Eight
Thursday, 27th March, 2014
The morning started out before dawn. Guthrie had not slept much during the night, the soporific powers of the Auchentoshan unable to overcome the combination of coffee, chocolate, fish and chips. But that was okay. Once breakfast was polished off Guthrie went about gathering some supplies for the day, checking off the items from a mental list, perfected over a quarter of a century of police work:
Two pens, one cheap and the other an expensive Swiss-made item he had bought during a trip to Zurich several years ago; one small, black Moleskine notebook; his iPhone, which came in handy for taking photographs and even recording short interviews.
That was it. Nothing fancy, no big bag of equipment. Guthrie was certainly a practitioner of the K.I.S.S. Principl
