CHAPTER 5 THE STRAW MAN
Scotland decided to show off the next day. It was the kind of weather that makes you understand why they put these scenes on shortbread tins – impossibly blue sky stretching over a sea that glittered like something from the Mediterranean. Though I still needed my jacket zipped to the chin.
We'd arranged to meet at a beautiful garden, where ivy climbed ancient stone walls, and wildflowers spilt across borders, refusing to be contained. Every wooden bench looked like it had witnessed at least a dozen marriage proposals.
Brian fumbled with the light reflector, nearly dropping it twice. "This is madness," he whispered. "We're deceiving a police detective. An actual officer of the law. With his sincere face and everything."
"We're photographers taking photographs. Pl
