Cold Granite (Logan McRae, #1)

by Stuart MacBride

‘Won’t stop raining till March?’ Insch popped a fruit sherbet into his mouth. ‘March? Don’t lie to the poor constable: this is Aberdeen.’ He sighed and stuck his hands back in his pockets. ‘It never stops fuckin’ raining.’ They stood in silence,

And no kneecaps. Both hairy legs had ragged holes in them where a normal person would keep their knees.

Figures jumped and jerked across the screen, the camera only taking one frame every three or four seconds, making everything look like experimental Canadian animation.

Her hair looked like a chimpanzee had slept in it.