Free Murder on the Second Tee by Ian Simpson Page A

Andrews for nearly thirty years. He knows all the problem families, keeps his ear close to the ground. You should ask him tomorrow if he’s heard anything interesting and I bet his attitude will improve.’
    ‘I doubt it. His resentment of me seeps out of his pores.’
    ‘Darling, it was once said of Maggie Thatcher that she was unpopular in Scotland because she was bossy, English and a woman. She’d have got off with being any two of these, but all three and she was finished up here.’ He grinned.
    She didn’t find it funny. ‘So I mustn’t be bossy in case I upset the Scots?’ Her voice caught.
    ‘It’s your job to give orders, but if you make men like McKellar think that you rate them, even if you don’t, they’re far more likely to come on-side. And if they don’t, they will make themselves seem bigoted.’
    ‘I’ll try. But I can tell he’s the type to bend the rules to get a result and justify himself by saying he’s old-fashioned. Not as bad as Inspector No, of course.’
    ‘At least you don’t have him to deal with any more. How did you find MacGregor?’
    ‘At first I didn’t like him. He’s chauvinist and patronising. But he was really helpful on the phone. Prepared to stick his neck out.’
    ‘He can be brilliant in court.’ He chuckled. ‘There was a murder case in which the deceased had been stabbed by one man then run over by another. Counsel for the man with the knife suggested MacGregor was wrong to say that the stab wound had been fatal. There was a moment’s silence. Then MacGregor picked up the knife, which was on the shelf in front of the witness box, and pointed it at the lawyer. “Mr Laverty, if I were to come across the court and stab you in the identical way, within five seconds you would be very, very dead.” It’s not often Craig Laverty’s stuck for words but his mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. And his client went down for murder.’
    ‘Well let’s hope we get someone in court for this,’ she said grimly. Then the phone rang. ‘It’s a bit late,’ she muttered as she reached for it.
    ‘Jamieson here.’ It was the divisional commander’s clipped voice. ‘That’s Inspector Fortune, I take it? I’ve had Lord Saddlefell bending my ear this evening so we’d better have a word. Nine am tomorrow. My office.’
    Her heart sank. ‘Glenrothes?’ she asked, knowing she sounded stupid.
    ‘That’s where my office is, Divisional Headquarters. Goodnight, Inspector.’
    ‘And I thought today was bad. I bet he thinks I’ve been drinking,’ Flick said, then burst into tears.
    * * *
    ‘Ma brains are in ma bum. It wis Hearts that put Celtic ootae the Cup.’
    Baggo sipped his second pint of IPA beer as Sharon neared the end of her third vodka and coke. Half an hour earlier he had started the conversation on football, without reckoning on her encyclopedic knowledge of the history of East Fife FC, a team he had been only vaguely aware of. She had moved on to bigger and better teams, and required to be diverted.
    ‘Do you enjoy working in the Old Course?’ he asked as she drained the glass.
    ‘It’s alright.’
    ‘Do you get to do the rooms on the first floor facing the Old?’
    ‘Aye.’
    ‘The views must be wonderful.’
    ‘Aye.’
    ‘Did you do the room for the guy who was murdered?’
    ‘Aye.’
    ‘What are these bankers like?’
    ‘Like anyone else, I suppose. No’ perfect, ken whit I mean?’
    ‘No. How?’
    ‘Well there are these two poofs who share a bed, and they leave their mark, like.’
    ‘Yes. Tell me more.’
    Sharon banged the table as she set her glass down. ‘Time for another?’
    ‘Same again?’ he hoped he was not wasting time and money.
    ‘And that Mrs Parsley,’ she whispered when he returned, ‘she’s no’ the devoted wife she’s made oot tae be.’
    ‘Really?’ He tried to sound casual.
    ‘There’s a man called Forbes along the passage from her. He’s supposed to be on his own, but this morning I found marks,