The Meating Room by T F Muir

Beyond the junction to Strathkinness, he depressed the pedal and nudged the speed to sixty, then seventy, and held it there.
    ‘Penny for your thoughts?’ he said.
    ‘You can have them for free if you promise to take Jabba for the day.’
    ‘Ah,’ Gilchrist said. ‘So he’s going to spend the day in sunny St Andrews?’
    ‘Not just the day. The whole bloody weekend, so he tells me. Jesus, Andy, what the hell is it with men?’
    Once again, he chose silence. Chief Superintendent Lachlan McKellar of Strathclyde Police – or Jabba the Hutt, as Jessie preferred to call him – had a thing for Jessie. As far as Gilchrist knew, they’d had a brief fling, which Jessie immediately regretted, ending their affair before it started. But Lachie did not know the meaning of the word
no
and pestered Jessie until she finally transferred to Fife, which did little to dampen Lachie’s ardour. His recent threats to leave his wife had finished it for Jessie, and now she wanted nothing more to do with the man. End of.
    Five minutes later, Gilchrist tried again. ‘Has he left his wife, then?’
    ‘She flung him out, more like.’
    ‘So, he’s up for grabs?’
    ‘Grab-hooks, I hope. Then over the side with the fat blob.’
    ‘What does Robert think about all of this?’
    ‘What is it with you this morning? Robert’s off limits. You know that. I don’t go asking about your family, so don’t go asking about mine. Why don’t you just stick to driving the car and getting over your hangover?’
    ‘I’m feeling better, I have to tell you.’
    ‘Well, it must be contagious. I feel like shite now.’
    ‘You’ll perk up once you get your teeth into Chief Super Whyte.’
    She chuckled and shook her head, which had Gilchrist frowning at her, wondering what the joke was. Chief Superintendent Billy Whyte was the SIO in the Thomas Magner rape investigation. He worked out of Glenrothes HQ, and was scheduled to meet Gilchrist and Jessie at 10 a.m.
    ‘I forgot to tell you,’ she said. ‘Well, actually, I remembered last night, but I didn’t want to spoil your evening.’ She tried to tease him with silence for five long seconds, but he refused to bite. ‘Chief Super Whyte asked me if the meeting was really necessary.’
    ‘Why would he say that?’ Gilchrist asked. ‘Billy and I go back years.’
    ‘That’s what he said.’
    Maybe he was still hung over, his brain too befuddled from its recent dose of alcohol to work out the obvious, but he could not think of any reason why Billy Whyte would not want to meet him. ‘You’ve lost me,’ he said.
    ‘Does the name Logan mean anything to you?’
    Gilchrist shot a glance at Jessie.
    ‘Well, that brought the colour back to your cheeks,’ she said.
    ‘Don’t tell me . . .’
    ‘Afraid so.’
    Gilchrist gritted his teeth as he waited for Jessie to confirm his fears.
    ‘DI Carol Logan’, she said, ‘is assisting Chief Super William Whyte in the Thomas Magner case.’
    ‘Ah, shit,’ Gilchrist said, tightening his grip on the wheel.
    ‘That’s what I thought,’ Jessie said. ‘A fucked-up weekend for both of us.’

CHAPTER 10
    Gilchrist drove on in silence, the memory of
that
evening flickering back to life.
    Lafferty’s on South Street, and deep into a Saturday night. It had seemed such an innocent comment for him to make: ‘Are you coming on to me?’ Well, Logan
had
bumped into him and caused him to spill his drink, and he had meant the question as nothing more than a bit of banter between colleagues. But the flash of anger on her face warned him she had missed the point.
    So, he apologised. Mistake number one.
    ‘I seen what you done.’
    The voice from behind surprised him, from a woman he had never seen before.
    ‘You touched her up. I seen you.’
    ‘I’m not that desperate,’ Gilchrist said, regretting the quip the instant it spilled from his mouth. Mistake number two.
    He retreated to the corner of the bar with his pint, and tried to catch Logan’s eye when