-doo,
My heart is on fire, hot like vindaloo!
Doodle-dee, doodle-dee, doodle-dee-doo...’
Rennie took one look at Logan’s face and killed the radio. ‘What’s wrong?’
Could just show him the photos, but there was a risk – after the whole DNA-Test-Every-Man-In-Scotland rant – he’d want to celebrate, and that wouldnotgo well.
Logan forced a smile instead. ‘Someone “broke into” an old man’s Shed of Lies.’
‘Ah, OK.’ He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Mine was a crotchety pair of auld farts whose home-helpallegedlymade off with a set of silver cutlery and two crystal decanters. Silly sods didn’t get their key back before stiffing her a month’s wages for breaking a casserole dish.’ Grin. ‘Why are rich people suchtwats?’
A question for the ages.
Logan climbed into the passenger seat. ‘So, ifmyOAP was working an insurance fiddle, andyourswere—’
‘The technical term is “twats”.’
‘That just leaves the wee loon.’
Rennie put the car in gear, and off they went.
Bayview Road wasn’t as swanky as Rubislaw Den North, but then not much in Aberdeen was. It was still pretty grand, though. Even if whoever named the street was a lying sod. That or they had a massive ladder, because the only thing visible from here were the large granite houses. And even they were partially hidden behind hedges and trees.
Rennie peered through the windscreen. ‘Where is the little spud?’
‘Play nice. Or I’ll promotehimto Head Sidekick and you can go help Doreen search the riverbank.’
‘God...Totalshudderfest.’
Two doors down, a gate opened in a seven-foot-high hedge and out lolloped the little spud in question.
He paused on the pavement, turned, and waved back towards the house. Then closed the gate and stood there, face upturned, beaming back at the sun.
Rennie ponked the horn.
Tufty gavethema wave as well, then scurried up the road and clambered into the back. ‘Afternoon, Sarges.’ Rubbing his tummy with happy hands. ‘Mr and Mrs Knowles did has the loveliest of finger sandwiches and teeny quiches and strawberry tarts and meringues with rhubarb cream!’ Sigh. ‘Couldn’t eat another thing.’
There was a scowl from the driver’s seat, but Rennie kept his gob shut. His stomach rumbled a complaint, though.
It wasn’t wrong.
Logan gave the mirror a stare. ‘What about the break-in?’
‘Some poophead jimmied the patio door in the dead of night, and tried to make off with their DVD player.’