Free The Darkest Goodbye (William Lorimer) by Alex Gray Page A

his young friend as she sank into a chair next to his desk.
    Before Kirsty could reply, the telephone beside Lorimer’s computer rang and he made a face mouthing
sorry
as he picked it up.
    It was only to be expected, Kirsty thought, feeling a little uncomfortable sitting here in the detective superintendent’s office. He was a very busy man. She really shouldn’t be taking up any of his time. And she certainly wouldn’t be mentioning her suspicions about DS Murdoch.
    Sleeping on it had helped to clarify Kirsty’s thoughts and the young officer had decided that she had been completely mistaken about seeing Murdoch stealing a watch. Perhaps he had simply been taking off his own watch and putting it in the scene of crime bag? And it was pure coincidence that the missing watch was of the same type that he wore. Nobody could be that blatant, surely? And yet… the look on Samantha Paton’s face was the thing that had caused her most disquiet, the girl’s expression changing into a nightmarish leer as Kirsty tossed and turned in a sleep punctured by fitful dreams.
    ‘Okay, I’ll get back to you.’ Lorimer finished his call and beamed at Kirsty.
    ‘Heard you were out for hours with DS Murdoch,’ he said. ‘Overtime on your first day. Well done.’
    ‘Yes, we were busy,’ Kirsty replied, trying to return his smile. ‘Last one was a scene of crime with a decomposing body.’ She wrinkled her nose before adding, ‘Dr Fergusson was there.’
    ‘The lad Bissett, I hear,’ Lorimer said, frowning. ‘Known dealer. Didn’t expect him to be in with the hard men. Still,’ he shrugged, ‘you never know what goes on behind scenes like these. Could be they were high on dope and turned nasty on one another. An old story, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Dr Fergusson was wonderful,’ Kirsty said wistfully. ‘Don’t know how she can be so calm and straightforward with things like that.’
    ‘Aye, our Rosie is something else, isn’t she?’ Lorimer chuckled. ‘Your dad and I have seen many a sight that would have turned anybody green, but not her.’ He paused and for a moment Kirsty imagined that she was about to be dismissed, allowing the detective super to get on with his job.
    ‘How do you find Murdoch?’ he asked quietly, fixing Kirsty with his blue gaze.
    Her eyes slid away from his scrutiny even as she knew that avoiding his stare was a dead giveaway.
    ‘Okay.’ She shrugged. ‘Early days yet. And we were really busy.’
    Why do you ask?
she wanted to demand, but the words remained unspoken.
     
    It was a different Len Murdoch that Kirsty saw when she entered the muster room. Gone was the chalk-striped suit that had been covered over with scene of crime whites the day before. Now the DS was far more casually attired in a pair of dark jeans and a T-shirt, a black leather jacket slung on the back of his chair. As she approached, Kirsty noticed signs of exhaustion on Murdoch’s face; dark circles under those cold grey eyes and the shadow of stubble made him seem a little less intimidating somehow. As she came closer, Kirsty wondered if this man had been up all night. What was his home life like? Did he have kids of his own? Somehow she doubted that. He’d been quick enough to leave the sound of a screaming baby in that upper cottage flat.
    ‘Wilson.’ He turned and nodded at her then indicated the sheaf of papers in his hand. ‘The Bissett murder. Need to prioritise that,’ he told her tiredly. ‘Fiscal wants the PM done today.’ He looked at his watch and pursed his lips. ‘Need to be down at the mortuary in an hour.’ He looked at her closely. ‘You okay with that?’
    Kirsty was taken aback. Murdoch had not asked once yesterday whether she was all right with anything. Had Lorimer had a quiet word, she wondered? Was that what his question had indicated? Or had her father been putting pressure on the detective sergeant? She hoped not. This was a job that she needed to do, standing on her own two feet, proving