Quite Ugly One Morning Read Online Free

continued. ‘I suppose what I’m really trying to say is that I consider your behaviour to have been . . . unusual. Exceptional, even. So I have to ask myself two questions: A, why you ventured into Dr Ponsonby’s flat, and B, why his condition failed to give you the screaming heebie-jeebies.’
    Parlabane sat back in his chair, hugging himself with the over-long sleeves of his jaggy jumper. His hangover had not abated through his new predicament, and he felt that large quantities of Irn-Bru, fried food and sleep were the only things that could save him. Between Parlabane and those things was McGregor, a man so clearly resigned to the inevitable unpleasantness and frustration of this case that he would probably sit patiently probing Parlabane well into the middle of the next century if he felt he had to.
    Frank, uncomplicated honesty was a dangerous gambit with police anywhere, as you risked blowing their minds, with ugly consequences for all concerned. However, as McGregor was already looking bored in anticipation of a tedious fib, Parlabane decided to chance it.
    ‘All right. A, Curiosity. B, Dr Whatsisface was not the first murder victim I’ve ever seen. I’m assuming you’ve ruled out suicide by this point.’
    McGregor smiled. It wasn’t a big smile, but it was definitely there, and in it Parlabane could see relief, Irn-Bru, fried food and sleep. McGregor made a beckoning gesture with his right hand, encouraging Parlabane to elaborate.
    ‘I am, I will freely admit, a dedicatedly professional nosy bastard,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I’m a journalist, and I’m afraid I find it difficult to walk past an open door, never mind anunguarded crime scene. It’s like a reflex, an uncontrollable instinct.’
    ‘Like a fly to a shite?’ asked Dalziel.
    ‘Well, I’ll admit that groups of cops tend to attract my attention, so if I’m the fly . . .’
    ‘We’re the insecticide, Mr Parlabane,’ said McGregor firmly. ‘So having had a look around, why didn’t you go back out the door?’
    ‘I heard someone coming up the stairs, and I didn’t think it would look good to be found trespassing on a crime scene. After all, I didn’t want to end up in the police station in my underwear, freezing my bollocks off, being questioned about what the hell I was doing by polis who I’m sure have more important things to be getting on with right now.’
    ‘Quite.’
    There was a knock at the door, and Callaghan stuck his head round to beckon McGregor outside for discussion.
    ‘Do you reckon he believes me?’ Parlabane asked Dalziel once they were alone.
    ‘Why are you asking me whether he believes you? Why aren’t you asking me whether I believe you?’
    ‘I already know you believe me.’
    Dalziel laughed, as if she couldn’t help it, and shook her head. She had softly curved features but a rather sharp nose, upon which Parlabane spotted a tiny dimple where he was sure a stud sat when she was off-duty.
    ‘OK,’ she said. ‘You got me. But I’m just the DC, and instinctively believing you could be the kind of mistake I have to learn from as I climb the ranks.’
    ‘But it’s not instinctive,’ he said, shamelessly going into charming/flirtatious mode, forgetful of his ridiculous appearance. ‘You believe me because if I had anything to do with the murder, it would be both unlikely and improbably stupid for me to wander back into the scene of the crime while it’s crawling with police officers.’
    ‘Ah, but the dog does return to its own vomit,’ she said, pointing at him with a pen.
    ‘Let me assure you, none of that vomit was mine. In fact, I was looking for mine just before I locked myself out, but my subsequent discoveries have cast doubt on whether there was anything to find.’

    ‘What?’
    ‘Don’t ask. So what do you figure to the late Dr P?’
    ‘Back off, scoop. I’m hardly going to reveal the facts of an on-going investigation to a self-confessed hack. Given what’s already happened today,