by John Carson
‘I’m just having fun, Jimmy. Besides, you’ve had your fair share of doing daft things.’
‘Name fucking one.’
‘I can’t offhand, but there have been plenty of times –’
Dunbar held up a hand. ‘Stop talking.’
‘Just saying.’
‘Don’t just say. I’ve heard enough of you saying.’
Evans drank some more of the tasteless liquid. ‘Anyway, boss, I’m glad you’re still in the holiday mood, wearing your ugly sweater.’
‘This is my normal sweater, cheeky bastard.’
‘Oh, right. I thought Oxfam had a sale on or something.’
‘Listen, until you get your fucking hair sorted, don’t try to divert my attention from you having it away with “Let’s Be Having You” Linda.’
A uniformed sergeant was walking towards them. ‘I haven’t heard that name in a long time,’ he said, smiling.
Dunbar just nodded to him as he passed.
Evans looked puzzled. ‘He knows her?’
‘Everybody in the station knows Linda. I haven’t personally been properly introduced, as it were, but you go for it, son. Her catchphrase used to be, Come Fry with me.’
‘She told me about that. Because she was a flight attendant.’
Dunbar laughed. ‘No, son, she used to say that because she worked in the chippie along the road and it was appropriate since her last name is Fry. She was never a bloody flight attendant.’
‘She’s the station bike?’
‘I’m not saying anything more about your girlfriend. Except one thing: she was around here when you were still in high school.’
‘Aw fuck. She never said.’
‘She collects coppers like some women collect recipes. And let me tell you something: she’s older than me. She left fifty behind a long time ago.’
Evans looked at the floor, where he expected a big hole to appear so he could jump into it. ‘What am I going to do now?’
‘Look for the rainbow.’
They stopped outside the incident room.
‘Don’t tell anybody, Jimmy, for God’s sake.’
‘My lips are sealed. But come on, Stewart’s in my office,’ Dunbar said. Detective Superintendent Calvin Stewart, their boss.
‘Why’s he in there?’
‘You’ll see. Muckle McInsh called me last night and I called Stewart. He said to bring you in today.’
‘It’s Boxing Day. I had plans.’
‘If they’re with Linda, I think you should tell her duty calls. We’ll be going away.’
‘I will. I’ll tell her I’ve been transferred to Kathmandu or something.’
‘Do whatever it takes, son. She’ll use you, then she’ll be on to the next mug.’
‘I had fun with her, I have to admit.’
‘Look to settle down with somebody. That lassie in CID I was talking to, she split up with her boyfriend a couple of months ago and she was asking what your situation was.’
‘Really?’ Evans said. ‘Did you tell her I was single?’
‘What is it they say on Facebook? It’s complicated. But now you’ve walked in looking like that, I’d be surprised if Bigfoot wanted to go out with you.’
They went into the incident room, filled with the same on-call CID officers, and saw Stewart across in Dunbar’s office. Dunbar walked over to his office and knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar.
Stewart was sitting in Dunbar’s chair, wearing an ugly Christmas sweater with flying snowmen.
‘Fucking jumper. It’s almost as bad as yours, Jimmy. Who started this craze anyway?’
‘I wish I knew. They’re making a fortune.’ Dunbar and Evans sat down on the other two chairs. Dunbar noticed Stewart had plasters on three of his fingers.
‘You know what my wife got me for Christmas?’ Stewart said.
They both shook their heads.
‘Divorce papers.’ Stewart held up a hand. ‘I know what you’re going to say.’
Why did it take her so long?
‘How could she leave a machine like this?’ Stewart finished before either detective could answer. ‘That’s what I thought. But she is. And you know what her parting shot was? You couldn’t burn your blinds with a fucking lighter.’
Dunbar looked at his blinds. Some of the slats were melted. He looked over at Evans as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and needed the younger detective to confirm what he was seeing.
‘Well, I fucking showed her, eh?’
‘Aye, you certainly did that,’ Dunbar said. ‘But I’m assuming you wanted to see us after my phone call last night?’
