“Drama?” Oberon raised an eyebrow as he looked from Logan to Sinead and back again. “What drama? I wasn’t aware of any drama.”
“A body was found about fifteen miles from here.”
“Oh! Oh, no, I hadn’t heard a thing. Oh, how dreadful,” the MSP said. He lowered himself onto the edge of his desk, like the news had robbed his legs of their strength. “How utterly dreadful. Local? I mean, tragic either way, obvs, but… Was it somebody local?”
Logan tried not to get too hung up on the ‘obvs’ and just answered the question.
“Aye. Someone who we believe you know,” Logan said. He watched closely for the other man’s reaction. But then, he’d been studying Oberon since they’d first set foot in the room.
“Oh no. Who?”
“We believe he was known locally as Bernie the Beacon.”
“Oh, that’s terrible. Terrible,” Oberon said, not skipping a beat. “Oh, such a shame. Bernie. Poor Bernie. He was a real local character.”
“Aye, we’ve been getting that impression,” Logan confirmed.
“Oh, that is awful. That poor man,” Oberon said, and he wiped the corner of his eye with the back of his hand. It was one of the most transparently fake pretences at grief that Logan had ever had the misfortune to witness. “What happened? Can I ask?”
“We’re still waiting on the results of the post-mortem,” Logan said. “But it looks like he was burned to death.”
“Burned? Good gracious. Oh, that’s horrible. Not a nice way to go, I’d imagine,” Oberon said, then a frown troubled his brow. “Wait, was burned? You mean…”
“We believe there’s a possibility that Bernie was murdered, yes.”
“Murdered?” Oberon practically shrieked. He stood, head up and shoulders back. “No. No, no. Not round here. That sort of thing simply doesn’t happen. You must be mistaken.”
“It’s possible that it was an accident. We’re not ruling anything out at this stage.”
“Aha! There we are, then. It’ll be an accident. Has to be. No less tragic, of course. Still a terrible loss for…” Oberon’s eyebrows dipped. “Did he have a family? Bernie, I mean? I’m not familiar with his background.”
Logan chose to ignore the question to pursue his own. “He seemed pretty familiar with yours. Were you aware that Bernie was spying on you?”
“Spying? Bernie? On me?” Oberon asked, each word higher in pitch than the one before it. He gave a laugh that was as false as his grief had been. “Why would he be spying on me? He wasn't freelancing for Private Eye was he?”
Logan shook his head. “No,” he said. “Pretty sure, they only cover well-known politicians in that, don’t they? I don’t imagine they’ll be troubling you anytime soon.”
“Ha!” Oberon pointed at the detective. “Quite the satirist yourself, I see. I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”
Logan’s gaze went to the extended finger and lingered there until the digit was retracted. “Funny,” he said. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“What was your relationship with Bernie?” Sinead asked.
“Relationship? I didn’t have a relationship. He was just some tra… He was just a homeless.”
“‘A homeless’？ A homeless what?” Logan asked. “You can’t just say ‘a homeless.’”
“Man. A homeless man, I meant,” Oberon said. He was still smiling, but it was clear from the rest of his face that he was finding Logan less amusing by the moment.
“And?” Logan pressed. “You can still have a relationship with a homeless man.”
The smile died away completely. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I like what you’re implying.”
“What am I implying?” Logan asked.
“That I was having some sort of gay relationship with Bernie.”
Had ‘synchronised shock’ been an Olympic event, the looks on Logan and Sinead’s faces would have bagged them the gold. Logan half-turned to the DC beside him.
“I wasn’t implying that. Were you implying that, Detective Constable?”
“I wasn’t implying that, sir,” Sinead replied. “I just meant were they friends, enemies, casual acquaintances? That sort of thing.”
“That’s how I took it, aye,” Logan said. “I didn’t read anything into that about them being gay lovers.”