Bad Boy by Peter Robinson

proud. His father, who had worked on the Glasgow shipyards after the war, had been a strong trade unionist, and some of the old socialist ideals had rubbed off on his son. “My personal opinions on the matter in hand are hardly relevant,” McLaughlin said. “The point at issue here is that a life has been tragically lost, and a family is in mourning. I ask you all to respect their grief.”
    “Do you respect it?” someone called out. “Isn’t it true that you’ve been interrogating and harassing the Doyle family since yesterday morning?”
    “I can’t discuss the details of the ongoing investigation at this stage, but I can assure you that there has been no harassment on our part.”
    More grumbles and shuffling, then another voice spoke out. This time it was Luke Stafford of the Sun . “What part did Erin Doyle play in all this?” he asked. “Patrick Doyle’s daughter. Was the gun hers?”
    “I’m not at liberty to discuss such the detail of an ongoing investigation.”
    “So you think it was? She was seen by a neighbor being led out of the house in handcuffs,” Stafford went on. “And isn’t it true that she was mixing with some pretty bad company in Leeds? Drug dealers and such scum?”
    Annie could see that this was the first McLaughlin had heard of it. It was the first she had heard of it, too. They must have sent a reporter to dig around. “I can’t comment on that, Mr. Stafford,” said McLaughlin, “but if you have any information pertinent to our investigation, I hope you’ll do your duty as a citizen and come forward with it.” Then he stood up. “I’m afraid that’s all for now, ladies and gentlemen. This conference is over.”
    Annie could tell that the crowd wasn’t happy with the way things had gone. They had wanted blood and had got merely the scent of it. God only knew what they would write now.
    McLaughlin was also clearly not happy. On his way out of the door, he leaned toward Annie and Gervaise and said between gritted teeth, “Just what the hell was all that about? What do we know about Erin Doyle’s life in Leeds?”
    “Nothing yet, sir,” said Gervaise. “We’ve hardly started our investigation yet.”
    “The newspapers obviously have. I suggest you get a move on with it. Let’s bloody well find out what’s going on before the red tops get there, shall we? I want results, and I want them fast. I also want them first .”
    “Yes, sir,” said Gervaise. When McLaughlin had gone, she turned to Annie and said, “In my office in an hour.”
    This could be interesting, Annie thought. She had planned on going down to Leeds on her own after work to talk to Tracy Banks, anyway, but now the Leeds connection was an official part of the investigation. She should tell Gervaise that Erin Doyle and Tracy Banks shared a house; there was no doubt that she would find out soon enough, anyway. But Annie also thought that she owed it to Banks to keep his daughter out of trouble, if she was in any trouble, if that was at all possible. She decided to tread cautiously and keep her own counsel for the moment, at least until she had a better grasp of exactly what it was they were investigating.
     
    OF COURSE , the inevitable had happened. Tracy and Jaff had stayed up most of the night, first drinking Banks’s Highland Park and smoking joints in the conservatory, laughing and playing Animal Collective, Fleet Foxes, and My Morning Jacket, then ransacking the DVD collection for something to watch. They had settled on one of the Jason Bourne films, basically just a long chase punctuated by close-combat fights and shoot-outs. Again, Jaff had chucked the DVDs he didn’t like on the floor, which was getting quite littered by then. Tracy remembered the jewel cases crunching and splintering undertheir feet as they stumbled toward the stairs. After that, things had got very blurry.
    When Tracy awoke at about half past ten in the morning, she was lying naked under the duvet in her old bedroom, and