Cold Granite by Stuart MacBride Page B
Authors: Stuart MacBride
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Crime, Mystery Fiction, Police, Hard-Boiled, Police Procedural, Children, Children - Crimes against, Aberdeen (Scotland), Police - Scotland - Aberdeen, Serial murders - New York (State) - New York - Fiction
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forming between her neat, brown eyebrows. She was staring at his stomach, where the scars covered the skin with little puckered trails.
'Was it bad?'
Logan cleared his throat and nodded. 'I wouldn't recommend it,' he said. 'Er...I...'
'Do you want a bacon buttie? There weren't any eggs. Or much of anything else come to that.'
He stood, clutching his towel over his embarrassment, feeling the uncomfortable tingle of an approaching erection.
'Wel ?' she asked again: 'Bacon buttie?'
'Er, yeah...Thanks, that'd be great.'
She turned back into the kitchen and Logan ran for the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. God, how drunk did they get last night? Not to be taken with alcohol! He couldn't remember a thing. He didn't even know her first name. How could he sleep with someone when he didn't even know her first name?
He scrubbed himself with the towel, threw it in the corner and fought his stil -damp feet into a pair of black socks.
How the hel could he let this happen? He was a DS and she was a WPC. They worked together. He was her superior officer! DI Insch would have a fit if he started seeing a WPC on his team!
Hopping on one leg, he got his trousers on before realizing he'd forgotten to put on any pants. So off came the trousers again.
'What the hel have you done, you idiot?' he asked the panicking reflection in the mirror.
'She works for you!' The reflection looked back at him, the consternation slowly slipping into a knowing smile. 'Aye, but she's not bad is she?'
Logan had to admit that the reflection had a point. WPC Watson was smart, attractive...And she could beat the shit out of anyone who used her as a one night stand. She wasn't cal ed 'Bal Breaker' for nothing: that's what DI Insch had said!
'Oh God...' A fresh white shirt came out of the wardrobe and he almost strangled himself with a paisley patterned tie before charging back out into the hal . Logan stopped before he got to the kitchen. What the hel was he going to do? Should he come clean and admit he couldn't remember anything? He grimaced. That would go down wel : 'Hi, I'm sorry, but I don't remember having sex with you. Was it good?' Yeah, and oh, by the way: 'What's your name?'
There was nothing else for it: he'd have to keep his mouth shut and let her make the first move. Logan took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen.
The room smel ed of frying bacon and stale beer. WPC Watson and her lovely legs were standing in front of the cooker, poking about in the frying pan, making the bacon hiss and crackle. Logan was about to say something complimentary to break the ice when someone spoke behind him, making him jump out of his skin.
'Urrrrrrghhhh...Shift over, I don't think I can stand up much longer.'
Logan turned to find a rumpled young man with a rough growth of stubble and bleary eyes, dressed in casual clothes and scratching his arse, waiting for Logan to clear the way to the kitchen.
'Sorry,' Logan mumbled, letting the youth slouch past and col apse into a chair.
'Gnnnnnnnn, my head,' said the newcomer, burying the offending article in his hands and letting it sink to the tabletop.
Watson looked over her shoulder and saw Logan standing there, al done up in his work suit. 'Sit yourself down,' she told him, grabbing a couple of slices of white bread from a new loaf and slapping about half a pack of fried bacon between them. She thumped it down on the tabletop, and chucked more bacon into the pan.
'Er...thanks,' said Logan.
The hungover young man sitting on the other side of the table looked vaguely familiar.
Was it one of the search team? The one who spil ed lager over that bearded bloke from CID?
Watson slammed another bacon buttie onto the table, this time in front of the groaning PC.
'You didn't have to make breakfast,' said Logan, smiling at Watson as she tipped the last of the smoked streaky into the frying pan. A big cloud of hissing steam rose from the pan and she waved it away with the fish slice, little droplets of
'Was it bad?'
Logan cleared his throat and nodded. 'I wouldn't recommend it,' he said. 'Er...I...'
'Do you want a bacon buttie? There weren't any eggs. Or much of anything else come to that.'
He stood, clutching his towel over his embarrassment, feeling the uncomfortable tingle of an approaching erection.
'Wel ?' she asked again: 'Bacon buttie?'
'Er, yeah...Thanks, that'd be great.'
She turned back into the kitchen and Logan ran for the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. God, how drunk did they get last night? Not to be taken with alcohol! He couldn't remember a thing. He didn't even know her first name. How could he sleep with someone when he didn't even know her first name?
He scrubbed himself with the towel, threw it in the corner and fought his stil -damp feet into a pair of black socks.
How the hel could he let this happen? He was a DS and she was a WPC. They worked together. He was her superior officer! DI Insch would have a fit if he started seeing a WPC on his team!
Hopping on one leg, he got his trousers on before realizing he'd forgotten to put on any pants. So off came the trousers again.
'What the hel have you done, you idiot?' he asked the panicking reflection in the mirror.
'She works for you!' The reflection looked back at him, the consternation slowly slipping into a knowing smile. 'Aye, but she's not bad is she?'
Logan had to admit that the reflection had a point. WPC Watson was smart, attractive...And she could beat the shit out of anyone who used her as a one night stand. She wasn't cal ed 'Bal Breaker' for nothing: that's what DI Insch had said!
'Oh God...' A fresh white shirt came out of the wardrobe and he almost strangled himself with a paisley patterned tie before charging back out into the hal . Logan stopped before he got to the kitchen. What the hel was he going to do? Should he come clean and admit he couldn't remember anything? He grimaced. That would go down wel : 'Hi, I'm sorry, but I don't remember having sex with you. Was it good?' Yeah, and oh, by the way: 'What's your name?'
There was nothing else for it: he'd have to keep his mouth shut and let her make the first move. Logan took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen.
The room smel ed of frying bacon and stale beer. WPC Watson and her lovely legs were standing in front of the cooker, poking about in the frying pan, making the bacon hiss and crackle. Logan was about to say something complimentary to break the ice when someone spoke behind him, making him jump out of his skin.
'Urrrrrrghhhh...Shift over, I don't think I can stand up much longer.'
Logan turned to find a rumpled young man with a rough growth of stubble and bleary eyes, dressed in casual clothes and scratching his arse, waiting for Logan to clear the way to the kitchen.
'Sorry,' Logan mumbled, letting the youth slouch past and col apse into a chair.
'Gnnnnnnnn, my head,' said the newcomer, burying the offending article in his hands and letting it sink to the tabletop.
Watson looked over her shoulder and saw Logan standing there, al done up in his work suit. 'Sit yourself down,' she told him, grabbing a couple of slices of white bread from a new loaf and slapping about half a pack of fried bacon between them. She thumped it down on the tabletop, and chucked more bacon into the pan.
'Er...thanks,' said Logan.
The hungover young man sitting on the other side of the table looked vaguely familiar.
Was it one of the search team? The one who spil ed lager over that bearded bloke from CID?
Watson slammed another bacon buttie onto the table, this time in front of the groaning PC.
'You didn't have to make breakfast,' said Logan, smiling at Watson as she tipped the last of the smoked streaky into the frying pan. A big cloud of hissing steam rose from the pan and she waved it away with the fish slice, little droplets of
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