‘Oh aye, that. Michael McInsh’s phone call.’ Everybody Dunbar knew called DI Michael McInsh ‘Muckle’, because of the big man’s size, but obviously Stewart didn’t.
The superintendent carried on. ‘You told me some fucker hanged a lassie in the trees on some estate he’s working at. I got on the phone to the local sergeant. Right stroppy bastard he was. Lucky you’re the one going up or else I’d…’ Stewart looked at the wall for a moment, thinking of some imaginary punishment he’d inflict on the unsuspecting uniform.
‘Burn his blinds?’ Dunbar said.
‘What? Oh, fuck, there you go. Maybe burn the whole station down. Get a good fire going. Anyway, he whined about us going up north. He told me in no uncertain terms that they have real police officers up there who are perfectly capable of doing the job. Why is it those little pissant stations are run by a uniform who thinks he’s Columbo?’
‘And you told him?’
‘I told him I’d kick his bollocks if he ever used that tone with me again. Then I said both of you and two of Lothian and Borders’ finest were going up to start the investigation.’
Dunbar wondered if Stewart would ever get used to the fact that Scotland had a unified police force now. The Lothian and Borders name had been sucked up into the pile along with every other police force in Scotland, and now they were one big, happy family. Except for a uniformed sergeant somewhere up north.
‘Where’s the place again?’ Stewart said.
‘Blairgowan,’ Dunbar said. ‘Near the Cairngorms. Not to be confused with Blairgowrie.’
‘Aye, that’s it. Get up there with that scruffy bastard and see what’s going on. Harry McNeil and that wife of his are going too. I spoke to my counterpart in Edinburgh – I think he was more pished than I was last night – and he agreed we should get up there. Then I called my boss and he did whatever it is he does, which I think involves a pack of tarot cards, and here we are. Inverness have a serial rapist and he’s just killed a lassie, so they don’t have the manpower to go down there. I hope you had a nice Christmas break; looking at that paraffin lamp there, I’m guessing he didn’t get an electric razor for a present.’
‘Well, since it’s Boxing Day, I sort of had plans,’ Evans said.
‘Did it involve drink and women?’ Stewart asked.
Evans hesitated. ‘My mother’s been taken ill.’
‘If she’s hammered back as much booze as you have, I can see why. Would you like to take some time off?’
‘I wouldn’t mind, sir.’
‘I bet you fucking wouldn’t. You’ve just had six weeks off. Get your arse up to the Cairngorms. They have booze up there, but if I get a report you’ve been out on the lash, getting pished and tossing your bag in public, well, you know what will happen.’ Stewart flicked his lighter a few times.
‘Yes, sir. Be my pleasure to accompany DCI Dunbar.’
‘Good. Now fuck off, and make sure you tell that twat in uniform about me parting his hair with my lighter.’
‘Will do. Hopefully, if he’s a smoker, he’ll have his own.’
‘Oh, by the way,’ Stewart said, ‘a uniform came in here a wee while ago and I was eavesdropping. He was talking about Linda Fry. Any of you bastards seen her recently? I’m sure she nicked my watch years ago.’
‘I haven’t seen her in a long time,’ Dunbar said.
‘Well, somebody has,’ Stewar
t said. ‘Manky bastard. Must be desperate.’ He looked at Evans. ‘I know a young laddie like you wouldn’t touch her. Especially since you’ve been fucking milking your time off with a broken ankle. You know, when I was in the army, we could run ten miles with a broken ankle and still make it back to the barracks in time for our tea. Fucking young ones nowadays.’
Dunbar and Evans stood up and they left the office.
‘Hobson’s choice, eh, son?’ said Dunbar. ‘Stay here and entertain the station mascot or come with me up north. Either way, fun will be had by all.’
‘Scruffy bastard?’ Evans said. ‘This is a designer beard.’
‘Pish.’
A man wearing overalls walked into the incident room and knocked on the office door. He went in and didn’t close the door all the way. They heard muted voices before Stewart blew a gasket.
‘How the fuck should I know who burnt the fucking blinds? Probably one of you lot, bunch of lazy bastards. Just get on with it and replace the fucking things. And no raking about in the fucking drawers either.’
