Blue Vengenance: A Logan Thorne DCI Scottish Detective Thriller

by Duncan Wallace

  “Not here,” I replied. “Let’s go up to the roof.”

  I entered the stairwell again with Harding in tow and shut out the noises of the CID department. We walked up the final flight of stairs to a dented door, half prised from its hinges, and a mess of takeaway cartons that leaked ketchup onto the floor.

  “Can you get through this door?” Harding asked.

  I wasn’t surprised she didn’t know of the roof. I rarely bumped into another person during the few times I’d been up there, and on the few occasions that I had, we’d stood at the far ends of the building and ignored each other. Many of those who came up here were smokers, but I used it just to enjoy fresh air on my face and to concentrate on a case. I suspected very few people were aware of the roof’s entrance.

  “There are lots of secrets in this station, Maddy,” I replied mysteriously.

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “You have to earn the secrets first,” I said. “One day, you’ll understand.”

  Harding rolled her eyes.

  “Okay, Gandalf,” my partner asked. “What exactly are we doing up here?”

  “I wanted to be away from any nosey cops,” I replied. “There aren’t any prying ears up here.”

  I kicked the door with my boot and it swung open easily. I looked back at my partner, and I raised an eyebrow.

  “Impressed?” I asked her.

  “Hardly,” she scoffed. “It looks like someone already did the hard work for you.”

  “You’ll never find a relationship with that attitude, Harding,” I teased.

  “I’ll be like you, sir, and be married to the job,” she said as she pulled a face.

  We walked out onto the flat gravel-covered roof and found a spot by the front of the building. On the streets below, I could hear the telltale noises of the local cafe closing down, as bins were emptied down the alleyway, and glass bottles smashed together.

  Back when the station had money, there were half-hearted plans to develop the roof into a terrace for all the officers. It was a stupid idea to begin with, partly because the weather was always too terrible for al-fresco Friday night drinks, but also because, predictably, the money had dried up a month into the construction. There was still a litter of rusting tools left behind by bored builders, and the skeleton of a half-built cabana.

  I drank in the scenery. The Edinburgh skyline was laid before us like a painting. I guessed it was early evening by then, because the dazzling lights of St Giles’ cathedral hadn’t turned on.

  “Wow,” Harding remarked, “nice view. It’s a beautiful city, isn’t it?”

  I did agree, but less so in those days. When I saw the winding, cobbled streets, it often just reminded me of the twisting criminal thoughts I sought out. To me, the city was more a state of mind, and I couldn’t escape it. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.

  I turned and looked at the brunette, and I noticed how lovely she looked in the dusky half light, her face tinged a luminous orange.

  “Oh. I almost forgot,” she said as she walked towards me. “I know it was a ruse back there, but I did actually buy you this.”

  She removed a sandwich from her bag, and I took it gratefully.

  “You are a star,” I said and heard my stomach grumble in anticipation.

  “It’s your favourite filling, too,” Harding replied with a smile. “The cafe was sold out, so I had to practically threaten the manager with arrest so he’d make a fresh one.”

  I looked down at the label. BBQ chicken.

  “It is my favourite,” I said with surprise.

  Harding snorted in exasperation.

  “You know that it’s literally my job to notice things about people,” she said.

  I ignored her, unwrapped the plastic, and took a bite of deliciously smoked chicken and tangy sauce. In the chaos of today, I’d completely forgotten how hungry I was, and I had to force myself not to finish the sandwich in three large, greedy bites. Harding waited patiently as I ate half the sandwich before she turned her investigative techniques on me.

  “So, tell me,” she said. “Why do you look simultaneously angry and scared? And why did we need a secret meeting on the roof like spies?”

  Oh, right. The last piece of information I’d shared with my partner was that Brown had been murdered. I hadn’t wanted her in the autopsy, and so she was three steps behind me. I frowned at my tendency to always assume everyone was on my wavelength. It usually got me into trouble as I was often visibly frustrated with those who hadn’t caught up to my thinking, and I again wondered what the ACC was up to.

  I ran my tongue across my teeth searching for errant pieces of lettuce before I spoke again. Harding shot me a glance like she knew I was stalling for time, and I cast a look of longing at the remaining half of the BBQ chicken.

  “Dr Liu suspects Brown was killed with poison,” I finally said. “They think it’s cyanide, but I’m not sure how it was administered yet.”

  Harding gasped as I had known she would. Despite what Clarke warned, there was no way I’d keep this information from my partner. In order for us to be an efficiently working team, I needed us to share knowledge, and I wanted a reliable sounding-board to bounce my theories from. I trusted Harding, too. I knew in my gut that she’d never betray my confidence.

  I watched the responses flash across Maddy’s face, horror, sympathy, anger. Then she settled on calm and pulled herself together, ever the professional.

  “Cyanide? But often that doesn’t even show in--” The british brunette began to say.

  “In toxicology reports,” I cut in. “Yes, you’re right. Dr Liu said it was lucky Brown was examined so quickly.”

  “Thanks to you,” she pointed out. “Has anyone actually thanked you yet?”

