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

‘See if anybody else wants lunch. I’m Hank Marvin. And don’t get KFC. That fuckin’ car’s honkin’.’

‘How about a salad, sir?’

‘Cheeky bastard. What are you trying to say? I’m a fat bastard like you?’

‘Just trying to help you avoid having a pathologist cut you open at an early age.’

‘Well, there goes my chances of wanting a hamburger. Just get me a chicken sandwich. Take the orders and get Lillian to go with you. It’s on me. Or rather, Police Scotland.’

‘That’s very kind of you, sir.’ Evans took a notepad and, with Lillian’s help, took lunch orders.

The door opened and Muckle, Shug and Vern came in. Sparky got excited when he saw Stewart.

‘Good boy. You showed that wee arsehole the other day, didn’t you?’ Stewart told them about the lunch order, but they’d already eaten.

‘Fucking nash, and the drinks are on me tonight. Or Police Scotland, whatever way you want to look at it. But we need refreshments and you won’t have to put your hand in your –’

Evans was gone before Stewart finished his sentence.

‘Look at the wee bastard move when he wants to.’

Harry was talking to Miller and Eve Bell at a computer. He looked at Dunbar and Stewart. ‘Says here that Mike Morton’s sister was killed in a car crash six years ago. Not only that: her three kids died as well.’

‘Does that have any bearing on the case?’ Stewart asked.

‘It might be nothing, but the kids were twelve, ten and eight when they died. Same ages as the first victims when they were taken. Same age as little Abi who just went missing.’

‘But Ashley and Simone are older,’ Eve Bell said.

‘They’re the ages Sandra Robertson and Alice Brent were when they were found,’ Dunbar said.

Stewart walked away to Harry’s office and went inside.

The incident room door opened and Alex Maxwell waddled in.

‘Here she is, the lady of the moment,’ Jimmy Dunbar said.

‘Good to see you again, Alex.’

‘It was only last night you saw me, Robbie,’ she said.

‘You know what Jimmy and Harry are like, a pair of comedians out of a bad sitcom. You’re not here to keep them under control and they’ve lost the plot.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.’

‘Not that soon,’ Harry said, coming up to her and smiling.

‘It can’t come soon enough.’

Lillian walked over, smiling. ‘Hi, Alex. One day, when this case is finished, we should do lunch.’

‘That would be nice.’ Alex said it without any feeling.

‘Good. I look forward to it.’

Stewart came back after a few minutes. ‘Listen up, folks.’ He waited until he had everyone’s attention. ‘I just spoke to the procurator fiscal, outlining what we have on the investigation, and basically we have no grounds for a search warrant. Everything is speculation. If we find anything more concrete, then we can move forward.’

‘We should tell that to Abi’s parents,’ Dunbar said.

‘I know how you feel, Jimmy, but the decision is in the hands of the suits. We need to try that wee bit harder.’

‘I have an idea,’ Muckle McInsh said.

‘Spit it out then, son,’ Stewart said.

Muckle told him what he was thinking.

‘That sounds good. Let’s go with that.’

Eve Bell looked round from her computer. ‘Sir?’ she said to Harry.

He walked across to her desk and looked down at the computer screen. He looked up again after Eve pointed something out.

‘Jimmy, sir, you might want to have a look at this before we finalise anything.’

Thirty-Seven

As plans went, it wasn’t much of one, but it was all they had. And time was running out for a little girl and two older girls who had been abducted, all of whom would be wanting to go home.

Technically, no passengers were allowed on the bus when it was returning to the yard, but on this occasion it stopped at the first stop in Turnhouse Road.

‘How much is it for the dug to ride the bus, pal?’ Muckle asked Marshall Mann.

‘Sparky rides for free, my friend.’

‘He likes free.’ Muckle grinned as he took the dog on. Vern followed, and Wee Shug brought up the rear.

‘I’ve never seen a real-life ghost,’ Shug said as they sat down in the darkened single-decker bus. Mann drove along the road at normal speed.

‘And you’re not going to be seeing one now,’ said Muckle. ‘You do remember what the plan is, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘I forgot, this is past your bedtime. When the wee hand goes past twelve, you’re always tucked up.’

‘Actually, David and I sometimes play cards well into the wee hours.’

‘Really?’

‘Absolutely. Until one of us gets too blootered to carry on.’

‘Dark horses and all that, eh, Vern?’ Muckle said.

‘Aye. Still waters.’

They were all dressed in black and could hardly be seen with all the interior lights off.

‘Before we get to the yard, Marsh,’ Muckle to Mann, ‘let’s have a quick rundown. In case spunky-baws is there.’

‘Shoot.’

‘How long have you known us?’ Muckle asked.

‘A year. We met at a car show in Glasgow. We became friends and our girlfriends became friends too.’

‘My wife would kill me if she thought Vern was my girlfriend, but thank God this is only a story. And tonight we’re what?’

‘You came through to have dinner with me and Denise. You took Sparky for a walk while the women were in the house, and I saw you waiting for me and gave you a lift along.’

‘Great. That’s all we need. The rest is all a phone call away.’

They went over the hump of the railway bridge, Walter Scott Travel’s yard on the left, visible through the trees.

The bus slowed down to make the left into the Turnhouse Business Park. Mann slowed and they looked over at the old green house sitting forlornly in the dark. This place was poorly lit. The headlight beams cut through the darkness until they got to the yard, which was lit by one streetlight on the corner of the bus garage that bathed the yard in an orange glow.

‘It’s always the last door on the right, next to the office, so there’s no guesswork as to where the bus should