Back Where the Bodies are Buried
Chapters (49)
  1. Also by Christopher Brookmyre
  2. COPYRIGHT
  3. Contents
  4. Dedication
  5. Acknowledgements
  6. The Loneliness and the Scream
  7. Jasmine Screws Up
  8. Whodunit
  9. The Presence of Absence
  10. Machinery
  11. The Long View
  12. A Whole Child Ago
  13. Motives
  14. Baby Steps and Dainty Feet
  15. Higher Powers
  16. Asylum
  17. This Dark Place
  18. View from a Dead End
  19. The Mercy of the Court
  20. Run to Ground
  21. Explosive Information
  22. The Abandoned
  23. Played
  24. Witness
  25. Identity
  26. Fire-Damaged
  27. Lost in the Swamp
  28. Darken the Memory
  29. Naming the Sins
  30. Stolen Glances
  31. Beyond the Visible Spectrum
  32. The Biggest Gang in Glasgow
  33. Infrared and Sonic Boom
  34. That Golden Rule
  35. Quiet Little Voices
  36. Clarity
  37. Listening to Fear
  38. Locust in Flight
  39. Phantoms
  40. Secret Trades
  41. Names on a Page
  42. Two Porcupines Making Love
  43. Sins of the Father
  44. Old School
  45. A One-Way Trip to the Campsies
  46. Family (i)
  47. Family (ii)
  48. Forgiveness
  49. Four Words

In an age of electronic policing, there was also much to be said for meeting colleagues from other squads and other divisions face to face whenever the opportunity presented itself. Loath as the likes of Cairns would be to call it that, it was a valuable exercise in networking. It meant you didn’t just pass on little discrete quanta of information pertaining only to specific inquiries, like worker ants meeting in a line. And perhaps most importantly, it was more conducive to a little quid pro quo. When Cairns had goodies to hand over, he liked to sound you out for what might be available in return.

‘Glad to see you’re feeling better,’ Catherine told him, having ordered up a couple of coffees. ‘When I heard Bob Cairns had called in sick, I thought it was one of the signs of the end of days.’

Cairns looked quizzical for a moment, then realised what she was on about.

‘Naw, I’m fine. It wasnae a health thing: more a kind of family emergency. My youngest had a problem with her digs. She’s at uni in Preston, starting final year. She stayed on over the summer doing a research project. Anyway, the wee place she’s in is right by the river, which is lovely until the fuckin’ thing bursts its banks. Ground floor is under two feet of water noo.’

He took a mouthful of tea. Catherine noticed him eyeing his phone as he did so.

‘You expecting a call?’

He rolled his eyes as if to say ‘and how’. He wasn’t for giving anything away yet, though.

‘Heard you had the bold Abercorn trying to peek at your homework over the Jai McDiarmid murder,’ he said. ‘Have you worked out his angle?’

‘I’m wary of even thinking so,’ she replied. ‘It’s often when you reckon you’ve worked out Abercorn’s angle that he’s got you exactly where he wants you.’

It was a calculatedly neutral reply. Catherine wasn’t giving away to anybody that she suspected Abercorn was protecting Frankie Callahan, and certainly not to a stalwart of the Drug Squad. Never mind Abercorn’s angle, she wondered: what’s yours, Bob, and what are you hoping I’ll toss back in return for this morning’s tip?