Page 101 of Better the Devil

Could the lad really be this gormless? Could anyone?

Or was that all a performance, hiding a sharper intellect and keener mind than anyone gave him credit for?

Logan prided himself on his ability to see people as they truly were, but even after all this time, he was none the bloody wiser.

‘We can’t tell her, boss, OK?’ Tyler urged. ‘Sinead, I mean. About my interview. About what I did. She would’ve got the promotion, anyway. I don’t want her thinking she only got it because I, you know, said all that stuff.’

‘Oh, don’t you worry, son,’ Logan said. He met the younger man’s eye as he opened the office door. ‘I don’t think anyone in their right mind would ever think that.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

By the timeLogan and the others had got themselves organised for a Big Board catch-up, they’d been joined in the Incident Room by Sergeant Gavin Fleck.

Gavin had been polite, and thanked Logan for the opportunity to be so directly involved in the case, but there had been just a suggestion of reluctance to it, and Logan had got the impression that the sergeant would rather still have been out there searching for Joe Robertson.

‘You’ll do more good in here,’ Jack had told him, and though Fleck had looked skeptical, he hadn’t argued.

Ben Forde remained through in the obs room, presumably still making his way through his big bag of popcorn as he watched DCI Reeve continue to question Bosco Maximuke. If there were any big reveals from that, Ben had promised to come through and share them.

Logan wasn’t expecting anything major, though. The Russian was good at keeping secrets. If he shared anything, it would only be because it was to his advantage.

Besides, right now, Bosco wasn’t the Maximuke that worried him.

The team, newly expanded to include Sergeant Fleck, raced through a quick status check.

Joe Robertson was still missing.

Same with the Belov brothers, although at least their car had been found abandoned just off the motorway near Carlisle.

Nobody in Aviemore had any idea about Victor Belov’s love life.

Neither the shards of glass nor the footprints at the first murder scene had been identified.

There was still no sign of either murder weapon.

The unknown fingerprint on the designer handbag remained unidentified.

‘In short,’ Logan concluded. ‘We’re pretty much fucked.’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Dave Davidson replied. He gestured to the board. ‘I’d say we’re completely fucked.’

Logan scratched at his stubble and nodded. ‘No, you’re right. That does feel more accurate.’

‘What about the money, boss? In the bag? How much was there?’

‘Forty grand,’ Hamza said, answering on the DCI’s behalf.

‘Bloody hell,’ Tyler remarked. ‘Do we know where it came from?’

‘Oh, eh, aye!’ Sergeant Fleck half-raised a hand. ‘It was… Joe Robertson found it in the back of the victim’s car.’

‘Right. Aye. No.’ Tyler smiled at him. It was a kindly thing. Pitying, almost. Logan would’ve slit his own throat there and then if he’d found himself on the receiving end of a look like that from Tyler. ‘I meant… before that.’

Fleck lowered his hand, his cheeks already starting to sting red around the edges.

‘Sorry, aye. Course. Wasn’t thinking.’

‘Got to be the wife’s, surely?’ Sinead suggested. ‘Eleanor Belov. I mean, sheisminted.’