Stuart MacBride: A Dark So Deadly

Callum stared at him. ‘The big black Mercedes.’

‘Only I got too stoned and then you got crushed in the balls and I was going to jump in, I really was, but you pepper sprayed him and he fell over and Willow kicked the crap out of him and I was laughing so hard I nearly peed myself.’

Lovely.

At least it explained the whole weird coincidence thing.

‘And then, when I heard about that Powel guy, I thought, “No way this scumbag’s getting away with shagging my brother’s woman. No way.” So I got Dugdale to pay him a visit too.’

Callum folded forward and covered his face with his hands. ‘Do you have any idea how much trouble that caused me?’

‘Yeah, sorry, Bruv. It’s the thought that counts, though. Right?’

No, it wasn’t.

The silence stretched.

Alastair sniffed. ‘You need to know: if you go sniffing around Leo McVey with your warrant card and your police mates, he’s going to lawyer up like that .’ Alastair snapped his fingers. ‘Might have to do it... a bit dirty, yeah? You ready for that?’

‘You’re not talking about fitting him up, are you?’

‘No, I’m talking about justice for all them people they killed. I’m talking about revenge for Mum and Dad. I’m talking about pliers and a blowtorch in an abandoned building. I’m talking a shallow grave out in Moncuir Wood where no one’s ever going to find him.’

‘You want to...’ Callum snuck a quick glance around: the nearest person was the receptionist, on her phone. Lowered his voice to a hard whisper: ‘You want to murder Leo McVey? No. Not happening. No chance.’

‘Hmmm.’ A nod. ‘OK, so we can’t kill him. Courtney said you probably wouldn’t go for that.’

‘You discussed murdering Leo McVey with your publicist ? Are you insane?’

‘Cos she came up with a better idea: Plan B. We get ourselves a film crew and we go after Leo McVey and that scumbag R.M. Travis on our very own reality TV show. Investigate the background, dig up other victims, all that stuff you cops do, yeah? Play our cards right, we get two seasons out of it.’

‘You are insane.’

‘Yeah, like a fox.’ Alastair stood. ‘Right, we got us a press conference to rock. You ready?’ He held out his hand.

Callum swallowed. Levered himself out of his seat.

Followed his brother out into an overcast afternoon and a barrage of flash photography.

Oh God...