been removed and put back onto the mundane day-to-day stuff of the Cambuslang/Rutherglen area.
Taylor's in his office so I wander through. Smoked enough fags during the afternoon not to be feeling deprived. Could use a coffee. Maybe some alcohol. Alcohol later, coffee first. Would have stopped off at the Costa on the way in, but thought I should report back. Had hoped that Taylor wouldn't be here yet.
Stand in the doorway. 'How'd you do?' I ask.
He's got one of the maps spread out in front of him, which he's been marking off.
'Looked at around twenty spots. Some of them are definitely out, some 50/50… found two, maybe three that would be good places for our man, nests in place, definite signs of crow activity. How about you?'
'You didn't catch him in the act then?'
'Sadly it's not an episode of Scooby Doo, Sergeant.'
I grunt and walk round behind him to look over his shoulder at the map.
'You make notes?' he asks.
'Yes.'
Annoyed at the suggestion that I might not have done, although generally my paperwork is so shit that I oughtn't to be.
'Right, grab a seat and mark them off.'
'Yes, boss.'
Pull up a seat across the desk from him, turn the map around and start to mark it up. He watches me for a few seconds and then turns back to the computer. Quick glance to see what he's looking at. Twitter. Ah yes, the modern way. That's how we'll find out.
For the moment Plague of Crows isn't trending, having been usurped by four tags related to Justin Beiber, two about John Terry and #replacemovietitleswithcock. Society knows what's important, and here's us worrying about this shit. But he's right to look. While we're running headlong down our tunnel-vision wild goose chase, and the boys from Edinburgh are throwing money and resources at every aspect of the investigation, you can guarantee that the next piece of information will first come to the attention of the police via social networking.
He's searching Plague of Crows, tracking the most recent stuff. A quick glance doesn't reveal anything new.
'I'm going to leave you to speak to DI Gostkowski,' he says.
'Sure.'
'We don't want any of that new mob asking questions. If they see you talking to her, it's just going to look like you're trying to get a shag. They might start questioning it if they think I'm sniffing around.'
'You think there are people on the Edinburgh police force who assume that I spend my entire life trying to get laid?'
'Sergeant, there are police officers in Bandar Seri Begawan who think you spend your entire life trying to get laid.'
Funny. Nice thought, though.
'So, do we have some sort of code?' I ask. 'Is she going to leave a flowerpot on the balcony?'
He turns away from the computer and looks at me like I'm some sort of ridiculous police freak with no clue. I get that look from him a lot, although it is at least contradicted by the fact that he wanted me here in the first place.
'You're meeting her in the Costa down the road at 7.'
'Oh. Right.'
'You'll be talking about work,' he says, giving me the look.
'She's way too serious for me,' I say.
'Bollocks,' he mutters, shaking his head and looking back at the monitor. 'Too serious… You'd have sex with a four-thousand-page essay on 17th century Scottish agriculture if it'd let you.'
*
I've got an Americano. I asked for space for extra milk and still had to give it back to them so they could tip some of it out to allow space for extra milk. It's like their mission statement is
'What d'you do all day?' she asks.
'You're on our side, right?'
She smiles.
'Despite what all you strapping men think, it's not a competition. Nevertheless, I've been instructed by the Superintendent only to pass back the information that he authorises me to. So, your secrets are safe with me.'
'We went looking for possible woods that the killer might use the next time.'
She pauses, the cup at her lips, then sets it back down without taking anything from it.
'You looked for trees? In Scotland?'
'Yes.'
'Did you find any?'
'Funny.'
'Seriously? There have to be a million places that this guy could use…'
'We narrowed it down to around nine hundred or so… Well, you know, in the vicinity. And then, you know, some of them are going to have nests and very obvious crow communities, and those are the ones that we can concentrate on. Shouldn't be so many in the end.'
It seemed pretty lame as we went about our business this afternoon. Now, explaining it to another polis, it sounds flat out stupid, despite my best attempts at justification.
She takes her next sip, bit of a longer drink this time as it's cooled down enough. Finally makes some kind of 'well, I suppose you have to do something' expression with her face.
'What are the Bat-team up to?' I ask to get us off the subject. Don't want to loiter over the possibility that two senior detectives spent their day chasing their own bollocks.
'I don't suppose what they did amounted to much more. Spent the day familiarising themselves with the investigation. I can't say that they had anything new to add at this stage. Seem like a sharp enough bunch.'
'Full of themselves or aware that they're stepping on toes?'
'Oh…' she begins, and then thinks about it. At least, she's thinking about how to put it, rather than thinking about whether or not these people might actually be in danger of disappearing up the arsehole of their own self- importance.
'They're confident,' she says eventually.
'Good. Confidence is important.'
She smiles a little at that. We glance at each other, then let our eyes drift around the café. These places are just permanently busy nowadays. Everybody's drinking coffee. Even the people who are going to go and get pissed later, still have a coffee first.
Maybe I'm just making that shit up. What do I know?
'So, have you got anything for us?' I ask.
Quick shake of the head, and she looks slightly abashed. This will, presumably, become a nightly thing, and it's going to get a little awkward if she has nothing to say every day.
'Like I said, they were getting their feet under the desk. They spent the day asking questions. Tomorrow, I suppose, we'll find out if they've got anything new to bring to the table.'
We hold each other's eyes for a moment, then she looks at her watch.
'Gotta go,' she says and takes a last quick sip of tea. Her phone has been sitting unlooked at on the table, and she lifts it and puts it in her pocket as she stands. 'Same time tomorrow, Sergeant?'
'Sure,' I say, which doesn't sound like much, but is better than all the innuendo that immediately came to mind.
'Right. I'll be in touch if there's anything I think you should know before then,' she says, and then she's off, back out the door and onto the street, leaving me alone with a half-drunk Americano with a little too much milk.
I watch her across the street. Can't quite see the entrance to the station from where I'm sitting, but keep following her until she's out of sight. Then I turn back to my coffee and take a long drink.