Dunbar and Evans left the incident room.
‘Do you think I’ll get my friendship ring back?’ Evans asked.
‘You’ll be lucky to get a discount on a fish supper after you tell her it’s finished. Never mind, there’s plenty more fish –’
Evans held up a hand. ‘Salt in the wounds, boss.’
Three
‘It was really nice of your brother to have us over for Christmas dinner yesterday,’ DS Alex Maxwell said as they drove over the Queensferry Crossing bridge. ‘I like Derek. And Briony’s a good cook.’
‘It was good to see them again,’ DCI Harry McNeil said to his wife. ‘I just wish Chance had been able to get some time off.’
‘Our boy will be home soon.’ Alex always referred to her stepson as her boy, although there was only twelve or so years between them.
‘When he called last week, he said he’d seen Jimmy and Robbie a few times. Jimmy’s keeping an eye on him.’
‘It would be great if he eventually got into CID.’
‘He’ll have to do his two years’ probation first. It’s only been six months, give or take.’
The road was wet and the snow grew heavier the further north they travelled as the elevation rose.
‘I was looking forward to having a few jars in the bowling club tonight too. Hopefully, this case won’t take too long and we can head back home for Hogmanay,’ Harry said.
‘Out with the old and in with the new. Not husbands, though. You’re quite safe.’
Harry looked at her. ‘I already knew I was. I’m priceless. One of a kind.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.’
‘I don’t have the strength to argue. Jeni Bridge is a hard taskmaster. Boxing Day. I ask you. Just because she’s on her own and doesn’t like anybody else having fun.’
‘Some poor woman has been murdered, let’s not forget that,’ Alex said. ‘And let’s cut Jeni some slack. She works hard to keep Edinburgh in line.’
‘That’s it, bring the mood down.’ He closed his eyes and tried not to think of his late mother. She should have been at the Christmas table, but instead her ashes had been scattered in the cold sea at Inverness.
Derek had taken it hard. Drinks after dinner had turned into reminiscing about their mother, and one drink had led to another. Before Harry knew it, he was being poured into the back of the car. He didn’t remember getting home or climbing the stairs to their flat. He’d hear all about it from Alex soon, though.
‘You going to invite your folks round for a drink on New Year’s?’ he asked, keeping his eyes shut. If he wasn’t looking out the windscreen, he wasn’t about to throw up.
‘Nope.’
He felt there was another fuck ’em coming, but she had apparently run out of expletives to use on her father. Her parents hadn’t come to their wedding and Alex had been more angry than disappointed. They hadn’t been in communication since, and sometimes Harry felt guilty because they thought he was wrong for their daughter. He had reached out to her parents, but her father had just shouted abuse at him. Harry had kept calm and told the old man that if he ever changed his mind, he knew where Alex was. What he had really wanted to say to him wouldn’t have gone down too well.
Alex seemed lost in her own thoughts now, so he took the chance to catch up on some sleep.
The further north they went, the heavier the snow became, but the Audi took the weather in its stride.
‘We’re almost there,’ Alex said eventually. ‘I hope you didn’t need a pit stop in Pitlochry after all.’
‘No, I’m fine,’ he lied, needing to go now but not wanting to admit that she had been right when she said that he would be desperate by the time they got to Blairgowan.
‘No, you’re not. I bet you’re bursting right now.’ She grinned at him.
‘Well, you know what they say about only renting drink for a wee while.’
‘Cheers for that. There’s an image I won’t get out of my mind.’
She slowed down for a truck and watched as somebody on a suicide mission cut out from the line of traffic and went past in a splash of snow and ice.
‘Some yahoo going skiing, no doubt,’ she said, leaving the main road. A Welcome to Blairgowan sign ushered them into the small town.
There was a large board at the side of the road advertising Christmas Land, the best Christmas market in the world! – followed in brackets by the word probably, to ward off any lawsuits, no doubt.
‘I hope this place has some life in it,’ Harry said, seeing a boarded-up shop.
‘I’m sure they serve drink, so you boys should be okay.’
‘I was thinking of colour TV.’
