Against the Clock by John Carson (best mobile ebook reader TXT) 📕

nodded at them. ‘Good to meet you all. Muckle has told me good things about you.’

‘Has he?’ Shug asked.

‘No, not really. He said you were a shower of bastards.’ Barclay looked at Shug’s face before smiling. ‘Just kidding. Come on, let me show you where the wee girl was found.’

Patrol vehicles were still parked in the car park in front of the abandoned leisure park.

‘This has seen better days,’ Shug said.

‘Aye, it’s been shut a few years. Vandals got in and wreaked havoc with it until the Armadillos were put up,’ Barclay told them. ‘Watch Sparky’s paws in here. There’s broken glass everywhere.’

‘Whoah, what the fuck?’ Finbar O’Toole said when they got inside, striding across to them. ‘A fucking dug in here? You’ve got to be shitting me.’

‘This is former DI Michael McInsh,’ Barclay said.

‘I don’t give a flying fuck who he is. I’ve had enough of you lot pissing all over my crime scene today. Who said you could come in here anyway?’

‘Oy!’ a voice boomed behind O’Toole. The man’s face fell. Clearly, he hadn’t expected Calvin Stewart to still be on the premises. ‘Shut your fuckin’ haggis chute, ya bagpipe shaggin’ wee bastard. I asked them to come here today. Unlike you, McInsh has spent a lot of time working in this city.’

‘This is fucking unheard of. A dug at a crime scene.’

‘Have you never seen a fuckin’ polis dug up close? I can arrange for him to let that bastard loose on your fuckin’ bawbag.’

‘Radge,’ Muckle whispered to Sparky, the code word for the Shepherd to start snarling and barking. He started pulling hard against his harness.

O’Toole jumped back, gasping. ‘See what I mean? It’s oot o’ control. It could fucking kill one o’ us at any time. Michty me.’

‘Michty me?’ scoffed Stewart ‘You think you’re Oor Wullie’s stunt double or something? Stop talking in tongues, ya wee fanny. Yer in Glasgow now, so you can leave that fucking twang behind. Now get oot the fuckin’ way while the real men – and woman – get on with the job. And I want a fuckin’ report on my desk by the end of the day. And by God, there’d better be some decent reading in there, nothing that looks like a page from the fuckin’ Broons. Michty me, indeed. Now, get oot mah fuckin’ face.’

‘Aye well, make sure he doesn’t pish on the crime scene.’

‘He’s well trained,’ Muckle said. ‘He’ll no’ pish anywhere.’ He locked eyes with the forensics investigator for a second, hoping he would say something else so he could add to Stewart’s rant, but the forensics man just turned on his heel and walked away.

Sparky was still barking at the man. ‘Easy, ya hoor. You’ll have me in that fucking swimming pool and there’s no water in it.’

Sparky stopped barking and wagged his tail.

‘I take it you don’t like him, sir?’ Muckle said, keeping Sparky on a tight leash now, to avoid the debris on the floor. The dog had stopped snarling.

‘He got under my fuckin’ skin the minute I clapped eyes on him, Michael. And he just keeps rubbing me the wrong way.’

Stewart was the only person who called Muckle by his given name.

‘Right, she was in here. The pathologist took her away. She’s going to do a post-mortem today since it’s urgent, then the wee lassie will be transported back to Edinburgh.’

‘Where exactly was she?’ Muckle asked.

‘Lying on that table. This is the first-aid room, and all the stuff was left behind when this place closed down. This room is close to the entrance, so when he set the Armadillo off, he knew they would come in and have a scout around, and that this was one of the first places they would look.’

‘No witnesses, I take it, on the day she went missing?’ Shug asked.

‘None,’ Muckle answered. ‘We asked for people to come forward and there were plenty of sightings, but nothing came to fruition. It wasn’t her.’

‘What was the weather like that day?’ Vern asked.

‘It was raining. I remember thinking that the kids looked like they hadn’t got dry after being in the pool. Why?’

‘I was trying to picture what people would be wearing. If somebody had an umbrella, it would have been easy for them to hide under it.’

‘Aye, that’s a good point,’ Barclay said.

‘Oh, that’s a nice dog you’ve got there,’ said one of the white-suited techs, standing at the doorway. Sparky wagged his tail at her. ‘Can I clap him?’

‘Sure.’ Muckle loosened the leash a bit and the Shepherd went over to see her.

‘How old is he?’

‘Just turned three.’

‘Oh, you’re such a good boy. Yes, you are.’ The girl laughed and walked away after rubbing Sparky’s ears.

‘The buses were parked at the far end of the car park,’ Muckle said. ‘The kids came out the front door and turned left, along the pavement, and they had to cross the road. Before that they were told to wait in line for the second class to come out. It was pelting down, one of the teachers said, and a few of the boys were acting up, clowning around, and there were other people going into the swimming pool, so in general there was a lot of confusion. It was only when they got on the bus and did a head count that they realised Alice Brent was missing.’

‘We have to wonder why he took her and kept her alive for five years,’ Barclay said. ‘Usually, they’re dead within forty-eight hours.’

‘He obviously had this all planned out,’ Shug said.

‘Give us your thoughts, wee man,’ Stewart said.

‘There are a lot of people going about. Lines of kids waiting to get on the bus. Adults with kids coming and going. Now, I know that could be a recipe for disaster; a child being snatched might draw attention. And Alice was ten and bigger than, say, a five year old, so she might have had the gumption to shout out if somebody grabbed her. There’s a possibility, then, that she knew her abductor