Face in the Frame Read Free

familiar grimy, bearded face he found a hoodie wrapped in a blue sleeping bag.
    “Where’s Fred?” demanded Brodie.
    The hood shifted and a pair of hazy grey eyes blinked up at him. “What?”
    “Oh, hi Robbie. Where’s Fred?” he said impatiently.
    “Who?” he replied in a whiny, dazed voice.
    “The man who’s usually sat here - bushy white beard, talks about Elvis and Nessie a lot. This has been his patch for years.”
    “I dinnae ken who you mean.” Robbie’s eyes settled on the doughnut. “You gonnae eat that?”
    “Was anyone here when you got here?” pressed Brodie, waving the doughnut before him like an inducement.
    “Nah, it was empty. Gimme the doughnut Brodie, I’m fuckin’ starving here.”
    With an irritated sigh Brodie tossed the doughnut into his dirty lap along with a five pound note, put one of the coffees down at his feet and headed inside the office. Raised voices from above caused him to take the stairs two at a time.
    He burst into his office to find Cass arguing with a brick shithouse sporting a shaved head and a seriously pissed off look.
    “Where’s my fucking wife?” boomed the man, trying to intimidate Cass with his size and voice. He didn’t know Cass.
    “I suggest you leave right now,” was all she replied, body wound up tight, ready to defend herself should it become necessary which - judging by the redness of the man mountain’s face - was entirely possible.
    “Hey you, do one,” said Brodie.
    The red-faced man turned on him, face set in an angry snarl. “Are you the fucking wank who took my wife and kids from me?”
    “I didn’t take them. They left because you are a controlling, abusive shitebag.”
    “You bastard. I’m going to rip your fucking scrotum off.”
    His charge was halted before it had even begun when Cass kicked him in the back of the knee. His red face looked comically startled before he toppled on top of her desk, which rocked alarmingly.
    “That’s you out of here pal,” said Brodie, twisting his right arm up his back and dragging him upright. “Do you want to walk down the stairs or shall I arrange for you to fly?”
    “Aargh, you’re hurting me,” grimaced the man as Brodie twisted his arm to breaking point.
    “I know. Want me to snap it like you did to your six year old daughter you fucking scumbag.”
    Cass watched impassively as Brodie hauled the man upright and marched him out the door. A couple of minutes later he stomped back up the stairs, scowling.
    “Arsehole,” muttered Brodie. “Did he hurt you?”
    “Not me,” replied Cass. “But my desk doesn’t look too happy.”
    He looked to the desk, which sagged in the middle as the two rear legs had buckled. “We’ll get you a new one.”
    “About time, that thing was ancient.”
    “You can’t buy quality like that anymore.”
    “Oh yeah, it looks a real class act,” she said sarcastically, drawing from him a reluctant smile, his mind already leaving the wife beater. “You look troubled Bossman. Don’t let that pillock get you down.”
    “It’s not that prick. Fred’s gone.”
    “Fred as in the homeless conspiracy theorist?”
    “Aye. Someone else was on his patch and Fred never allows that so he must have been gone a while. Maybe the devil did come for him?”
    “Before you start letting your imagination runaway with you why don’t you check that he isn’t in the hospital or been nicked?”
    Instantly he cheered. “Good thinking.”
    “There’s something else. Doctor Sandler from Lauren Creegan’s hospital called again. She really thinks it would help Lauren if you would visit her.”
    Brodie sighed wearily. The Creegan case had been the first serial killer his investigative practice had tackled and they’d been successful. Sarah and Seth Creegan were serving life behind bars for torturing and killing several women. Lauren was Seth’s younger sister and she’d been sectioned for burning her mother to death after she’d been complicit in Seth’s