The satnav took them to the hotel in the centre of town. The Highland View. It was a three-story affair and looked busy. Snow covered everything except the main road, which had been sprayed with salt.
‘Doesn’t it look pretty?’ Alex said. ‘I wish we were here just to have fun.’
‘I’m sure we can fit some fun in.’
Alex called Jimmy Dunbar and he told her they had parked in a small car park opposite the hotel on the other side of the road. He came out of the main door, a hooded parka on.
‘Hello, sir,’ she said.
‘Since when did you start calling me sir?’ Dunbar replied. He walked forward and looked into the car. Harry had somehow managed to doze off.
‘Hi, Harry.’
‘Hi, Jimmy. How was the trip north?’
‘I thought that plane back in the summer was bad enough, the one we flew to the island on. But the bloody car was just as bad. I gave Robbie a carrier bag and told him if he got puke on my shoes, he’d have one inserted where only a proctologist would be able to find it.’
‘Where is he?’
‘He’ll be ready shortly. Let’s get you checked in and then we can go to this estate. It’s not far. I called Muckle and told him we wouldn’t be much longer. I want to see the crime scene before it gets dark.’
Harry got out of the car and got their bags from the back.
‘How was Christmas?’ Dunbar asked.
‘Partying like it’s nineteen ninety-nine. Only my body doesn’t know it’s twenty-twenty.’
‘I hear you.’
They crossed the road and checked in. Twenty minutes later, they met up in the lobby.
Dunbar looked at his watch and then at Evans. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I thought I’d have a quick shave. And give myself a haircut.’
‘Why don’t you take time to learn the fucking bagpipes while you’re at it? Anything but get ready to go to a crime scene.’
‘I wasn’t that long.’
Dunbar turned to Harry. ‘Robbie decided that the Taliban look was too much.’ He snatched the woollen cap off Evans’s head. ‘Baldy as well. Right down to the wood. Why didn’t you show our friends from the east your new-wave man-bun?’
‘It was a ponytail,’ said Evans. ‘B
ut I thought I’d smarten myself up now I’m back on duty.’
‘Daft bastard fell down some stairs and broke his ankle,’ Dunbar told Harry. ‘He’s been skiving for the past six weeks. Oh, that reminds me, did you ever meet Linda Fry when you were in Glasgow?’
‘I didn’t meet her,’ Harry said, ‘but I’ve heard of her. Why? You thinking of leaving Cathy for her?’
‘Not a chance. I’d rather live on my own with Scooby.’ Dunbar gave Evans a look. ‘Robbie here’s looking around for a good woman. He’s not got anybody on the go just now. Have you, son?’
‘No. Dad.’
‘Be it on your heid,’ Dunbar whispered to Evans as Harry and Alex crossed over the road to the car park.
Then Dunbar looked at Evans. ‘How did you manage to cut your own hair?’
‘I brought my own hair clippers. I think I missed a wee bit at the back. Maybe you could help me trim it later.’
‘Aye, fucking watch me.’
They followed their colleagues across the road and got into the Land Rover that Dunbar had taken from the pool.
‘It was like driving a bloody truck all the way up here,’ Dunbar said.
‘I thought it was okay,’ Evans said from the back seat.
‘That’s because you were sleeping most of the way. Drunken sod. He’s still hungover from yesterday.’
Dunbar drove, while Alex, looking at Google Maps, directed him. Ten minutes later, they found the Blairgowan estate.
‘Just like old times, eh?’ Dunbar said, pulling into the large, snow-covered car park in front of the huge stone house and parking next to other vehicles. ‘The four of us up at that Highland Hotel.’
A large man with a big dog was waiting for them at the front door. Sparky got excited as if he remembered them, which was better than him ripping their balls off.
‘Muckle, good to see you again,’ Dunbar said. ‘Still not made it back to Glasgow, I see.’ He bent down to pet the dog, who was wagging his tail and nuzzling him.
‘Good to see you again, sir. Aye well, maybe after this gig finishes. But if you don’t mind, I’ll show you the crime scene first. Then we can talk.’
Muckle led the way round the house and across the huge lawn at the back. As they entered the woods, the German shepherd started to tug at his lead.