Chapter 4

Inspector Pigshit marched purposefully across the car park. It was a bloody cold day. Still raining; still quite windy. He could see Jim sitting in the car, waiting. That was good. What wasn’t good, however, was the fact that Jim would be sitting there listening to Radio fucking Local, and at this time of the morning, that would mean the breakfast show guy and his fucking mystery voice competition, or worse, cheery adverts for double-glazing and car insurance done by some complete nobshiner of an actor who probably thought he was going to be the next Brad Pitt or George Clooney, but ended up doing voice-overs on radio ads for double-glazing and car insurance.

Pigshit opened the passenger-side door and got in.

“Turn that twat off.”

“Yes, boss.”

Jim switched the radio off. Pigshit put on his seat belt, rummaged around in the glove compartment and took out a CD. He put it in the CD player.

“Come on, you tart. Get going.”

Jim drove off.

“Who are we listening to today, boss?” asked Jim as the disc started to load.

“Duran Duran. Classic album called Seven and the Ragged Tiger,” said Pigshit.

The twangy, upbeat intro of the album’s opening track, The Reflex reverberated around the car. Pigshit turned up the bass.

“What’s he singing about? I can’t make out the lyrics.” asked Jim.

“Just listen,” advised Pigshit. “Proper song, this.”

“‘Why don’t you use it?’ Use what?”

Pigshit didn’t answer. As the unmarked police car sped along the wet, congested thoroughfares of Edinburgh city centre towards the crime scene, Pigshit took out one of his new notebooks. He was intrigued that the paper was 81.4 gsm. How odd that a figure for something most people couldn’t care less about was given to a precision of one decimal place. Like, 80 gsm would be a sufficient guide; 81 gsm sounds a bit strange, not being a nice round number like 80; while 81.4 gsm seems amazingly exact, perhaps unnecessarily so. Maybe it was the manufacturer’s way of getting one over on their competition: look, you bastards – we can do notepaper that’s 81.4 gsm. Yeah, point four, you wankers. Beat that.

“Did you get what you needed from the stationery cupboard, boss?”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t going to mention the paperclips. “Top quality notebooks and a few pens.”

“That’s good,” said Jim. “I think we’re going to need them.”


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