'That is so ...' She looked at Logan, but he had no intention of getting involved. 'I'm doing my best.' 'That's what worries me.' A friendly smile blossomed on Faulds' face as Nichol returned from the kitchen with two heaped plates of mince and tatties. She put one down in front of PC Munro, and the constable blanched. 'Ah ... actually, I'm a vegetarian, sorry ... Mind you, half the city seems to have gone veggie these days, don't they?' She pulled on a smile. 'But it looks lovely.' 'Oh ...' Elizabeth picked up the plate again. 'I've got some tins of tomato soup? I could--' 'You sit yourself down,' said Faulds,'PC Munro can help herself,' he shot her a look,'can't you?' Brittle smile. 'Of course, sir.' Logan balanced the plate on his knee, dug a fork into his mashed potato and swirled it through the mince, coating it with thick brown gravy. Then stared at it. 'It's ...' Elizabeth blushed. 'I know what you're thinking, but it's OK. I got the mince from Dundee. It's not ...' she flapped a hand at a copy of the Aberdeen Examiner sitting on her coffee table,'local.' Thank God for that. Logan took a bite. 'Mmm, this is excellent. Much better than the stuff we get in the canteen.' She beamed with pride as Logan got stuck in. 'This might sound daft ...' she said to Faulds,'but you seem familiar. Have we met before?' The Chief Constable gave a little self-deprecating shrug. 'I was in a TV show when I was younger.' 'Oh ... I see.' 'Now, Elizabeth,' said Faulds as she started eating,'I don't want to put you off your lunch, but I need to ask you some questions about last night, OK? The man who came to the Youngs' house, was he taller than me?' 'I ...' She pointed through to the kitchen, and the buzzing drone of a microwave oven. 'I told her everything I can remember.' Faulds scooted forwards. 'The human mind is a remarkable thing, Elizabeth, sometimes memories don't bubble up to the surface till days, even weeks later. I'm willing to bet that together, you and I can get something on the boil.' Flirty wink. He teased details out of her over the next ten to fifteen minutes, changing the subject from the Flesher to something innocuous - like the snow globe from Krakow - and back again. Constantly shifting. Getting a little more information every time. Logan gave a satisfied groan and pushed his empty plate away, glad he'd been the one lumbered with making Elizabeth Nichol feel useful. 'Will you look at the time?' said Faulds, peering theatrically at his watch. 'Going to have to fly or I'll be late.' He stood, motioning for Logan to do the same. 'Thank you for your hospitality, Elizabeth. If you think of anything else, you give me a call, OK?' He dug out a business card and scribbled something on the back, then handed it over. 'Doesn't matter how late or early it is.' Outside, in the car, Faulds allowed himself a smug smile as Logan drove them back towards town. 'You see, that's what being goal-oriented gets you ... What?'
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