  I waved away the suggestion and took another bite of my sandwich.

  “If you’re looking for appreciation you’re in the wrong career,” I said. It was true, but anyway, I didn’t need the validation of colleagues to catch criminals and help victims find justice. Although a pay raise would be nice.

  “How long until they can confirm it’s cyanide?” Harding asked.

  “Ahh, I’m not sure. I didn’t actually wait around to find out,” I admitted.

  “You didn’t?” Harding blinked. “What could have been more important?”

  I paused for a minute and listened to the wind which had picked up again, and errant crisp packets flew around our feet. I looked at the door leading back into the station. It was propped open just as I’d left it. We were in the safest place possible to have this conversation.

  I explained to Harding about the message found tucked into the back of Brown’s throat, what that message said, and what I believed it meant.

  “And even with all of that, Clarke still refuses to take my advice and make the information public,” I sighed. “No, I don’t even want it public, I just want to warn our own people. She’s playing with fire!”

  I watched Harding stare into the sky. I’d unloaded a lot of information for her to process.

  “Yes,” she said as she watched a plane fly into a thick cloud, “you’re right, people should know.”

  “Thank you,” I said, pleased that someone agreed with me. “And you agree that the note clearly targets police?”

  Harding shrugged.

  “Well, of course, I do,” She said. “Even if the note wasn’t as clear as it was, you’re usually right about these things. Remember the little girl everyone thought had been kidnapped, and you were convinced she’d run away to the camping spot her divorced parents used to take her? You were right about that.”

  I did remember. I remembered the mud and goosebumps on the little girl’s skin, and most of all, her face as she was scooped up into her parents’ arms. That had been one of the better days at work. My cases didn’t always end so cheerfully, with a child taken home to her parents.

  I was so glad that I’d ignored Clarke’s warning and told Harding what had been discovered. I was glad for her sharp
intelligence and deduction, and that she trusted me above all.

  “There’s no chance that this note is a sick joke, is there?” the brunette asked. “Could it be the fault of some twisted guy who just wants to play around and scare us? Perhaps someone jumped Brown’s car, killed him, realised who he’d murdered, and wanted to turn our attention to a false conclusion?”

  I looked at her in surprise, and if I’m honest, a little disdain, too. But then I remembered that Harding might just be nervously clutching at straws, in an attempt not to believe we could be ID’ing dead cops. I didn’t relish the thought, either, but she needed to understand the severity of the case.

  “If it was a joke, and someone wanted to cover up an impulsive kill,” I replied, “why was Brown poisoned, dumped at his wife’s grave, and then setup to look like a suicide? To me, that points to very serious intentions of a clever and organised killer.”

  “You're right,” she said and blushed. “I just had to ask.”

  “Going back to our discussion, don’t you think that the officers should be made aware?” I asked, although I expected Harding to agree with me.

  But instead, her eyes widened, and she shook her head.

  “What!” She exclaimed and then touched her flushed neck. “Absolutely not. We can’t do that.”

  I frowned, stunned by the sudden change.

  “But you just agreed that it’s not right to keep a secret,” I said, confused.

  “I know,” she replied. “And I do think that. But more than that, I know it’s not our call.”

  “You’re such a box-ticker,” I groaned. “Just like Clarke is.”

  “Yes,” Harding said, and smiled winningly. “And now she’s the Chief Constable. She must know what she’s doing.”

  I turned as the Cathedral bells rang, and I felt the sound shudder under my feet.

  “She hasn’t been confirmed yet,” I warned.

  “But she will be, so we can’t go against her orders.” My partner looked beseechingly at me. “And maybe Clarke is right and the news would cause mass panic. What if our officers left their posts? Crimes are still happening, and will happen, even during this case.”

  I reluctantly conceded that she had a point, but I didn’t admit that out loud.

  “So, what do we do now? Where do we start?” Harding asked.

  “We do what we always do.” I replied a moment later. “We solve the case.”

  Harding closed her eyes and nodded. A brief burst of wind sent the empty crisp bags around the rooftop again and happy laughter floated up from the street below.

  I wanted to warn her that this case would be harder and tougher than anything we’d been on before because it had become personal. But I needed her spirits up, and her mind sharp. I wondered if that made me any different from Clarke, who was trying to protect her inferiors with ignorance. No, I decided, it was different because I’d trusted Harding to deal with her feelings, and she was smart enough to see how messy this case would become.

  “Did you know that Edinburgh Castle sits on a once-active volcano?” I asked my partner as I waited for the cinder-red lights to come on.

  She rolled her eyes again, and not for the first time I was glad I didn’t have a teenage daughter.

  “You know,” she began, “I have actually been in the city for a while now.”

  “But still,” I pressed. “I didn’t know if you were up on the local history.”

  “I am, sir,” the brunette assured me. “You don’t need to waste your time worrying about my knowledge of the local area. It’s as good as any nonlocals’ could be.”

  I picked up on her double meaning that I was a foreigner, too.

  “But I’m actually from here,” I insisted.

  “But not here, here,” the Brit teased. “You’re really just like me.”

  “God help me,” I replied.

