Beacon Brodie: A Losers Club Murder Mystery (Book 6) by Yvonne Vincent

Author:Yvonne Vincent [Vincent, Yvonne]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: WHB
Published: 2023-07-20T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

Sergeant Wilson didn’t even like KitKats very much but she’d be buggered if she was going to let that stop her from licking one very, very slowly, all the while engaging in steady eye contact with Fudmuppet, who was sitting at her desk by the window.

They weren’t bad, as biscuits went. It’s just that she was going through a chocolate Hobnob phase. Now, Oreos. In her humble opinion, which to be fair, was not very humble at all, Oreos were the biscuit equivalent of a badly spelt text saying click this link for a tax refund. They should be arrested for impersonating real chocolate biscuits.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice from behind her left shoulder.

‘I’ve done that check you wanted, and DC Khan says the forensics results are back.’

‘Can you not see I’m engaged in important police business here?’

‘I just thought you were sucking a KitKat and trying to seduce DCI Moffat.’

The Sergeant broke off eye contact with Fudmuppet and swung her chair around to face Easy.

‘Seduce…what makes you think I’d go anywhere near that twatbadger’s underpants? They’re probably crispier than your duvet on a Wank Holiday Weekend. Now, stop trying to distract me with all the sexy talk, and tell me what we’ve got.’

She clicked her fingers impatiently and Easy gulped.

‘Fourteen Walker Lane, Fraserburgh. It belongs to a Martia Mathers.’

‘Eminem?’ the Sergeant asked.

Easy’s eyes darted left and then right, as if the correct response was pinned to either the murder board or the door of the men’s toilets. She tried again.

‘Marshall Mathers. Eminem. Two trailer park girls go round the ootside.’

‘Round the ootside?’

‘Round the ootside.’

‘I dunno. I can check if you like, but I don’t think they have trailer parks in the Broch.’

‘Och, you’ve gone and spoilt it now. And we were just getting into the rhythm. Who, pray tell, is Martia Mathers?’

Easy was on firmer ground with this one.

He slipped a printout onto the desk and explained, ‘Mathers, Martia. Thirty-six years old. Born in the tins aisle in Asda, Dyce. Former drug addict. Can you be a former addict? Never mind, that’s what it says here. Previous convictions for theft and assault but has been quiet for the past four years. Inherited the property from her mother, who died…oh, four years ago. Maybe being a property owner has made her clean up her act.’

Sergeant Wilson looked at the photograph on the paper in front of her. A gaunt woman with a prematurely lined forehead and tired eyes stared back at her. There was something familiar about the woman, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

‘Maybe we just haven’t caught her yet,’ said the Sergeant. ‘Enough with the Wikipedia entry. Give me the real dirt. Any known associates?’

‘Intel says she was buddies with a few of the local dealers, but because she hasn’t come across the police radar for a few years, there’s nothing up to date.’

Sergeant Wilson mulled this over. There was no way that a drug addict in Fraserburgh suddenly went quiet unless they were dead or up to no good.

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