aside. Lying sprawled on the floor was McGill. He was as smashed up as his store. His head was partly severed. The great gaping wound in his throat still wept blood. Behind, on the wall, a safe
door stood open. The safe was empty. An officer was dabbing at it for fingerprints.
‘So, Brodie, what extraordinary coincidence brings you and this pair wee man thegither?’
There was a crunch behind us. ‘Ah think Ah can answer that, sir.’ Inspector Duncan Todd joined us.
Sangster narrowed his eyes. ‘Now Ah’m really worried. What the hell brings you here, Todd?’
‘Ah jist heard about this at Albany Street, sir. Brodie and I had been talking about McGill the other day.’
‘Oh aye, and why would that be? What are you twa up to?’
I stepped forward. ‘I was following a lead, Sangster. Some of your Jewish parishioners were being burgled and you weren’t taking their calls. They asked me to take a look. Inspector
Todd suggested I had a word with McGill here. I came here on Monday. I found McGill had acquired a number of the missing items and that he’d bought them from a certain Paddy
Craven.’
Sangster’s face whitened. ‘Craven! Who got knifed the other day?’
‘Tuesday, sir. In a burglary that went wrong,’ said Duncan.
Sangster looked from one of us to the other, wondering where to start.
‘Jesus, Brodie, can you no’ lea’ the polis stuff to us?’
‘I’m a reporter. It’s what I do.’
‘So what’s your reporter’s theory about this then?’ He indicated the bleeding body of poor McGill.
‘McGill has a place upstairs. Somebody got in, forced him down here to open the safe, and cut his throat to shut him up?’
‘Who?’
‘Well, we know it wasn’t Paddy Craven getting his own back for McGill clyping on him,’ I said.
Duncan said, ‘Maybe Craven was working with someone else? And they took the hump?’
‘Or McGill knew something or someone else involved in the thieving?’ I suggested.
‘You huvnae written about McGill for the paper?’
‘I was about to. It’s now a job for the obituary boys.’
We tried a few other formulae, but without any evidence we might as well have blamed Jack the Ripper.
A little later, Duncan and I stepped outside, leaving Sangster to it. We began walking towards the city centre.
‘Anything you’re not telling me, Brodie?’
‘Only that we’ve grabbed a bit of string and found a tiger on the end of it.’
TEN
I t was a long day. I waited by the phone until past midnight. My worries piled up. A train derailment? A plane crash? The morning Royal Scot should
have got in by four thirty. Sam was to be whisked up to Hendon and flown to Hamburg on the evening military flight, which got in around nine o’clock our time.
By midnight my anxiety had turned to anger. I was furious at the world. Another rotten trick. Finding her, making me fall for her and then wresting her from me. Laughing at our mortal antics.
Slapstick clowns on life’s stage. I paced up and down like a madman, throwing back the Johnnie Walker and smoking till my throat was raw. I forced myself to pick up a book. I had no idea what
I was reading.
The phone jolted me from my doze at one thirty. I leaped out of the armchair, knocking my book to the floor. I stumbled downstairs and grabbed the phone.
‘Sam?’
‘Thank you, caller. Please go ahead.’ The cold, international operator’s voice was replaced by hers. Distant and tinny.
‘Douglas? Can you hear me? It’s me. Sorry. Sorry. Just got here. Gales over the North Sea. I feel like I’ve been on one of those big dippers at the shows.’
For a moment I couldn’t speak. ‘I was that worried. Are you OK?’
‘Wabbit. But I’m in my hotel. Iain met me and we’re getting down to it tomorrow. The real thing starts next week.’
We talked some more, but I heard the weariness in her voice and let her go. I didn’t mention McGill’s death. Two murders in a week didn’t make for a social call.
Three weeks two
door stood open. The safe was empty. An officer was dabbing at it for fingerprints.
‘So, Brodie, what extraordinary coincidence brings you and this pair wee man thegither?’
There was a crunch behind us. ‘Ah think Ah can answer that, sir.’ Inspector Duncan Todd joined us.
Sangster narrowed his eyes. ‘Now Ah’m really worried. What the hell brings you here, Todd?’
‘Ah jist heard about this at Albany Street, sir. Brodie and I had been talking about McGill the other day.’
‘Oh aye, and why would that be? What are you twa up to?’
I stepped forward. ‘I was following a lead, Sangster. Some of your Jewish parishioners were being burgled and you weren’t taking their calls. They asked me to take a look. Inspector
Todd suggested I had a word with McGill here. I came here on Monday. I found McGill had acquired a number of the missing items and that he’d bought them from a certain Paddy
Craven.’
Sangster’s face whitened. ‘Craven! Who got knifed the other day?’
‘Tuesday, sir. In a burglary that went wrong,’ said Duncan.
Sangster looked from one of us to the other, wondering where to start.
‘Jesus, Brodie, can you no’ lea’ the polis stuff to us?’
‘I’m a reporter. It’s what I do.’
‘So what’s your reporter’s theory about this then?’ He indicated the bleeding body of poor McGill.
‘McGill has a place upstairs. Somebody got in, forced him down here to open the safe, and cut his throat to shut him up?’
‘Who?’
‘Well, we know it wasn’t Paddy Craven getting his own back for McGill clyping on him,’ I said.
Duncan said, ‘Maybe Craven was working with someone else? And they took the hump?’
‘Or McGill knew something or someone else involved in the thieving?’ I suggested.
‘You huvnae written about McGill for the paper?’
‘I was about to. It’s now a job for the obituary boys.’
We tried a few other formulae, but without any evidence we might as well have blamed Jack the Ripper.
A little later, Duncan and I stepped outside, leaving Sangster to it. We began walking towards the city centre.
‘Anything you’re not telling me, Brodie?’
‘Only that we’ve grabbed a bit of string and found a tiger on the end of it.’
TEN
I t was a long day. I waited by the phone until past midnight. My worries piled up. A train derailment? A plane crash? The morning Royal Scot should
have got in by four thirty. Sam was to be whisked up to Hendon and flown to Hamburg on the evening military flight, which got in around nine o’clock our time.
By midnight my anxiety had turned to anger. I was furious at the world. Another rotten trick. Finding her, making me fall for her and then wresting her from me. Laughing at our mortal antics.
Slapstick clowns on life’s stage. I paced up and down like a madman, throwing back the Johnnie Walker and smoking till my throat was raw. I forced myself to pick up a book. I had no idea what
I was reading.
The phone jolted me from my doze at one thirty. I leaped out of the armchair, knocking my book to the floor. I stumbled downstairs and grabbed the phone.
‘Sam?’
‘Thank you, caller. Please go ahead.’ The cold, international operator’s voice was replaced by hers. Distant and tinny.
‘Douglas? Can you hear me? It’s me. Sorry. Sorry. Just got here. Gales over the North Sea. I feel like I’ve been on one of those big dippers at the shows.’
For a moment I couldn’t speak. ‘I was that worried. Are you OK?’
‘Wabbit. But I’m in my hotel. Iain met me and we’re getting down to it tomorrow. The real thing starts next week.’
We talked some more, but I heard the weariness in her voice and let her go. I didn’t mention McGill’s death. Two murders in a week didn’t make for a social call.
Three weeks two
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