Twenty-Two
Guthrie and Alisdair were at Gravesend by seven a.m. Not long after they arrived, Buchanan called them into his office.
“I have another task for the two of you.” Buchanan rearranged the paperwork on his desk.
“Oh, aye? What makes you think we can take time away from a murder case to do you a favour?” Guthrie was ready for a verbal fight with his former colleague. He was in no mood to let him hijack his investigation. Buchanan bristled at the response.
“I don’t think anything of the sort, Tom. And I’ll thank you for exercising a little respect for my authority over your work. Don’t forget, you are a civilian, working under the auspices of Police Scotland and I am ultimately in charge of everything you do here.”
Alisdair looked at his shoes. He didn’t want to make eye contact
