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we head to Fettes."
    "Understood," said Cullen.  
    Cullen had worked for Bain for close to a year now and knew that he hated few things as much as being delayed going to the pub. The Burns Supper was an annual Lothian and Borders do that DCI Turnbull press-ganged his staff into attending. This year Turnbull himself was to address the haggis so he wanted as many of his officers pitching up as possible. They were having it two days before Burns' Night itself, because half of the service would be busy on Wednesday sorting out punters that had drunk too much whisky after the standard Scottish post-Hogmanay abstinence, the pisshead's Lent as Cullen saw it. The only thing about it that Cullen was looking forward to was that Sharon would be there - that said, he would much rather be spending the time with her alone.
    "What about me?" asked Irvine.
    "I want you supervising here," said Bain. "There are some cottages round the corner. At some point, somebody's brought Mandy here - dead or alive - and somebody must have fuckin' seen whoever did it. Batman and Robin here went to see this dog walker - I want her checked out further and I want visits to the other cottages. One of the neighbours goes round the ponds with a dog every day, I want them spoken to. Also, that pain in the arse gatehouse at the end of the path, I want to know where the owners are. Sundance got a story that they're on holiday - I want that confirmed by at least two others."
    "Fine," said Irvine. "I'll need some resource."
    "You can have McLaren," said Bain. Cullen noticed Lamb's eyes burn into the side of Bain's head.
    "Won't be enough," said Irvine, chomping away.
    "Right, come on, then," said Bain, letting out a sigh. "I'll get you some uniform." He led them off towards the largest concentration of idle officers looking for direction.
    Lamb was smiling and shaking his head at the retreating figures. "He's quite something, isn't he?" said Lamb.
    Cullen grinned. "The stories I could tell about him," he said. "I see you've already had your first encounter."
    Lamb smiled. "He's a typical city cop," he said. "He's come out here, swinging his dick around. He'll come unstuck if he doesn't watch."
    Cullen wanted to see that happen. "You been based out here long?" he asked.
    "Eight years," said Lamb. "Five as DS. I was in Edinburgh before that."
    "I was out in Livingston for six years so I kind of know where you're coming from."
    Lamb stroked his moustache down. "Don't get me wrong, Cullen," he said, "this isn't the Wild West like you're used to. It's very different. A case like this, it's fine having an Edinburgh DI come in but Bain needs all the local co-operation he can get."
    "Do you know the Gibson family then?" asked Cullen.
    Lamb smiled again. "You know, you're the first to ask me that." He rubbed his moustache again, stroking the triangle of beard downwards. "Charles and Elaine Gibson are pillars of the community in Garleton. Well-connected, well-off. He runs the Alba Bank branch in town. Two kids, big house, nice cars." He caught himself. "Had two kids."
    "Do you mind us going to see them?" asked Cullen. "What with us being big city cops."
    "As long as you don't swing your dicks around," said Lamb, his face creasing into a wide smile.
    "I don't have one," said Caldwell, "though it feels like I need one working for Bain."
    They laughed for a few moments.
    "One last thing, though, Cullen," said Lamb, smoothing down his moustache, his face suddenly stern. "There's something you should know about Mandy."
    "What's that?"
    "She was mentally handicapped."

three

    Cullen drove them up the Berwick Road, the main road from North Berwick into Garleton. His car struggled up the steep incline. It was six and two threes to Cullen whether they came that way, through Athelstaneford, or through Drem and its train station, though Caldwell had insisted this was quicker.  
    They passed the glass and concrete High School, painted the orange that was so common in the older buildings