They were now on track five, Of Crime and Passion, for the second time. Inspector Pigshit had had enough of being stuck in traffic in the rain.
“I’ve had enough,” he said.
“Doesn’t look like there’s much we can do,” said Sergeant Morrison.
“I’ll be the judge of that. Stick on the sirens and the flashing blue lights, and let’s get this fucker onto the pavement.”
“The pavement. We’re on a murder investigation. We can’t afford to spend all sodding day sitting here watching the windscreen wipers.”
“It’s a busy street.”
“This is Edinburgh! It’s a capital city, home to about three million people, all of them potential criminals! Of course it’s a busy street! Fucking hell, Morrison, you’re not the village bobby. If you want to be Hamish Macbeth, fine – I’ll get you a transfer to some daft little two-horse village up in the Highlands, but right now you’re working for me, so unless you want to spend the rest of your career watching shinty and looking for missing sheep, I advise you to get moving.”
“All right, boss.”
Morrison put on the sirens and the flashing blue lights and carefully steered the car onto the wet pavement.
“What’s the speed limit for driving on pavements, boss?”
Morrison hit the accelerator, scattering pedestrians and causing those annoying people who stand around handing out flyers to take cover in shop doorways.
“We should do this more often.”