Quite Ugly One Morning by Christopher Brookmyre

Quite Ugly One Morning by Christopher Brookmyre

Author:Christopher Brookmyre [Brookmyre, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: General, Murder, Fiction, Journalists, Mystery & Detective, Hard-Boiled, Edinburgh (Scotland), Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery Fiction, Children of the Rich, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780802138613
Google: 9pAl0TQ1BywC
Amazon: 0802138616
Publisher: Grove Press
Published: 1996-01-02T08:00:00+00:00


EIGHTEEN

Mike Gorman’s secretary, Guadeloupe, didn’t put calls through from just anybody. Not only were there less than a dozen names that guaranteed direct transfer, but there were only a few more that she would even ask him for a yes or no on. Her boss was a very busy man, which was one thing, but as Metro editor of the LA Tribune, he got hundreds of calls every day from hopeful hacks and hopeless nutcases.

Elvis called a couple of times a week.

A story bigger than Watergate was breaking most Tuesdays.

Jimmy Hoffa frequently rang from somewhere inside the Bermuda Triangle, usually collect.

And Mike was too busy to talk to any of them.

In fact, that afternoon Guadeloupe wasn’t putting many calls through at all. She had told him he looked like shit (sir) and should be taking the day off. He was worried‐looking, upset, unshaven and tired, and had been growing more so with each of the previous few days.

Mike wouldn’t let Guadeloupe fuss over him like that, mainly because he enjoyed it too much, but also because he was precisely the kind of workaholic who, when told he was unwell, worried that he’d have to knuckle under more to make up for not operating at full capacity.

So when Guadeloupe took a call for Mike ‘from beyond the grave’, she told the person on the other end that he was only taking calls from this world today.

‘He’s pretty shaken up, then, I’d guess,’ the caller said. ‘I might be able to put his mind at rest.’

‘Who is this?’ she asked.

‘I can’t tell you, but I can assure you Mike will be pleased to find out.’

Mike didn’t sound very pleased after Guadeloupe put the call through.

‘Where the fuck are you, you miserable Scottish prick? I thought you were dead. In fact after the week I’ve just been through I was fucking hoping you were dead, so that at least all this worry would be worth a goddamn.’

‘I’m in Edinburgh,’ said the voice after the satellite delay.

‘Edinburro Scotland?’

‘No, Edinburro Nevada. It’s just outside Buttfuck. We’re thinking of throwing up a few casinos, getting the town off the ground. Of course I’m in fucking Scotland. I couldn’t hang around in LA. I’ve got a bad allergy to bullets.’

‘I guess your hunch was right then. How far did you get?’

‘Not very. Dangerous people, Mike. Out of my league, anyway.’

‘So what happened to you, Jack? Jesus, your place. You know they found…’

‘I know what they found, Mike. And what I don’t tell you, you don’t have to lie about, OK?’

‘Roger that.’

‘I’m going to be staying here a while, obviously.’

‘Bit of hang time might be advisable for a man of your recent history. Go for it.’

‘’Fraid not. I’m on to something out here.’

‘Oh, surprisorama. New town, same story.’

‘Something like that. I need a favour, Mike.’

‘Jesus, Jack. You were on the telephone for nearly a whole minute before you said that. That makes this like a birthday call or something.’

‘Well, after what I put you through. Have you got



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