Against the Clock, John Carson [digital ebook reader txt] 📗

check out the woman who works in the office, Janice something. Her full name is on that list. She skipped off pretty quickly when we were there.’

‘Will do, sir.’

‘What if this Mike Morton doesn’t want to give us the name of the driver who was working that Saturday?’ Evans asked.

‘We’ll let Muckle slip Sparky off his leash,’ Dunbar said.

Stewart stood up. ‘Right, laddies and lassies, I’m getting down the road. I’m knackered.’ He put a hand on Evans’s shoulder and leaned in close. ‘Like I told that wee windae-licking forensics bastard, I’m no’ deef.’

‘Aw shite,’ Evans said to Dunbar once Stewart was gone.

Dunbar laughed. ‘You and your big mouth. Don’t worry, Spunky, I’ll put in a good word for you.’

Most of them were finishing up, and they agreed they should all get some rest and meet in the office at nine the next day.

‘I think I’ll hang around here for a wee while,’ Evans said as Vern and Muckle helped clear up.

‘Will you fuck,’ Dunbar said. ‘You think I’m going down to breakfast on my own to listen to Stewart slavering a load of pish? I don’t think so. If I have to sit beside the radge at the breakfast table, so can you.’

‘Aw, come on, boss,’ Evans moaned.

‘Come on nothing. You’ll have plenty of time to see Vern when you get back home.’

‘I’ll only be ten minutes.’

‘Five minutes if you keep your boots on? Get t’ fuck down the road. I mean, I can’t physically force you, mind, but see that new lassie, Lillian? She’ll be promoted long before you. In fact, she’ll be getting a telegram from the Queen congratulating her on her diamond wedding before you get a promotion, and the lassie’s no’ even seeing anybody just now.’

‘The Queen will be deid long before that.’

‘Nobody likes a smart arse, Robbie.’

‘Look, boss, I promise you I’ll be down in that dining room alongside you tomorrow. Just tell me when you want me to chap the door.’

‘Seven thirty. Wee bastard. Don’t say I’m not good to you. And God help you if you’re one minute late.’

‘Cheers, boss.’

Dunbar shook his head and smiled at Evans behind his back. ‘Young and in love. Who’d have thought it?’

‘We were young and in love once,’ Harry said. ‘Just not with each other. You know what I mean.’

‘Aye, say it a wee bit louder, mucker, I don’t think the guards at Edinburgh Castle heard you. But talk about young love, here’s your bride now. Get home before she hears you babbling.’

Thirty-One

The next morning, their roles were switched: Alex was chipper and Harry felt knackered.

‘She seems nice,’ Alex said, sipping her hot tea at the dining table.

‘Who?’ Harry said, fiddling with his tie. He was giving serious consideration to wearing a bow tie from now on. He had never been any good at doing up a tie, making it either like a string or some huge fat thing that barely reached down past his chin.

‘Lillian. I was chatting to her last night when we were having dinner.’

‘Were you? I didn’t see you talking to her.’

‘I was. In the kitchen.’

‘What, did you warn her off with a carving knife?’ He pulled the tie out again and left the living room, going back through to the bathroom mirror.

‘Don’t be silly. We just chatted, colleague to colleague.’

She sat and looked out the window for a little while.

‘What did you say?’ Harry asked, coming back into the room.

‘I said, Lillian and I just chatted. She seems nice.’

‘She is nice. She’s good to work with. She’s a good detective.’

He went back out and finally nailed it with his tie in the bathroom. He felt agitated, having to constantly explain himself to Alex. Hopefully, she would stop going on about Lillian and see she wasn’t a threat. Harry was looking forward to becoming a father again and he didn’t want the memory soured by Alex’s mood swings.

‘You want anything for breakfast?’ she asked as he came back into the living room.

‘No, thanks. I’m going over to the hotel to meet Jimmy in a little while. I don’t feel that hungry.’

‘I could do you some toast or something.’

He looked at her smiling face and nodded. ‘Okay, some toast, then I have to go.’

‘Imagine having your seven-months-pregnant wife running after you like this,’ she said, laughing.

‘I have a different take on it, mind. Nobody’s going to believe you.’

‘Where’s the young lassie from yesterday?’ Stewart complained as Dunbar approached the table. ‘That fucking old closet who’s on today hasn’t been through yet and it’s gone seven thirty. Fuck’s sake.’

The old woman at the next table with her husband started fanning herself with her hand.

‘How long you been sitting here, sir?’ Dunbar asked, inconspicuously looking at his watch.

‘Fucking ten minutes. She must think I’m on hunger strike or something. I’m bastard well starving.’ Stewart looked at Dunbar. ‘Don’t just stand there like a lemon, Jimmy. Get your arse planted.’

Dunbar sat down, took his phone out and sent a text to Evans: Two minutes or I’m going to boot your fucking bollocks.

‘Morning, sir,’ Evans said, coming into the dining room. He heard the ding of an arriving text, took his phone out and looked at it.

‘Who’s that?’ Stewart said, demonstrating no respect for privacy.

‘Wrong number. Some fanny sending me nonsense.’

Dunbar stuck his boot out the side of the table, unseen by Stewart, and pointed to it. ‘Grab some coffee for me and you, will you, Sergeant?’

‘Absolutely.’

Evans walked away as the old waitress came in.

‘Give me the works, with extra tattie scones,’ Stewart said. ‘There’s a big tip if you can nash, ’cause we’re late for work.’

‘Coming right up, sir. And for you?’ she asked Dunbar.

‘Me and my other colleague are having toast and cereal,’ he replied, smiling at her. He knew service workers were overworked and didn’t need customers like Stewart hassling them.

‘They work hard for their money here,’ Dunbar said to Stewart once the waitress had left.

‘Keep your fucking Y-fronts on straight there, Jimmy. I was nice to her, wasn’t I?’

‘Do you