down, but gets himself stabbed about twenty times in the stomach doing it. Robertson gets thirty to life; McRae gets a year in hospital and promoted to DS. [clears throat and spits into wastepaper basket] OK, who's next? Beattie? Useless, fat, beardy arsehole. Next!
11
The Press Liaison Officer slammed the incident room door. 'Bastards!' Logan looked up from a pile of search reports and watched her march up to DI Insch and wave a newspaper in his face. 'Have you seen the front page? Have you? They're eating us alive out there!' Which was a pretty unfortunate choice of words. This morning's Aberdeen Examiner had,'CANNIBAL HORROR FOR HUNDREDS OF NORTH EAST RESIDENTS!' plastered all over the front page. Colin Miller strikes again. Insch snatched the paper and skimmed the article, face rapidly darkening to a furious scarlet. 'MCRAE! My office: NOW!' He stormed out, nearly flattening a constable carrying a big stack of actions from the Home Office Large Major Enquiry System. Logan slumped back in his seat, stared at the ceiling, and swore. Then followed in the inspector's wake. Insch's office wasn't its usual tidy self: the floor was littered with screwed-up bits of paper and sweetie wrappers. The inspector's bin lay on its side against the wall, with a dirty big dent in it. He didn't even wait for Logan to close the door. 'WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THIS?' 'I thought you knew! It's not--' 'How did your bloody Weegie friend know people have been eating ...' he narrowed his angry, piggy, eyes. 'Did you--' 'I never said a word! He--' 'That two-faced cow!' The inspector's face got even uglier. He stabbed a button on his phone and demanded to be put through to the mortuary. It wasn't long before Isobel's voice crackled out of the speakerphone:'This had better be important! Do you have any idea--' 'WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?' 'What? I--' 'Did you really think I wouldn't find out?' Isobel's voice dropped about twenty degrees.'If you've got something to say to me Inspector, you'd better say it, because I will not have you shouting down the phone at me like some sort of petulant child, do you understand?' 'Your boyfriend. The front page of the Examiner. I expected you to act like a professional--' A loud brrrrrrrrrrrrrr came from the speaker: she'd hung up on him. Insch stabbed the off button hard enough to make the whole phone creak. 'You ...' He screwed up his face, grimaced, held two fingers to the side of his throat and tried to breathe slowly. In and out. In and out.
