Lying Dead by Aline Templeton

the phone carefully in its bag. ‘Manchester! That’s a surprise.’
        Tam bristled. ‘What’s she doing here? Started trying to reduce their crime statistics by dumping their bodies on us, have they?’
        ‘Even for you that’s paranoid. Like the boys in blue in Manchester have a disposal squad going round Scotland looking for likely sites? Anyway, I’ll have to contact them tonight to ask them to go and break the news to Brewer. We may find ourselves having to work quite closely with them, Tam, so you’d better stop reading Burns until this one’s out of the way. I blame him for your rabid nationalist attitude.’
        She turned to Christie. ‘Someone’ll have to work out how to get that poor lad down off the hill – we needn’t keep him any longer. What about getting him a piggyback? I’m sure you’ve some young, strong constable who’s blotted his copybook in the last few days.’
        ‘Oh, indeed I do. I’ve one who put a dent in his patrol car yesterday. Brown! I’ve a job for you!’
     
    ‘What’s happened to you?’ Jenna Murdoch, putting a vegetable curry into the microwave for her daughter, turned to stare at her husband as he came in. He was sporting a livid bruise on one cheek and his lip was split and swollen.
        ‘I was attacked, that’s what happened.’ He was in a state of barely suppressed fury. ‘Stevenson went for me like a madman after the trials. Not content with conning me over the dog, he comes up when I’m having a quiet drink at the bar and has a go at me.’
        Jenna tried to conceal a smile. ‘Do I take it you and Moss didn’t cover yourselves with glory?’
        ‘What could I do? The dog’s past it, and Stevenson knew it. Who’s going to buy it now, I said, and he started yelling at me. Then, when I told him if I didn’t have a decent offer – from him, preferably – within the week, I was going to have the useless beast put down.’
        Taking a stew out of the oven for their own supper, Jenna froze, waiting for Mirren’s reaction. She had come in just before her father and gone to sit at the kitchen table, saying nothing; she’d probably start throwing crockery at any moment, having inherited her temper from her father’s side of the family.
        But she didn’t even speak. Turning, Jenna saw that her daughter’s face was white and drawn and her dark eyes, burning with hatred, were fixed on her oblivious father.
        The microwave pinged. Relieved to have an excuse to break the tension, Jenna said, ‘Here you are, Mirren. It’s ready now.’ She scooped the food on to a plate and put it in front of her daughter.
        ‘I’m not hungry.’ Mirren didn’t drop her gaze.
        ‘Can’t say I am either,’ Niall said. ‘What is it – stew? If it’s your usual watery muck, I’m not sure how much I fancy it, with my lip being sore.’
        Jenna’s lips tightened. She helped herself, then sat down at the table with her own plate. ‘Seems like I’m the only one who’s eating,’ she said lightly.
        Niall was taken aback. ‘Well, that’s nice, isn’t it! I’ve been beaten up, and all my wife can do is sit and stuff her face. I would have thought I might have been entitled to a bit of sympathy and consideration.’ He glanced towards his daughter, as if expecting support, then, encountering her unblinking, accusatory stare, snarled, ‘And you can stop looking at me like that, too!’
        He jumped to his feet. ‘I wouldn’t like you to worry about my supper,’ he said to Jenna with heavy sarcasm. ‘I’ll get something to eat at the Yacht Club.’
        ‘I’m surprised you’re prepared to show your face there,’ she returned with saccharine sweetness, ‘looking like it does.’
        Niall stormed out, slamming the door behind him so hard that the room shook.
        Jenna set down her fork. ‘Oh dear, I don’t think I’m particularly hungry now either.’
        Mirren’s thin body was