Maggie? I hope you’re not using what you get out of me to titillate those teachers of yours

Soften him up first. Maggie smiled up at Brian. “How’s your investigation going?” He covered his face with his hands. “Don’t ask.” “That bad?” “Between you and me,” he muttered through splayed fingers, “it’s got more holes than a colander.”

“But, your suspects… that tutor you mentioned when we spoke on the phone?”

“Out of the frame.” Brian regretted now that he’d shared intel with Maggie.

“How about the young guy, the teenager?” “Oh,” he clasped a hand to his forehead. “Nothing’s come of it, as far as I know.” He wasn’t going to give anything else away.

Thank God! “What about Alec Gourlay? Hasn’t he cracked it?”

“Not yet. But why do you keep on about the St Machar investigation, Maggie? I hope you’re not using what you get out of me to titillate those teachers of yours. Because what I tell you in confidence…”

Mollify him. Maggie leaned forward. “I could tell you things.”

“Such as?”

“There are underage kids dealing drugs in the high rises.”

“And how did you come by this nugget of intelligence?”

“I saw them with my own eyes.”

“This was happening out in the open, then?” “No,” Maggie corrected. “In the high rises, I just told you.”

“So you were inside the high rises…”

“No,” she was becoming irritated now. “The kids were inside the high rises. I was outside.” “Then how do you know they were dealing drugs?” “Because I saw these young lads – girls too – going in, one or two at a time and…”

Guesswork

Brian interrupted. “Where exactly were you when this was going on?”

“Sitting in my car.”

“So you were some distance away?”

“Yes, but I took photographs: the kids going in, the junkies…”

“You don’t know they were junkies.”

“Of course they were. What else d’you think they’d have been buying?”

“Contraband fags? Stolen mobiles? Pirated CDs?” “Whatever.” Maggie reached for his hand. “I wanted to ask… will you look into it for me, Brian?” He snorted. “No way.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s guesswork, that’s all it amounts to. It’s evidence the police need. Hard evidence that will stand up in a court of law. Besides which, if these kids are involved in drug dealing, it’s none of your business.”

Maggie snatched her hand away. “Then whose business is it, Brian Burnett?” She banged her fist down on the table so hard that the cups rattled in their saucers. “Yours?”

“Maggie…” Reasoned voice. “Conducting amateur surveillance into suspected drug dealing could be construed as obstructing the police in the course of their duties.”

Detective work

Her eyes narrowed. “And who’s likely to co-operate with them? Tell me that. Not the druggies. Not the child. Especially when their only experience of our proud police force is having the cavalry roll up with their body armour and their big red door rams.”

Brian threw up his hands in exasperation. “All that notwithstanding, the way you wanted me to look into this company of Gilruth’s, the way you’re going after Brannigan, and now these wee lads in Seaton. You can’t go sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you. There are rules to be followed, you know. Laws to be obeyed.”

“There’s no point taking the moral high ground with me. You’re forgetting that private investigators aren’t governed by the same ethical code as the police.”

“Oh, yes they are. Anyhow, I’ve given away quite enough information for today. Any progress your end?”

Cut to the chase. “That’s why I wanted to see you. I’ve found Brannigan.”

Brian whistled through his teeth. “There’s a turn-up. How did you manage that?”

“Detective work.” Triumphant smile. “First, I managed to narrow the field some.” Maggie made a face. “I’ve been in that many pubs I reckon I could write a guidebook.”

Brian sat up. “You didn’t go on your own?” “Who else would I go with?”

“Dare I suggest your pal Wilma?”

Maggie tutted. “Wilma’s too well known over there.”

“You can say that again.”

“Now, don’t start.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t say a thing. So… Brannigan, have you actually spoken to him?”

“Yes.”

“What did he have to say?”

“He said,” she paused for dramatic effect, “f*** off.” She grimaced. “Doesn’t that say it all? I reckoned I was halfway there when I nailed him, but my grand plan seems to be suffering one setback after another.” “Mmm. I see what you mean.”

“So,” Maggie gave a shrug, “where do I go now?” “No idea.”

Plea bargain

“But, Brian,” she leaned in close, “I’ve been counting on you to come up with the answer.”

He had a rush of blood. If ever there was a chance to redeem himself in Maggie Laird’s eyes, it was now.

“The only thing I can think of…” He broke off, distracted, as he caught a waft of her scent. “Well?”

He jolted back to his senses. “What was I saying? Oh, yes, the only thing I can think of is you could mebbe do a trade. Long shot, mind, but…”

“A trade,” Maggie butted in. “How d’you mean?” “A plea bargain, if you like. Persuade the authorities to offer Brannigan immunity from prosecution or even a reduced jail sentence if he’ll admit to perjury.”

Her spirits soared. “Could you go to the fifth floor with that?”

Brian recoiled in horror. “No way.”

Wilma’s words don’t ask, don’t get echoed in Maggie’s head.

“Chisolm…” she persisted. “Would he take it upstairs?”

“The DI? Doubt it.”

“Somebody else, then.”

He held up his hands. “Nobody I know.” “There must be some other way, surely?” she pleaded.

“Not that I can think of.”

The corners of Brian’s mouth twitched. “What?” she demanded fiercely.

He made a show of straightening his face. “Nothing.”

“Tell me,” she insisted.

“I said…” He tried and failed to smother a laugh. “It’s nothing.”

“Brian Burnett, if you don’t tell me, I’ll…”

He caved in. “The only other way I can see to get Bobby Brannigan to admit to perjury is…” “Brian,” Maggie hissed. “Spit it out.”

“Put a gun to his head.”

More tomorrow