“Good boy,” Logan said.
He stood and stared off in the direction of the house, pointedly ignoring the dog. It got up, looked around for a while like it wasn’t quite sure what was going on, then it sat at his feet and—gently—accepted another treat.
“You can come out now, Tyler,” he said.
Still wedged half inside the car, Dinny the Drink-Driving Squirrel shook his head. “Nah, boss. It’s a trick.”
“What do you mean?” Logan asked.
“It’s lulling me into a false sense of security. It’ll have my leg off if I make a move. Best if I wait here.”
“Except I need you to ID this Ally Bally character if he’s here,” Logan reminded him. “So, come on. Out. It’s not going to hurt you.”
Tyler’s groaning echoed around inside the headpiece of the costume.
“Right. OK. Fine. I’m coming out,” he announced.
He started to wriggle backwards out of the car.
The dog growled, showing its teeth.
Tyler stopped moving again.
“See? It hates me.”
“Maybe if you weren’t dressed as a giant bloody rodent he’d be less wary of you. Anyway, pretty much everyone hates you to begin with, son,” Logan told him. “But, that’ll all change once he gets to know you, and—just like the rest of us—he’ll come to begrudgingly tolerate your existence. Now, come on, out of the car before your man in there does a runner.”
Tyler groaned and pushed the head of the costume off, revealing a face that was bright red and slicked with sweat. “I get compensation from work if this thing attacks me, don’t I?”
“Aye,” Logan confirmed. He shrugged. “Or Sinead will. It really depends on the severity of the attack.”
“You’re not helping, boss!” Tyler wailed. Then, with a deep breath, he pushed himself backwards out of the SUV.
Down on the ground, the dog rose onto all four legs, its head lowering and hackles rising.
“Sit!” Logan boomed, and Tyler’s legs gave out from under him, plonking him onto the ground. “No’ you, for fu… The dog, Tyler. I meant the dog.”
Tyler’s cheeks reddened. “Eh. Aye. I knew that, boss,” he replied. Then, trying to salvage some tiny shred of dignity, he dragged himself to his feet using one of the car’s door handles, and dusted himself down.
He stared at the dog.
The dog stared at him.
“Don’t show it you’re scared,” Logan said.
“How’m I meant to do that?!”
“Well, maybe stop crying for one thing,” Logan suggested. “And don’t stand there covering your crotch like someone’s about to take a free kick.”
“I’m not crying, boss. It’s the wind. I wasn’t expecting the wind. It’s made my eyes water,” Tyler insisted.
He cautiously removed his cartoonishly oversized hands from where they’d been cupping his groin, but kept them close by in case the dog should make its move. It seemed content just to growl suspiciously at him for the moment, though, and when Logan fed it another treat it quickly lost interest in him altogether.
“See? It’s just a dog. Nothing to worry about,” Logan said. “Do you want to pat it?”
“Do I fuck!” Tyler ejected. “I mean… No thanks, boss. I’ll pass.”
“Right. Fair enough,” Logan grunted. He turned in the direction of the house, and the dog turned with him. “Now, let’s go see if any bugger’s at home.”
“Do you, eh, do you want to help me out of this outfit first?” Tyler asked, indicating the zip at the back.
Logan sucked in his bottom lip, spat it out, then shook his head. “No,” he said. “No’ really.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There wasn’t enough table space in the Strontian station for Sinead’s current needs, so she sat cross-legged on the floor, ten piles of paper spread out in a semi-circle in front of her, all within stretching reach.
After his bumper lunch and the subsequent walk, Taggart had found a corner of the room to lie down in, and was now snoring softly, his legs occasionally twitching as he dreamed some doggy dream.
Splitting the newsletters up into years had seemed like a decent method of breaking the daunting mass of paper into more manageable bite-sized chunks. Doing so also came with the unexpected side effect of giving her an insight into Bernie’s production schedules over the years.
He’d started slowly—two issues in the first year, each just a single sheet of A4, printed on one side.