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

pay him a visit at work. People are more on their guard when they’re in their own environment. If the garage isn’t open today, we’ll jump all over him tomorrow.’

‘He was at the Robertsons’ house, but aye, I know what you mean. Maybe Harry and I could go along and have a sniff around. I’ll get the team to get the exact details of where they’re located and we can drop in on him.’

Dunbar looked at his watch and wondered where Evans was. He couldn’t blame the laddie for wanting to spend time with Vern, after all the boilers he’d been out with, but he would have felt more relaxed if Stewart hadn’t been here.

‘I spoke to DSup Percy Purcell before I came through yesterday,’ Stewart said, forking more black pudding into his mouth. Dunbar nearly gagged and averted his eyes as the young waitress returned with his breakfast.

‘There you are, sir,’ she said.

‘Thank you.’

‘You sure you’re wanting your tattie scones?’ Stewart asked.

‘I am actually. Those few beers last night have given me the hunger.’ So keep your filthy fucking mitts off them.

‘Suit yourself. But what was I saying?’

‘Percy Purcell.’

‘Oh, aye. Good lad he is. I’ve met him a few times. He’s got a dug like McInsh. But he said he’s fine with me being here, since we had one of the victims in Glasgow. I’ve to keep him in the loop.’

‘That was good of him,’ Dunbar said, tucking into his own food.

‘My arse. What was he going to say? If he’d told me to stay away, I’d have told him to bog off. I was coming through here whether he was having a pissy fit over it or not. But professional courtesy and all that. Besides, if we nab this bastard, he’ll be the one who gets to stand in front of the cameras and strut his nob like he’s the big cheese. It’s a win-win for him.’

‘Unless we don’t catch this bastard.’

Stewart chewed and pointed with his fork. ‘That’s not the fucking attitude. I expect more from you, Jimmy.’

An old woman a couple of tables over tutted to her husband and looked at Stewart.

‘What got her fucking bloomers in a twist?’ he asked Dunbar.

‘I’m not a betting man, but maybe she took offence at your choice of vocabulary.’

‘Fuddy-fucking-duddy. Anyway, we’re going to show the Edinburgh lot that we’re just as good as they are.’

‘I don’t think they look at it as a competition, sir.’

‘Pish. You think they would wait until we got home before cracking open the champagne? Don’t be so naïve, son.’

‘I just know Harry McNeil, that’s all.’

‘Money changes everybody when somebody pops their clogs in a family. Same with us detectives and collaring some psycho fuck.’

‘Can you not use such foul language?’ the old woman said.

Stewart had a mouthful of food, but Dunbar was still able to translate that Stewart was suggesting she was an overly curious bovine who was getting on in years.

Just then, Robbie Evans walked into the dining room. Dunbar had never been so glad to see the younger detective.

‘Morning, Robbie. You getting some breakfast?’

‘I’ve already eaten. I’ve been up for ages.’

‘Oh, aye?’

‘I just thought I’d get up early for a change.’

Stewart laughed. ‘Do you think we’re daft?’

For a moment, Dunbar actually thought Evans was going to answer that question. ‘Grab a coffee and sit down while we finish ours,’ he said in a tone that wasn’t meant to be argued with.

‘Nae bother.’ Evans walked away and got a coffee from the thermal jug, then joined them.

Stewart polished off the last remnants of his breakfast and burped. ‘I was just saying to Jimmy here that we should check out that wanker who owns the bus company, the one who supplied the bus that took wee Alice through to our city. I want to know everything there is to know about him.’ He then let out a belch that would have stripped wallpaper. ‘Better out than in.’

Fuck me, Dunbar thought.

‘Oh, dear,’ the old woman said.

‘Jesus, I almost brought that back up. Fucking beans play havoc with me. Lucky it didn’t come out the other end or else I’d be flushing my skids down my room’s lavvy pan.’

The old woman tutted again and told her husband she thought she was going to be sick. Dunbar wafted a hand in front of his face and pushed his plate away. Evans hid his face in his mug, breathing in the smell of the coffee to stop him chucking up his own breakfast.

‘You not having those tattie scones?’ Stewart asked.

‘Knock yourself out.’ Dirty bastard.

Dunbar hoped Harry was having a better breakfast.

Sixteen

‘Look, I’m sorry I was such a bitch yesterday,’ Alex said, coming up behind her husband as he sat at the table eating toast and drinking coffee.

‘It’s fine, honey. I know the wee yin in there is causing a storm and it’s not the real you.’

She pulled away from him and sat down opposite. ‘You got up early. I didn’t even hear you coming to bed.’

‘I was quiet,’ he replied, which wasn’t exactly a lie. He had been quiet when he took a cover from the hall closet and draped it over himself on the couch. He was glad Chance was staying along the road.

Alex looked at him for a moment and then something clicked in her head. ‘You’re working today, aren’t you?’

He drank some coffee and looked at her. There was no getting out of this. ‘I have to. Two little girls were dumped, and two teenage girls are still out there, missing. There’s no way of knowing if there’s a connection yet.’

‘God, Harry, I thought we could get out for a walk or something. Even across to Inverleith Pond. Just to spend some time together.’

‘You know as well as I do that you’d be with me at work if you weren’t…you know…’ He waved his next piece of toast in the direction of her belly.

‘Knocked up? You make me sound like some wee hoor you picked up.’

‘You know what I mean. If you weren’t on