Free The Unburied Dead by Douglas Lindsay

time.
    'Shagging, eh?' he says, and it pains him to say the word. Can see him thinking of Debbie as he opens his mouth.
    'Why don't you leave her?' I say, with accompanying instant regret. I don't have the time to get into this discussion at the moment, certainly don't have the inclination. Hold up my hand. 'Sorry, that was out of order. None of my business. Look, I've got to go. Will I see you tomorrow?'
    Rubs his hand across his forehead. Tired, doesn't care, too much on his mind, even if it is only the one thing.
    'Fuck knows, Sergeant. Don't know what I'm doing tomorrow. Don't know what she's doing tomorrow.' Looks pathetically up at me and shrugs. Poor bastard.
    I nod, try an expression of compassion but don't know if it's anywhere near the mark. Shrug.
    'Merry Christmas, Sir,' I say, and turn away.
    'Ho fucking ho,' he says to my back.
    Back to the desk. Herrod isn't in the immediate vicinity, which is good, because I can't be bothered with any smart arse remarks about bunking off early. Last look at all the paper. Hundreds of things to do but nothing which can't wait until tomorrow.
    Jacket on, house keys, car keys, phone, head for the door. Good nights to the few polis still lingering about the office, don't bother trying to kiss any of the women. Pass PC Bathurst on the way out. Smile, wish her a merry Christmas, she sort of winces back at me. Fine. Along the corridor to the top of the stairs. Look out the window to the dark of night. You can see the cold. Hear footsteps behind me and I turn, hoping it's not going to be work. Greeted by Bathurst, all rosy red lips and worried expression.
    'Can I talk to you, Sergeant?' she says. Voice low.
    'Sure. What do you want to talk about?' I say. She smells good up close, looks good, all that other stuff.
    She glances over her shoulder, bites her lower lip. Can I help you with that?
    'Not here. Can I talk to you later? After work, maybe. Are you doing anything tonight?'
    Tonight? Why tonight? My night is packed solid. The one night of the last three years when I don't have time for PC Bathurst. Still, she does look as if she really wants to talk, which isn't what I'd be suggesting.
    Shake the head and she looks disappointed.
    'Sorry, Evelyn, tonight's the wrong night to ask.'
    She bites the lip again, looks over her shoulder. I run through the course of the evening, wondering where I can make time. I could cut the kids short, I suppose, but hardly even consider being late for Miller. About to open my mouth but manage to stop myself. Bugger it, I see little enough of them as it is.
    'Really, I can't. Got two things on tonight. Christmas presents for the kids.' And I'm shagging the boss. At least, I presume I'm shagging the boss. Maybe she's just asking me out there because she wants to interview me for some Grand Lodge of the Knights Templar. Cover myself in tar and get to find out who's got the Holy Grail.
    She smiles nervously and nods.
    'All right. Maybe some other time,' she says.
    'How about tomorrow?' I suggest. 'We could do lunch. No, not lunch, expect I'll be too busy. After work?'
    'Aye,' she says after a hesitation. 'It's not urgent, I just need to talk to someone, that's all.'
    'You don't have any plans for the evening? No parents or fifteen year-old strapping boyfriends to see?'
    'Parents are in Inverness. I'm going up for New Year. I wasn't really planning to do anything other than watch Mission Impossible 3 again.'
    'All right, I think I can save you from that.'
    We stare at each other for a minute. Crosses my mind that she really is young enough to be my daughter, and almost feel paternal. Reminds me of my real daughter.
    'Look, sorry, I've got to go.'
    She smiles. 'I'll see you tomorrow. And I'm sorry about the other night. I was rude.'
    Don't know what to say to that.
    'Right. See you,' I say, and turn out the door, the smell of her still with me. Along with that bloody nuisance, curiosity.

12

    Standing on the doorstep of Miller's house. The doorbell has just