Duplicity by Pete Brassett

Author:Pete Brassett [Brassett, Pete]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Book Folks crime fiction publishers
Published: 2017-04-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

West pulled two fillet steaks and a packet of “twice-cooked-basted-in-goose-fat chips” from the fridge, plonked them on the counter and settled down at the dining table where she fired up her laptop as Munro, keen to sate a raging thirst, poured two glasses of Burgundy and a large Balvenie.

‘Here you go Charlie,’ he said, eyeing the box on the counter as he passed her the wine. ‘Did you not say home-made chips when you mentioned dinner?’

‘That’s what it says on the packet,’ said West.

Munro smiled mischievously.

‘Have you booked yourself a holiday yet?’ he said.

‘Holiday? Bit of an odd question, no. Why?’

‘I think you might find a week or two on the Costa Cordon Bleu beneficial.’

‘And you might find a hotel beneficial if you don’t want to be stabbed through the heart with a potato peeler. Stick the oven on, chips’ll take a while.’

‘Right you are.’

‘Tell me something, Jimbo, don’t you ever tire of eating steak?’

‘Aye, I do,’ said Munro. ‘Occasionally.’

‘Good, I’ll cook something different tomorrow. What do you like when you’re not eating steak?’

‘Beef.’

‘I give up,’ said West with a smirk as the emails rolled in. ‘Hup, you’d better sit down, I’ve got an email from Dougal. It’s the results of the post-mortem on Angus Buchanan.’

Munro pulled up a chair, took a large glug of wine and leaned back, closing his eyes.

‘You read, I’ll listen,’ he said. ‘It’ll be like Book at Bedtime.’

West sat with her elbows on the table, cradling the glass in both hands and frowned as she scanned through the report.

‘Bloody hell,’ she said, ‘you couldn’t make this up.’

‘Go on.’

‘Okay, cause of death was asphyxiation. He choked to death.’

‘Choked to death?’ said Munro. ‘The poor man looked as though he’d seen the four horsemen of the apocalypse when we found him, are you sure?’

‘That’s what it says here,’ said West. ‘Hold on though, you were right after all. He did have a stroke, it’s what he choked on that caused it.’

‘I get the distinct feeling it’s not a peppermint, is it?’

‘Close. They found a sizable chunk of methamphetamine lodged in his throat.’

Munro opened his eyes, took another glug of wine and stood to check the temperature of the oven.

‘Methamphetamine?’ he said, his face crumpled with consternation ‘You mean…?’

‘Crank, Glass, Chalk, Ice,’ said West, offering up her glass for a refill. ‘Crystal Meth to you and me.’

Munro charged their glasses for a second time and leaned back against the counter.

‘No, no. That doesnae fit,’ he said. ‘Angus Buchanan was not a user.’

‘Acute overdose which brought about a stroke and heart attack.’

‘Then it was administered,’ said Munro. ‘I’ll stake my reputation on it. Somebody forced it down his gullet.’

‘Only one person could’ve done that,’ said West. ‘Dubrowski.’

‘Unless he was dead before they put him in the taxi.’

‘Something else,’ said West, ‘they found traces of blood in his mouth…’

‘Not surprising.’

‘…thing is, it’s not his. DNA test says origin unknown. There’s no match on the database. They reckon he probably bit his assailant at some point while they were shoving it down his neck.

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