The hand was removed from Bruno’s shoulder. Frankie took a step back and then, to the old man’s surprise, he clapped.

“Bravo, Bruno. Fucking bravo. That was some speech. Was that no’ some fucking speech?”

“That was some speech, Uncle Frankie.”

“That was some fucking speech! Proper moving stuff. Powerful. And, it was high time you stood up and got that off your chest, Bruno. High fucking time!”

He plucked a Creme Egg from the almost empty box on the counter. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said.

Over by the door, Paco turned the sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed.’ Frankie unwrapped the egg, the crinkling of the foil deafeningly loud in the silence of the shop. He bit the top off the chocolate, licked the trailing fondant from his lips, then raised the Creme Egg as if proposing a toast.

“Budge,” he said. He finished chewing, then swallowed. “Fuck this prick up.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Is it just me, or is there a weird smell in your car, boss?” asked Tyler, as Logan clipped on his seatbelt and started the engine.

“Both,” the DCI said, the word ejected alongside an indignant grunt.

Tyler turned to him, his nostrils narrowing like his nose was putting itself into shutdown. “How d’you mean?”

“There’s a weird smell that you bloody well caused,” Logan said, punching the gearstick into reverse and pulling away from the station. He saw the blank look on the DC’s face. “When you threw up.”

“When did I throw up?”

“After your crash,” Logan said.

They hung a left at the roundabout, and the Beamer accelerated smoothly away. Tyler watched the lights of Fort William Police Station go sliding past. For a moment, he thought he saw Sinead standing at one of the windows, but they were already too far away for him to say for sure.

“Oh. Right. Did I throw up? I don’t remember. Shite. Sorry, boss. Think I was a bit dazed at the time,” Tyler said.

“Aye, you can say that again,” Logan agreed. “On the drive to the hospital you kept calling me Brian.”

“Brian?” Tyler asked. His brow creased as he flipped through some mental Rolodex. “I don’t even know anyone called Brian.” He moved around in his seat, trying to get himself comfortable for the long journey ahead. “Brian May, I suppose, but I doubt I was getting you mixed up with him.”

They had made the turn onto the southbound A82 before Tyler finally found a good position. It was only then that the previous few moments of conversation properly hit him.

“Wait, so that smell is sick?” he asked, the colour draining from his face like a tap had been turned on. “That’s old puke I’m smelling?”

“No! Jesus, what do you think I did, just leave it?” Logan retorted. “What sort of clarty bastard do you take me for?”