NIALL SHIVERED AND pulled his coat tight against the evening chill. It had been a long day at Ravelston, handing out leaflets to passers-by, completing questionnaires and essentially hanging around.
Donnie had spent most of the day scowling and staring at his laptop in the car, or with his phone clamped to his ear.
‘He’s been a right grumpy bugger today,’ said John Lorimer who had walked across from the copse of trees surrounded by the scene tape.
‘Is this his default attitude?’ said Niall.
‘Well, he’s usually pretty dry, but a combination of the fact that this case looks like a sticker, together with his own hangover has taken his mood to new levels of irritability. Probably not helped by the fact that we all massively abused his trust and got blootered last night.’ Lorimer’s face was lined and drawn, his eyes red with fatigue, but he still managed a weak smile.
‘Well, there is that. This is bloody pointless, though. The only people here are a few golfers giving us daggers from the nineteenth hole. How long is he going to punish everyone for? It’s getting dark, it’s miserable and it’s fucking freezing.’
Lorimer yawned. ‘He can be cussed, but he’s also hungover, so I suspect he’ll break sooner or later. We’ll be getting into overtime territory. He still has a budget to manage.’
‘Feeling it?’
‘Aye, your bloody fault as well.’
‘Fancy a swift one after this?’
‘No chance. I’m headed to see a man about a dog, like.’
‘By man, you mean bird, right?’
‘No comment.’
‘Who was the wee rat of a gadgie outside the station with the camera?’ said Niall.
‘Shuggie Gibson. Freelance blogger, journo, and all-round pain in the arse. Making accusations all over the place.’
‘Like what?’
‘He thinks there’s someone on the team who knows more about the murders than they should.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Fuck knows. Look out, here comes Donnie.’ Lorimer nodded to the car park where Donnie was walking across the tarmac towards them, dark shadows lining his face.
‘Right, get everyone away. I’m not paying overtime to you two or your bunch of piss-heads. In the office at eight tomorrow.’ He turned on his heel and stomped off back towards his car. After he got a few strides away, he turned, his face still set in a grimace. ‘And if I find that even one of you has been out on the piss again tonight, you’re on bloody traffic duty by lunchtime. Do I make myself clear?’
‘As a bell, boss,’ said Lorimer, smiling as the DCI stormed off. They could see Marnie sitting in the passenger seat of his car, her eyes closed.
‘Sure I can’t tempt you with a pint?’ said Niall.
‘Not a chance, you bloody animal. Firstly, I feel like absolute shite. Secondly, I have an errand to run. Third, I’d rather not incur the wrath of our dear leader. This job isn’t perfect, but it’s a sight better than directing traffic in the middle of Edinburgh, particularly when it’s brass-monkeys Baltic. C’mon, let’s get these boys and girls away to their beds.’