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Logan McRae #7.5
Stramash
Short story about detectives, Steel and Macrae. Published in Partners in Crime with one other short story and also in 22 Dead Little Bodies with the same short story and with two novellas. Follows Shatter The Bones.
Kindle Edition
First published November 12, 2012
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About the author
Stuart MacBride
88 books2,740 followersAka Stuart B. MacBride
The life and times of a bearded write-ist.
Stuart MacBride (that's me) was born in Dumbarton -- which is Glasgow as far as I'm concerned -- moving up to Aberdeen at the tender age of two, when fashions were questionable. Nothing much happened for years and years and years: learned to play the recorder, then forgot how when they changed from little coloured dots to proper musical notes (why the hell couldn't they have taught us the notes in the first bloody place? I could have been performing my earth-shattering rendition of 'Three Blind Mice' at the Albert Hall by now!); appeared in some bizarre World War Two musical production; did my best to avoid eating haggis and generally ran about the place a lot.
Next up was an elongated spell in Westhill -- a small suburb seven miles west of Aberdeen -- where I embarked upon a mediocre academic career, hindered by a complete inability to spell and an attention span the length of a gnat's doodad.
And so to UNIVERSITY, far too young, naive and stupid to be away from the family home, sharing a subterranean flat in one of the seedier bits of Edinburgh with a mad Irishman, and four other bizarre individuals. The highlight of walking to the art school in the mornings (yes: we were students, but we still did mornings) was trying not to tread in the fresh bloodstains outside our front door, and dodging the undercover CID officers trying to buy drugs. Lovely place.
But university and I did not see eye to eye, so off I went to work offshore. Like many all-male environments, working offshore was the intellectual equivalent of Animal House, only without the clever bits. Swearing, smoking, eating, more swearing, pornography, swearing, drinking endless plastic cups of tea... and did I mention the swearing? But it was more money than I'd seen in my life! There's something about being handed a wadge of cash as you clamber off the minibus from the heliport, having spent the last two weeks offshore and the last two hours in an orange, rubber romper suit / body bag, then blowing most of it in the pubs and clubs of Aberdeen. And being young enough to get away without a hangover.
Then came a spell of working for myself as a graphic designer, which went the way of all flesh and into the heady world of studio management for a nation-wide marketing company. Then some more freelance design work, a handful of voiceovers for local radio and video production companies and a bash at being an actor (with a small 'a'), giving it up when it became clear there was no way I was ever going to be good enough to earn a decent living.
It was about this time I fell into bad company -- a blonde from Fife who conned me into marrying her -- and started producing websites for a friend's fledgling Internet company. From there it was a roller coaster ride (in that it made a lot of people feel decidedly unwell) from web designer to web manager, lead programmer, team lead and other assorted technical bollocks with three different companies, eventually ending up as a project manager for a global IT company.
But there was always the writing (well, that's not true, the writing only started two chapters above this one). I fell victim to that most dreadful of things: peer pressure. Two friends were writing novels and I thought, 'why not? I could do that'.
Took a few years though...
The life and times of a bearded write-ist.
Stuart MacBride (that's me) was born in Dumbarton -- which is Glasgow as far as I'm concerned -- moving up to Aberdeen at the tender age of two, when fashions were questionable. Nothing much happened for years and years and years: learned to play the recorder, then forgot how when they changed from little coloured dots to proper musical notes (why the hell couldn't they have taught us the notes in the first bloody place? I could have been performing my earth-shattering rendition of 'Three Blind Mice' at the Albert Hall by now!); appeared in some bizarre World War Two musical production; did my best to avoid eating haggis and generally ran about the place a lot.
Next up was an elongated spell in Westhill -- a small suburb seven miles west of Aberdeen -- where I embarked upon a mediocre academic career, hindered by a complete inability to spell and an attention span the length of a gnat's doodad.
And so to UNIVERSITY, far too young, naive and stupid to be away from the family home, sharing a subterranean flat in one of the seedier bits of Edinburgh with a mad Irishman, and four other bizarre individuals. The highlight of walking to the art school in the mornings (yes: we were students, but we still did mornings) was trying not to tread in the fresh bloodstains outside our front door, and dodging the undercover CID officers trying to buy drugs. Lovely place.
But university and I did not see eye to eye, so off I went to work offshore. Like many all-male environments, working offshore was the intellectual equivalent of Animal House, only without the clever bits. Swearing, smoking, eating, more swearing, pornography, swearing, drinking endless plastic cups of tea... and did I mention the swearing? But it was more money than I'd seen in my life! There's something about being handed a wadge of cash as you clamber off the minibus from the heliport, having spent the last two weeks offshore and the last two hours in an orange, rubber romper suit / body bag, then blowing most of it in the pubs and clubs of Aberdeen. And being young enough to get away without a hangover.
Then came a spell of working for myself as a graphic designer, which went the way of all flesh and into the heady world of studio management for a nation-wide marketing company. Then some more freelance design work, a handful of voiceovers for local radio and video production companies and a bash at being an actor (with a small 'a'), giving it up when it became clear there was no way I was ever going to be good enough to earn a decent living.
It was about this time I fell into bad company -- a blonde from Fife who conned me into marrying her -- and started producing websites for a friend's fledgling Internet company. From there it was a roller coaster ride (in that it made a lot of people feel decidedly unwell) from web designer to web manager, lead programmer, team lead and other assorted technical bollocks with three different companies, eventually ending up as a project manager for a global IT company.
But there was always the writing (well, that's not true, the writing only started two chapters above this one). I fell victim to that most dreadful of things: peer pressure. Two friends were writing novels and I thought, 'why not? I could do that'.
Took a few years though...
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
December 20, 2025
Funny and entertaining as always. A short story from MacBride that precedes Close to the Bone (already queued in my kindle).
October 28, 2022
Short story (about a chapter's worth). I'm happy to have read it but it doesn't add or detract from the main Logan McRae series. Meh.
November 17, 2018
Often, I find short stories to be a case of hit or miss. I’m even more tentative when it comes to any series I consider to be one of my favourites. Such stories can add so much more to the overall series, or they can be a handful of pages that add nothing much at all.
With Stramash we have a highly entertaining read. It wasn’t quite as amusing as some of Stuart MacBride’s work, but it did earn plenty of giggles from me. It was an extremely quick read, but it was substantial enough to give us plenty of amusement in the form of both Steel and McRae.
More than worth reading for those who want all the fun of the series.
With Stramash we have a highly entertaining read. It wasn’t quite as amusing as some of Stuart MacBride’s work, but it did earn plenty of giggles from me. It was an extremely quick read, but it was substantial enough to give us plenty of amusement in the form of both Steel and McRae.
More than worth reading for those who want all the fun of the series.
December 15, 2020
This short story has DI Roberta Steel urgently summoning DS Logan McRae to the Isle of Jura, where Steel's wife is at "some sort of team-building thing". It has become apparent to her that all the local drug syndicates are converging on the island - something is definitely up!
March 9, 2025
Another fun little short story with Logan and Roberta! Their relationship always makes me smile.
November 13, 2018
This was a fun, short read with DI Steel calling on Macrae to help her when she stumbles on an unusual gathering on the small island of Jura. They both get a lot more than they bargained for and DI Steel fails to keep her detecting away from her wife who thinks she should be on holiday.
February 20, 2021
Not my favourite DI Steel. But well written and with some funny bits.
March 28, 2022
Another fun little story, but nothing too special.
July 23, 2023
I do so love it when Logan and Roberta are working together.
Read
March 12, 2024Read as part of partners in crime
November 28, 2025
A short fun look at Logan and Steele. The series is great and so is this.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews