The Bloodsmith stretched out in the back seat. ‘I know this might sound controversial, but I rather miss the old Bedford Rascal, with its creaky gears and rattling suspension and humping sausages down the sides.’
‘They’re not humping, they’re dancing!’
‘Oh, Kiddo, everyone knows they’re humping. Shagging. Making the sausage with two backs. Isn’t that right, Charlie?’
He pulled on his seatbelt. ‘I just think having something real for Lucy to focus a bit of love and affection on would be good for her. She can spend as much time as she likes with you and me, but we’re not real. It’s not the same.’
Lucy reversed out of the drive. ‘Are you going to bang on about this all the way there?’
‘Probably. You should give in now: it’ll save you a lot of bother.’
‘Don’t listen to him, Kiddo. Stand firm!’ The Bloodsmith produced one of his stinky cigars, lighting up and filling the car with imaginary smoke.
Charlie scowled. ‘You’re not smoking that filthy thing in here.’
‘Yes I am.’
‘Would you two please just—’ Her phone launched into its blandest ringtone and she pulled it out, pinning the thing between her shoulder and her ear as she accelerated. Not exactly legal. ‘DI McVeigh.’
‘Lucy? It’s Findlay.’
‘Boss. I’m leaving now; should be with you in a couple of hours, roadworks permitting.’
‘Excellent; the team’s buzzing to meet you. We’ve got a rather interesting case just come in, on Mull. Have you heard of the Rammach Brotherhood? If not, I won’t spoil the surprise, but let’s just say they won’t be getting a Michelin star anytime soon. Not unless they start awarding those for cannibalism.’
The Bloodsmith rubbed his hands. ‘Yummy.’
‘Doesn’t sound like one of ours, Boss, so I’m assuming...?’
‘A certain highly respected technology tycoon and peer of the realm’s daughter joined the Brotherhood six weeks ago and hasn’t been heard from since.’
That was more like it.
‘I’ll be there soon as I can.’
‘And I’ve been giving a little thought to your dilemma, vis-à-vis Sarah Black and her less-than-delightful family. Now that you’re officially part of the St Nick’s family, I think I have a few ideas that might tickle your fancy.’
A smile tugged at Lucy’s cheeks. ‘Thank you, Boss.’
‘Welcome on board, Professor McVeigh.’ Then ACC Cormac-Fordyce hung up.
Charlie held up a hand. ‘So, back to my perfectly reasonable suggestion that—’
‘Put the radio on, Kiddo, let’s drown the bugger out.’
‘I’m not saying she should get married and have kids, I’m saying we should get a dog. We could call it “Lucyfer”. Ooh, or how about “Mr Bitey”?’
‘We are not having a dog called “Mr Bitey”. Tell him, Lucy: it’s just asking for trouble.’
‘Well, I don’t hear you coming up with any better suggestions.’
‘Here we go!’
Lucy tightened her grip on the steering wheel. ‘If you two don’t play nice, right now, I’ll go to my new police shrink, get them to prescribe a whole shedload of antipsychotics, and then where will you be?’
Silence.
The Bloodsmith cleared his throat. ‘Sorry, Lucy.’
‘Yes, sorry, Lucy.’ Charlie shifted in the passenger seat. ‘But he started it.’
Oh, for God’s sake.
Lucy clicked on the radio and turned it right up.
It was going to be a long, long day...