Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.
Yeah - whatever - that's totally useless - so's that - blah blah - what the hell is that meant to be? - I couldn't care less - that's boring...
For the last goddamn hour, I've pulled up everything we've got on the Waters case. And drawn a blank. Nill. Nullo.
Well, that's usefull.
But, between you and me, it's better than interviewing the agoraphobic old bag who, if Alannah is to be believed, spent the whole time hiding behind the sofa.
Huh. I hope it was a big goddamn sofa.
Jesus, our filing system sucks! We've got nothing on anyone apart from Crazy Bill who went around with an axe for a week terrorizing the local wildlife before drowning in his own goddamn bathtub.
So here I am in solitary confinement, searching through heaps and heaps of stuff about axe murderers and bathtubs and nothing remotely useful.
God. Give me a car chase any day.
My phone's ringing. Where the hell is it?
After scrabbling around for a bit, I find it under heaps of paper. Oh, Jesus. It's my old brother again. Rob.
'What're you in trouble for this time?' I say, putting the phone to my ear.
'Then why the hell are you phoning me? It's my goddamn work hours.'
'Y'know 'ow it is, Cissy.'
'Shut up,' I growl. That's the last thing I need David to hear. Or any of the others. Or just anyone in the whole entire universe.
'It's just I've got summat I fought yer might be in'res'ed in. Y'know those guys, the ones I was talkin' about a while back?'
This has got me interested. It's Exredge - it's got to be. The ones who blew a hole through David?
'What about them?'
'Well, just that one o' me mates, y'know, Skinner, the one who got stoned that time? Well, yeah, him. Anyways, he's been offered a job.'
'Yeh, I fought it was a bit off. He's goin' fer an interview this Tuesday. Yer might wanna follow 'im, or summat, see what's up.'
'Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks, Rob.'
I smile as I hang up. Now I've finally got something to go on.