Turpitude by Pete Brassett

Author:Pete Brassett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: THE BOOK FOLKS: best-selling crime fiction publishers
Published: 2019-09-28T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

With his hands clasped firmly behind his back and his face tilted up towards the sun, Munro, surrounded by acre upon acre of rolling, green farmland, smiled contentedly as he strolled across the field like a laird on a constitutional whilst his prospective partner – stopping, turning, and waiting without the need for a leash or a whistle – ambled obediently by his side.

Pausing for a breather, he squatted on his haunches and offered the hound a small piece of broccoli followed by a green bean and a slice of carrot, all of which were flatly refused in favour of a beef-flavoured treat.

‘I see you and I are cut from the same cloth,’ he said as the terrier raised a paw. ‘Kindred spirits, you might say. Aye, that’s the word, kindred.’

Distracted by a dishevelled figure waving from beyond the hedgerow, Munro stood and, recognising the bedraggled scruff as one of his own, beckoned him over, his raised palm advising him to proceed with caution.

‘Well, hello wee man!’ said Duncan as the dog leapt to greet him. ‘And who the devil are you?’

‘This,’ said Munro, ‘is Murdo. Murdo, this sartorially-challenged gentleman is Detective Sergeant Reid. You’ll be seeing a lot of each other, no doubt.’

‘He’s a cracker, chief! Are you taking him?’

‘Oh, I cannae refuse him now. We have what I believe folk in these circles call a bond.’

‘I’m made up for you. Have you sorted all the paperwork?’

‘Not yet, but there’s no rush. They said we could walk out here for as long as we like.’

‘Well, it’s too good a day to be stuck indoors,’ said Duncan, ‘just mind he doesn’t overheat.’

‘How so?’

‘Heatstroke, chief. Dogs are susceptible to it, especially the older ones. See here, it might seem like a pleasant day to you and me but they suffer in the heat. If you do take him out in this kind of weather, be sure to walk him in the shade, and make sure you’ve always got a bottle of water with you.’

‘Well, I’m indebted to you, laddie,’ said Munro. ‘I never realised.’

‘Oh, I’m sure they would’ve told you before you left. Will we walk a while?’

‘Aye, we should,’ said Munro. ‘You’ve obviously got something on your mind.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘Why else would you be traipsing across a field in the middle of nowhere with a retired copper and a pensionable dog?’

‘Fair do’s,’ said Duncan. ‘I need to tap your brain; some advice is what I’m after.’

‘I’ll do my best. So, what’s the story?’

‘Meena Singh-Gill,’ said Duncan. ‘I’ll not bore you with the details just now but I interviewed Tarif Khan earlier and if he’s telling the truth, which I believe he is, then we’ve another likely scenario on our hands which is complicating things.’

‘Go on.’

‘Okay. Until this morning we knew that her stepbrother, Navinder…’

‘Hold on,’ said Munro. ‘Stepbrother?’

‘Aye. It turns out they’re not related after all. Anyway, we’ve always assumed that he was alone with her in the house the night that she was attacked.’

‘But?’

‘But she wasn’t,’ said Duncan.

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