Chapter 2.06
Lazy bees bumbled through the honeyed air, house martins swooped and twirled, while high overhead, a seagull circled like a huge fishy vulture.
Probably looking for something to poop on.
Well he could sod right off.
Roberta stretched out in her garden recliner, absorbing some sun for the first time in a month and a half.
Back in her woodland-creatures jammies, because they were far more comfortable than the outfit Susan had provided for the journey home.
Bare feet poking out. Toes wiggling in the warm, early-evening glow – skin the colour of frozen milk.
Fresh mug of tea on the patio table, glasses perched on the end of her nose, newly reunited phone in her sticky little fingers. Thumbs ticking away at the cracked screen as she texted Logan ‘Missing-In-Action’ McRae:
How come you sent the wee loon to get me?
You too busy being important, oh Great Emperor Laz McLimpalong?
SEND.
All the time they’d worked together, you’d think he would’ve made the effort.
She sipped her tea. Sighed. Stared up into the pale-blue sky.
That seagull had sodded off, but the house martins’ ballet swirled on.
Chitter-cheeping erupted in the cherry tree, and a bunch of weenie birds phrrrrrrrrrred out from the leafy branches as Mr Rumpole appeared on top of the wall at the far end of the garden.
Resplendent in his furry tabby coat of grey and black, tail like a thick plume of smoke.
He padded along the side wall on delicate white paws.
Maybe a little rattier than he used to be, but then Roberta wasn’t exactly a fresh-faced young thing herself.
‘So there you are!’
He hopped into the apple tree, clambering down it with all the grace of a breeze block. Then sat in the grass, a good six foot away, staring at her with narrowed yellow eyes.
‘I’m the one who should be sodding sulking. I was in that hospital for ages, and you never came to visit once!’
Mr Rumpole did a bit more staring, then had a wash – schlurping away at his furry tummy.
Typical man.
Ding-buzz.
LOGAN:
Been seconded to D Division, helping out on this Tayside Ripper thing.
Bit far to nip back from Dundee.
Happy to be home?
Hmph . . .
She poked out a reply:
Didn’t discharge me till after 4!
And there’s nobody here!
Welcome bloody back Roberta!!!
She frowned at the screen, with its furry X of misfiring pixels beneath the fractured glass. It wasn’t fair that she was stuck here, all on her own, signed-off on the sick like some sort of invalid, while Logan gallivanted around Dundee hunting serial killers.
What’s your Tayside Ripper like?
SEND.
A clunk-and-rumble sounded behind her, and there was Susan: hauling open the patio doors.
Soon as the gap was wide enough, a tootie-wee Jack Russell terrier bounded out into the back garden, barking his daft wee head off as he scampered across the patio.
Making straight for Roberta. Squirrelling around her naked feet, yipping and squeaking, tail going like an over-clocked metronome. Doing his happy dance.
So at least someone was pleased to see her.
‘Hello, Genghis Khat. Who’s Mummy’s little one-dog barbarian horde?’ Rummling his ears and setting his back leg twitching. ‘You are, yes you are.’
Susan bustled over. ‘What are you doing out here?’ Leaning in, to kiss Roberta on the head.
‘Sorry I’m late. Flipping partners’ meeting went on and on and on and on .
. . You know what Mortimer’s like when he gets a bee in his kilt.
’ She clapped her hands. ‘Genghis, leave that woman alone, you don’t know where she’s been.
’ Heading back inside, voice raised over the distance.
‘I’ve got a bottle of Veuve Clicquot in the fridge to celebrate, or there’s very nice chardonnay if you’re not feeling fizzy? ’
Ding-buzz.
LOGAN:
Not good.
He’s butchered 3 male prostitutes: slit them from mouth to anus & hacked out their insides.
Got search teams finding chunks of lung & liver all over the park.
Which sounded absolutely horrible. And interesting.
Lucky sod.
Susan emerged from the kitchen again, carrying two champagne flutes and a chilled dark-green bottle with a bright-yellow label.
‘The kids are both staying over with friends, so it’s just you and me tonight.
’ Saucy wink. ‘Thought we’d order in a nice big Chinese banquet, and sit around getting all noodly in our pants.
’ Waggling the bottle in a suggestive manner.
Then wrinkles pinched between her eyebrows.
‘Are you allowed to drink, what with the . . . you know . . . plate,’ silently mouthing the words: ‘IN YOUR SKULL?’
Because Susan was sweet, and lovely, and sexy, but a bit daft at times.
Roberta reached for her, grinning. ‘Let’s find out.’