Brian’s admonishments came back to her. “If we don’t do this right, we could get in serious trouble”

Fatboy slapped two cans of Coke and a big bag of salt and vinegar crisps onto the desktop. Lewis fell upon the crisps. “Ta.” For a few moments the two sat, glugging from the chilled cans, snatching handfuls of crisps from the open packet. Fatboy winked. “Fancy watching some more?” Lewis drained the last of his Coke. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Naw.” Fatboy scrunched the cans and chucked them into a corner. The empty crisp packet followed. “Didn’t Willie mention Goth movies were more your scene?”

The boy brightened. “Aye.”

“What?” Fatboy racked his brains. “That Twilight stuff?” He’d heard that was what young teens were into these days. “Naw,” Lewis scoffed. “Twilight’s fur quines.”

“Something a bit meatier, then?” Lewis sat forward. “Tell you what,” Fatboy bent to the boy’s ear, “let’s see if I can find you something that’s got bloodsucking as well.” He keyed in some search terms. “Wait till you see this…” He opened a link.

The wee lad’s eyes swivelled back to the screen. “Holy moly,” Lewis breathed. “That better?” Fatboy turned. The boy nodded assent. “You up for more?”

Screamed

Vigorously, Lewis dipped his chin. Fatboy typed another couple of words into Google.

Scrolled down the page that popped up. Opened a link at random.

Lewis’s eyes were out on stalks now, his mouth hanging open. “You OK?” Fatboy turned to him.

The boy sat, rigid, eyes locked on the flickering screen. Suddenly, “Ch-rist,” Lewis screamed at the top of his voice. “Shhhh,” Fatboy pressed a finger to the boy’s lips.

Lewis screeched again. “Lewis,” Fatboy hissed. “Shut it.” Lewis started to sob, then: huge, wrenching sobs that shook his small frame. Fatboy could hear heavy footsteps cross the floor above his head. All he needed now was his neighbour at the door.

“Be quiet,” he put a restraining hand on the small boy’s arm. Lewis was hysterical now, his body shuddering, his voice shrill.

Above his head, Fatboy could hear a door open, slam shut again. What the hell was he going to do?

He squeezed the boy’s arm. “Did you hear me?” he threatened. Lewis squirmed, but carried on sobbing. Fatboy’s grip tightened. No reaction.

“Shut up,” he clamped a large hand over Lewis’s nose and mouth.

“Good Lord,” Maggie looked up from the witness statements she was working through as Wilma staggered through the back door. “What on earth have you been up to?”

“Let me get shot of these heels first.” She kicked off her shoes, sank onto a chair. “My feet are killing me.”

“Where have you been?” Sheepish look. “Down the harbour.”

“Doing what?”

“Checking out that John Cowie. Like you asked me to.”

“For heaven’s sake, Wilma, when I asked you to check out Cowie I didn’t mean you to take me literally. Nor,” her lips formed a thin line, “dress up like a…a…” “H**r?” Wilma shot back.

“You said it. In addition to which, we’ve only just got started. We’re not equipped yet to be conducting clandestine operations.”

Guilty thought. Maggie hadn’t yet told Wilma about her surveillance on the boys.

“Let’s confine ourselves to the routine stuff for now. Take it in baby steps.” Brian’s admonishments came back to her. “If we don’t do this right, we could get in serious trouble.”

Scoffed

“Right?” Wilma scoffed. “Do ye no think we’re in the wrong business for that?”

God only knows. “I’m not arguing with you. All I’m saying is that we have to walk before we can run.”

“Och,” Wilma spluttered, “Maggie Laird, ye’re such a country mouse.”

“I’m pragmatic, that’s all.”

“What does that mean?” Maggie yawned. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

“Are you no the one said we wis tae divvy up? Dae whit we wis best at?” Oot an’ aboot on the divorce cases, if ah mind right.”

“Well, yes.” Maggie had the grace to look abashed. “An are we no strapped for cash? What d’ye think’s the quickest way to get a result?” Maggie lowered her head. “So…did you?”

“Yes and no. I managed to establish that Cowie frequents the locus.” “Oh,” she brightened. “Good for you! Got evidence?”

“Not yet. Lassie I spoke to isn’t willing to put her name to it.” Maggie’s shoulders sagged. “So that’s another case for the bin.”

“Not a bit. I’ll put in another hour or two on Thursday.”

“You most certainly will not.”

“Oh, come on, I’m nearly there. It’s just a matter of persevering.”

“Dressed like that?” Wilma drew herself up. “Don’t be such a prude.”

“I am not. Well, not since I met you, Wilma Harcus.” For some moments the two cast filthy looks at one another.

Wilma broke the silence. “I see what you’re saying, Maggie. But we’re no gonna get results sittin’ round here.” Grudging. “No-o-o.”

“I was just tryin to be… what’s the word? Proactive. An if ye’re going to hang out down the docks, ye have to look the part. On a cheerier note, before I went out, I managed to run some of those background checks you gave me.”

“Wow, that was quick. Don’t know how you found the time.” Suspicious look. “You didn’t rope Ian in, did you?”

“You have to be joking. He’s only just getting used to the idea.”

Smug look

“Come on, then, open up. We’ll need to share knowhow. Otherwise, how are we going to learn?”

“Well…” Smug look. “The first lesson I’ve learned is do your homework.”

“You don’t need to tell me that.”

Wilma pouted. “All right, Miss Pupil Support. But seriously, I’ve learned the hard way that the more research you put in beforehand, the quicker you get the case wrapped up when you go out in the field.” “Yes, but how… ?”

“Social media.” Wilma gave Maggie a triumphant grin. “Facebook’s my number one friend these days, closely followed by Twitter and LinkedIn. You’ve no idea the amount of useful stuff I’ve found on that lot.” “Like what, for example?”

“You know that employment tribunal case – guy claimed he was unfit for work?”

“Yes.”

“He posted pictures of himself playing footie,” Wilma beamed. “Daft b****r.”

“I’d never have thought of that. Don’t suppose you turned up anything on Jimmy Craigmyle while you were at it?”

“Sorry,” the smile vanished from Wilma’s face. “Facebook account’s been disabled. Did you have any joy with that number you got from your pal Brian?” “No.”

“Never mind. Between the three of us, we’re bound to find him.”

Maggie’s mouth turned down. “I hope so.”

More tomorrow.