The old man bit his top lip with his one good bottom tooth, and thought this over. “What caravan?” he eventually asked. “Did you get a caravan, Dinky? That’s pure magic, wee man! Can I get a shot?”
“No, the… Jesus. You’re getting worse, do you know that?” Dinky said, then he raised his eyes to Logan again. “We went there looking for Bernie. That’s all. We didn’t set fire to anything.”
“Why were you looking for him?” Logan asked. “I thought he wasn’t due a payment yet.”
“He isn’t. Wasn’t. But he would have been soon,” Dinky explained. “Hadn’t heard from him in a while, and considering what he bought with the money I loaned him, I wanted to make sure he hadn’t done a runner.”
“What did he buy?” Tyler asked.
“A van. Knackered old thing off Craigslist. Said he didn’t want to hitchhike up the road anymore. Said he was worried someone might do him in.”
“Someone specific?”
Dinky shrugged and pulled a face at the Detective Constable. “The fuck should I know? I’m not his mum. I’ve already got one useless headcase to take care of. But, I think he just meant in general. Because people are bastards.”
Logan shared that sentiment so offered no argument. Instead, he focused on the big headline reveal. “He bought a van?”
“Aye. Sent me a link to the listing.”
“You still have that?” Logan asked.
“Maybe. What’s it worth?”
“It’s worth me not calling the drug squad in here and having them turn this place upside down,” Logan countered.
Dinky tutted. “Right, fine. Aye. I’ll find it,” he said, taking out his phone.
Logan continued the questioning while Dinky scrolled through his old messages.
“So, you went to visit him yesterday. Then what?”
“Then Ally Bally clocked a bunch of people already in there, and legged it back to the car.”
Both detectives looked down at the old man on the couch in horror. “He doesn’t drive, does he?” Tyler asked.
“Fuck no. I wouldn’t trust him to ride a bike. I do, though.”
“Oh. Right,” the DC said. His gaze flitted from the top of Dinky’s head to the tips of his toes. “Do you have, like, a special wee car?”
Dinky frowned. “What do you mean? Like a dodgem?”
“He’s no’ Noddy, son,” Logan said. “It’ll be a specially adapted vehicle, I’d have thought. Right?”
“Right. Exactly,” Dinky said.
Tyler wanted to ask more. ‘Specially adapted’ could mean almost anything. It could even mean that they’d taken a standard-sized vehicle and shrunk it. Obviously not with a shrink ray or anything—he knew that much—but just by building the parts smaller and slotting them all together.
He decided, though, that it was probably best if he kept his mouth shut on the matter, or face the prospect of repeating his diversity training.
“So, he ran back to the car, you drove off,” Logan said. “That’s what you’re claiming?”
“That’s what happened.”
“Nothing in there you’ve forgotten to mention?”
Dinky shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Except that briefcase,” Ally Bally said. He beamed proudly, and winked at the dwarf in the armchair. “Who’s the one whose brain’s all spangled now, Dinky, eh? And he says I’m the one wi’ a bad memory.”
Logan and Tyler both peered down at Dinky, saying nothing. The little man gritted his teeth and shot a look at Ally Bally that said he was in for a hiding later, then ejected a sigh of frustration.
“Alright, I may have had a wee peek in when they two clowns were off chasing that numptie fuck,” he announced. “And I may—may—have acquired a briefcase, which I intended to hold onto as security until my money was repaid.”
“You took the briefcase,” Tyler said. “Boss, he took the briefcase!”
“Aye, I heard him, Detective Constable. I’m going to choose to ignore the legalities of taking an item that doesn’t belong to you, Dinky. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear that,” Logan said. “But I’m sure it won’t come as any surprise when I say that my doing so hinges entirely on you handing it over.”
“That’s my collateral,” Dinky protested. “I need to be compensated for him being dead somehow, don’t I?”
Logan made a show of giving this some thought. “Eh, no. No, you don’t,” he concluded. “So, get up off your arse, get us the briefcase, and send us that link to the van he was buying.”
He bent over, bringing his face closer to the little man in the chair, and glaring at him like some vengeful ancient god. “Or, would you rather we did this the hard way?”
Tyler didn’t turn back. Not even when the dog started growling as he and Logan trudged away from the house. He’d already told it in no uncertain terms to, “Fuck off, mate!” while it was humping and ripping at the fallen Ally Bally, and it had, to his surprise, done as it was told.
Neither detective said a word until they were back in the car. Tyler had been carrying the briefcase, and now that he’d managed to shed the squirrel outfit, he set the case on his knees with the handle facing him. It was an old-style boxy thing with a coating of artificial black leather. There were combination locks on both clasps, Dinky didn’t know the combination, and hadn’t yet got around to forcing the case open, so they were none the wiser as to what was inside.
It felt reasonably heavy, though. When Tyler shook it, he thought it sounded like paperwork. But, when Logan pointed out that for all they knew the briefcase might contain an explosive device, he’d given up trying to figure out what was inside, and had cautiously lowered the case to his side.
“What now, boss?” he asked, warily eyeing the thing’s worn leather patina. “Should we… Do we open it?”
“We don’t know the code, and I don’t really want to force it until we know what’s in there. It’s probably just paperwork, but I don’t want to go buggering about with the locks until we know for sure.
Tyler exhaled, clearly relieved. “Aye, that sounds like a good plan. I’d rather not get blown to bits, if I can avoid it.”
Logan gazed ahead, deep in thought, watching the movements of the trees. They were exposed this high on the hillside, and the wind creaked the thick branches as it blew along the neighbouring Loch Lochy—so named because… Well, presumably because someone was a lazy bastard.
“You fancy a wee run up the road to Inverness?” he asked.
Tyler glanced out across the loch at the darkening sky. It was well past dinner time now, and Strontian—and Sinead—felt like a very long way away. “What for, boss?”
Logan tapped the top of the briefcase. “I’ve got an idea,” he said.
He put the car into reverse, eased his foot down on the accelerator, and was thrown forward on his seat when Tyler reapplied the handbrake.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
Tyler swallowed, but didn’t look away from the DCI’s glare. “What’s the idea, boss?”
“Excuse me?”