or fired, or something?’
Doreen nodded. ‘Would make sense. They’d have motive for making the rest of us look like idiots.’
Steel’s mouth fell open, eyes wide. She snapped her fingers. ‘That’s brilliant! Rennie, you’re a genius!’
The constable sat up straight. ‘Well, sometimes it’s—’
‘Why did no one think of that earlier? A whole squad of highly experienced officers, and no one thought to look at the forensics angle. You’re some sort of deductive god!’
Rennie’s shoulders sagged a bit. ‘What?’
‘We certainly haven’t had a team looking into that for the last week and a bit!’
‘Oh …’
Steel hit him again. ‘Twit.’
Logan helped himself to one of Rennie’s crisps. ‘What about the students in her psychology class?’
Steel sucked her teeth for a moment. ‘… McPherson’s looking into it, I think. Well, him or Evans. Don’t see a bunch of spotty layabouts managing to pull this off though, do you? They’d have to get up in the morning. Be too busy analysing each other’s bumholes.’
‘No, I’m going home.’ Logan stood. His shins bumped the low table, setting the graveyard of empty glasses clinking against each other. ‘Samantha’s waiting.’
The pub had got busier, the noise level rising with the alcohol consumption.
A group of middle-aged women, dressed in clothes far too young for them, were singing ‘Happy Birthday to You’ for about the sixth time, complete with shrieks of laughter. Rennie had been sent over to complain, and returned with a paper plate heaped with slices of chocolate cake and a cheek smeared with bright-red lipstick.
‘Aw, go on.’ The constable waggled his third pint of Tennent’s at Logan. ‘One more for the road!’
‘Thought you were driving?’
Rennie shook his head. ‘Emma says she’ll come get me.’ Grin. ‘Isn’t she great?’
Doreen tipped the last of the white wine into her glass, and sagged. ‘Everyone’s got someone to go home to, but me …’
DS Bob Marshall appeared through the throng, carrying a fresh pint of something dark. ‘You can come home with us, if you like, Doors? You me and Deborah can re-enact the Swinging Sixties.’ He gave her a big leering wink.
‘Urgh …’ Doreen shuddered. ‘I think I just threw up a little.’
‘Charming.’ He dragged a seat over. Paused, wrinkled his top lip and sniffed. ‘Why can I smell cheese?’
Logan pulled on his stained jacket. ‘Don’t worry, I’m leaving.’
Bob hump-shuffled his chair closer to the table. ‘Surprised I can smell anything at all: Stinky Tam was like … Actually, you don’t want to know. But Jesus, what a stench. Found him in the bushes at the side of the road, all bloated and leaky and bits falling off. Pretty sure the rats had been at him too.’
Doreen scowled. ‘You were right, we didn’t want to know.’
‘How can someone drop dead in the middle of the city, and no bastard notices, eh?’ A slurp of beer. ‘I’d’ve been here ages ago, but those GED bastards dragged me off to some poor sod who’d topped himself. General Enquiries Division my arse – Gormless Evil Dickheads more like.’ Another slurp. ‘Anyway, so come on then: who’s the bird with Steel?’
‘With the dark hair?’ Big Gary peered over Doreen’s head towards the bar.
Logan turned and did the same. DI Steel was just visible through the throng, her hand on the small of some woman’s back. Curly dark hair shot through with grey; jeans and a tight silk shirt; glasses perched on the top of her head; party hat set at a jaunty angle.
Steel leaned in and said something. The woman laughed, setting an impressive set of bosoms jiggling.
Logan edged his way out from the table and made for the door. Stopped. Then turned and waded through the crowd to the bar. He tapped Steel on the shoulder. ‘That’s me away.’
She turned, her eyes narrowing for a moment. ‘Good for you.’ Then back to whispering something in her new friend’s ear.
The woman threw her head back and gave another cleavage-wobbling laugh. ‘Oh, Honey, you are priceless.’ American accent.
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