‘Unlike you, Fenton, I came here to celebrate Dad’s life and enjoy seeing his friends at the memorial, not blubber over who got what.’
‘Why don’t you just go out and mingle with the hangers-on and yes-men who worked for Dad then?’
‘I reckon you ought to watch your mouth, son,’ said Shona’s husband, Brian Gibbons.
Fenton looked at him. ‘You’re an outsider, Gibbons, and the sooner you realise the dynamic of this family, the sooner you’ll learn to shut your mouth and just sit and observe.’
‘What did you say?’ Brian felt his cheeks starting to go on fire, and he debated whether he should just lamp the bastard or have a word with him on the QT later on.
Shona’s hand on his arm decided for him.
‘Aren’t you a bit old for her?’ Fenton continued, the whisky fuelling his tongue.
‘Shut up, Fenton. Good God, it’s just gone nine o’clock and you’re already halfway to being drunk. Couldn’t you at least have pretended not to be an alcoholic until we all parted ways?’
‘Sociable, dear sister. It’s called being sociable. You should try it sometime. Unless you’re too embarrassed to be seen out and about with Grandpa there.’
Brian got up and looked at his brother-in-law. He was about to say something when Shona stood up.
‘He lets his tongue run away with him sometimes,’ she said. ‘Just ignore him.’
‘Ignore him?’ Brian said.
‘I think we should just go to our rooms and look at the properties in the morning. We have all weekend.’
‘Nah. I’m going now,’ Zachary said, just as the door opened. A big man with a snarling German Shepherd walked in, followed by a shorter man. Wee Shug.
‘Nobody’s going anywhere,’ Muckle said.
‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’ Zachary said, curling a lip.
‘I’m talking to you, dafty.’
‘Cheeky bastard. You’re fired.’
Muckle looked at his watch and smiled. ‘I’d watch your mouth if I were you. As of seven minutes ago, I am no longer in your employ. So if you want to get lippy, my boy here will be happy to rip your fucking nuts off.’
‘Aye, I finished at nine as well. Your man there will confirm that,’ Wee Shug said. He nodded towards the solicitor, who nodded in agreement.
‘So you can shove your job up your arse, pompous twat.’ Shug looked at Muckle and smiled as if they had rehearsed this routine before they came in.
Zachary looked at the dog, who was now snarling and growling, sensing his dad was needing back-up. He didn’t look too sure of himself now. ‘What the hell are you doing here if you no longer work for us?’
‘I just told you, nobody’s going anywhere. I’ve called the polis and they’re on their way up here. One of you lot is fuckin’ deid.’
Three
‘I’m thinking about getting a tattoo,’ Detective Sergeant Robbie Evans said as he and Detective Chief Inspector Jimmy Dunbar walked along the corridor to their boss’s office.
‘A tattoo? I thought you were feared of needles?’
‘Who said that?’
Dunbar made a face. ‘The last time we had a blood drive, you passed out.’
‘I told you before, I hadn’t had any breakfast that morning.’
‘Pish. There were plenty of lassies there that morning, all giggling and laughing. None of them wet their pants.’
‘I think I had low iron or something,’ Evans said.
‘Low self-esteem more like. But they’re having a blood drive next month. You going?’
‘Naw. I think I have something on that day.’
‘Maybe I should just punch you in the face. You could donate blood that way, but they’d have to hose it off the floor first.’
‘I’ll go then, now you’ve convinced me.’
‘You’re going to call in sick that day, aren’t you?’ Dunbar asked.
‘Faster than a bullet.’
‘Fanny.’
They went through a set of swing doors and headed towards Detective Superintendent Calvin Stewart’s office.
‘So what makes you think you can get a tattoo without skelping your face off the tattoo artist’s floor?’
‘It’s for my girlfriend. We just celebrated our second anniversary.’
Dunbar stopped and looked at his younger colleague. ‘You’ve not been seeing a lassie for two years.’
‘Months, Jimmy, months. This is the real thing. Hence the tat.’
‘Aw, away, man. You’ve hardly had a chance to find out what toothpaste she uses, never mind getting a tat.’
They started walking again. The sun was beating in through the windows on the long corridor.
‘What you having done?’ Dunbar asked. ‘Although I mentally kick myself up the arse for encouraging you. Let’s pretend it’s in the name of science.’
‘Her name. I’m getting her name tattooed on me.’
Dunbar closed his eyes for a second. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Bernadette.’
Dunbar burst out laughing. ‘What body part of yours do you think will accommodate that name?’
‘Well, not her name. I thought of just getting her initials.’
‘If you’re thinking of getting it on your tadger, that’s all you’ll be able to fit.’
‘Hilarious. How would you know anyway?’
‘Rumours isn’t just a Fleetwood Mac album, son. All those uniformed lassies you hang out with don’t seem too impressed.’
‘They’re just pals from work, Jimmy.’
‘Keep telling yourself that. I’ve heard some of those rumours for myself in the canteen.’
They got closer to Stewart’s office.
‘It’s a pity her name isn’t Mum, then you could kill two birds with one stone.’
‘That’s not even funny.’
‘So where is this tat going?’ Dunbar asked.
‘On my arm, of course. Bernadette Irene Graham.’
‘Big?’
‘What?’ Evans asked.
‘That’s her initials: B.I.G. If she’s notorious, then you’re laughing.’
‘Aw, Christ.’
‘Better stick to Mum. I mean, that’s the real love of your life. You still live with her, don’t you?’
‘Only till I find my own place. Bernie understands. She said she’s quite happy to wait.’
‘What kind of a place does she live in?’
‘I’ve never been round to her house,’ Evans admitted.
‘She could be married with kids for all you know.’
‘She’s not,’ Evans said, making a face.
‘How do you know?’
‘She told me.’
Dunbar laughed as they approached the office door. ‘What do those muppets say to you in an interview room? Honest, Robbie, I didn’t do it. And you just believe them.’
Evans looked past him at the door, as if the answer lay there. ‘Crap,’
