Blind Eye Read Online Free PDF Page B

of cigarette ash out of the passenger window, 'I think I've finally found one of these damn things that fits.' She tugged at her bra strap, making the contents jiggle.
Logan went back to his paper - there was no way he was getting drawn into another conversation about the Detective Inspector's underwear. Five minutes to eleven on a Friday morning and the sun was dappling its way through the trees, sending little flecks of light dancing across the speed-bumps outside Sunnybank Primary School. 'How long do we have to keep doing this?'
'Till we catch the bastard.' Steel gave up on her boobs and lounged back in her seat. 'Anyway, what you whinging about? Three days sitting on your arse in the sunshine, reading the paper and eating ice-lollies. You rather be running around after DCI Frog-Face?'
She had a point.
'No, we lounge about here till four, sod off home for the weekend and back again on Monday for another glorious week of doing bugger all.' The inspector took a long drag on her cigarette and blew, fogging the windscreen with secondhand smoke. 'Not like we got anything better to do, is it? Bloody Finnie...'
Here we go again.
'I mean, who the hell does he think he is? "Stop interviewing that prisoner,"' she said, doing a less than flattering impersonation of the Detective Chief Inspector, '"You're interfering with an ongoing investigation." Ongoing investigation my sharny arse. Bastard just wants all the sodding glory for himself.'
She snorted. 'And can you believe he let Derek McSpotty walk with a caution? We caught the wee bastard red-handed kicking the crap out of someone, resisting arrest, and being a lying junky tosspot. "You have to see the bigger picture, Inspector."' She smoked furiously for a moment. 'I'll show Finnie the bigger picture with the toe of my bloody boot.'
'What do you want to do for lunch today? We could grab a sandwich, or--'
'Kebab.' The inspector finished her cigarette and dumped the stub into an open can of Pepsi, swirling it around in the warm, flat liquid. 'That place in Sandilands. And while we're there we can accidentally nip next door to the Turf 'n Track. Have another wee chat with Simon McLeod.'
'But Finnie--'
'Finnie can pucker up and kiss my perky bumhole. Since that wee riot on Tuesday we've had five Polish blokes in A&E with their kneecaps smashed. Someone took a claw hammer to them.' She struck a pose, tapping the side of her forehead. 'Now who do we know with form for battering people with a claw hammer? Think, think, think...'
'OK, OK, I get it: Colin McLeod. But Finnie--'
'What is he, your boyfriend or something?'
'Why do you have to make everything--'
The school bell jangled through the warm, lazy air - eleven o'clock on the dot. Time for morning break.
'We're on.'
Screams and shouts echoed out of the school, then a stampede of five-to-seven-year-olds dressed in the standard grey-and-blue primary uniform burst out into the sunshine, hell bent on cramming as much fun as possible into their fifteen minutes of freedom.
'Anything?' asked Steel.
Logan checked the street. 'Nope. Looks like... wait a minute... Blue Toyota Yaris: there, just pulling up. You see it?'
The inspector shuffled forward in her seat, peering through the windscreen at the little mud-spattered car. The driver got out and wandered over to the playground fence. Beige cardigan, grey hair, feral moustache.
'About sodding time.' Steel clambered her way into the warm morning, and sauntered down the road with her hands in her pockets.
Logan locked up and followed her, nipping across the road at the last minute so he could come round on the guy's blind side.
Not that the man in the beige cardigan would have noticed, he was far too busy smiling at a little girl through the railings. Blonde hair, pigtails, big blue eyes.
'You know,' said the man, hands rummaging in his trouser pockets, 'my doggie's very sick and can't look after her puppies. Isn't that sad?'
The little girl nodded.
'Would you like to see them? Maybe you could