  “You should be so lucky,” she laughed.

  We fell silent again for a minute, and my face felt like ice in the cold wind. The Castle lights switched on and lit the sky above.

  My mind was already buzzing with next steps to follow, people to talk to, and evidence to chase up. I’d start with searching through Brown’s recent correspondence. I’d need Harding to access his hard drive.

  “So?” I asked her as we walked towards the exit. “Shall we begin?”

  Then I felt my phone vibrate inside my pocket, and a moment later, Harding’s phone rang, too, playing that annoying song I heard on the radio all the time. Our eyes met apprehensively.

  As we climbed from the roof, Harding stumbled as she tried to navigate the uneven floor and answer her phone at the same time. I caught her before she tripped and held her warm hand for a moment. She shot me a grateful glance.

  I looked at my vibrating phone and saw that Clarke was calling. I grumbled, thinking that she was going to confront my lying, or accuse me of plotting against her wishes. I picked up.

  “Where are you?” Clarke asked immediately.

  “Erm,” I glanced at the damp walls of the top floor stairwell. I couldn’t exactly tell the truth without explaining why I was there.

  “Bathroom,” I finally replied.

  “You were right,” my boss sighed.

  I immediately understood what she was referring to, and my heart sank in despair.

  “What’s happened?” I asked as I glanced at my partner.

  “Another officer has been found dead,” Clarke replied.

  Like the old active volcano under the Castle, a hundred thoughts erupted in my mind. But first, I wanted to shout at my boss. I wanted her to admit this death was her fault, and that she should have listened to me. I hung up instead, because I didn’t trust myself to speak without anger flooding into my voice.

  My partner and I ran down the metal stairs and into CID as I waited for Harding to retrieve her coat and badge from her desk. She sliced stealthily back through the crowds of officers, and I thought we’d escaped notice, until a DS caught my eye.

  “Where have you two been?” he called over the rowdy commotion of The Pit.

  “Message me the location of the body!” Harding called over the din rather than answer the man’s question.

  We ran back to the stairwell and started down the rickety steps.

  “Who called you about the death?” I asked.

  “A friend from tech,” she replied. “His name is Ross.”

  “How did he find out?” I pressed. “Security footage?”

  “No,” the brunette replied. “He found the body. He knows you and I work together.”

  “Do you know when the officer was killed?” I asked as I tried to piece together a timeline.

  “Must have been in the last hour,” Harding replied. “Ross said he’d been there only an hour before, and there was nothing then.”

  “There?” I asked “Where’s there?”

  “Not sure yet, he hung up because two officers approached him,” she said. “Can’t be far, though, because I know Ross was sitting an exam close to here.”

  We reached the second floor and dodged around an officer taking a smoke break. The man watched our scramble down the stairs with mild interest, and I wondered if he would still be so casual if he knew that a second policeman was dead.

  “And why was he in this place twice in one hour?” I asked once we were past the officer.

  “He’s a nervous smoker,” she responded.

  “Was Ross able to identify the body?” I asked in a low voice.

  “He only checked the pulse to confirm death, and then because the body was in uniform he called it in straight away,” she said. “He didn’t want to further contaminate the scene.”

  “Maybe.” I muttered.

  “You don’t believe him?” My partner asked.

  “Don’t you remember the ABC of crime scenes?” I replied. “Assume nothing. Believe nobody. Check everything.”

  We approached the ground floor, and Harding reached for the door handle first. I stood to the side and gla
nced through the small pane of glass that gave a view of the lobby. I spotted Robert Crinkle by the front desk, locked in a conversation with the sobbing receptionist.

  “Oh, shit,” I murmured and stretched out an arm to block Harding.

  I saw her scan the foyer, and then she groaned on recognising Crinkle.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” she asked.

  “No idea,” I replied. “Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

  Harding rolled her eyes at my suggestion, and I knew she was probably right. Crinkle could only be bothered to leave his desk for a solid lead. But there was also no way Crinkle could have heard about the body before we had. Perhaps he’d been tipped off about the nature of Brown’s death, then.

  “Maybe he heard about Brown,” she suggested, and I nodded in agreement.

  “I don’t want him to see us,” I said. “He’ll follow us to the new crime scene, and it won’t take him long to piece it together.”

  I looked around for an alternative way out and spotted the fire exit.

  “Come on,” I whispered as I tugged my partner towards the sign.

  “Won’t that set off the alarm?” she asked.

  “Naw,” I assured her. “Smokers use this all the time.”

  I pushed the heavy door open, and despite the warning sign, no alarms sounded. We ran into the car park and passed a cook from the canteen, who jumped at our presence and dropped her cigarette. I saw Harding check her phone as we sprinted by a line of cars and a dumpster that smelled like sour milk.

  “Any updates?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” she replied.

  We skidded to a halt on either side of my car, and I unlocked the doors with the fob. We both yanked the doors open and dropped into our seats, and I switched the ignition on before I closed the door. I reached for the sirens as Harding’s phone buzzed again, and a moment later, she placed a hand on my wrist and shook her head. I turned the siren off and looked at my partner.

  “We don’t need to drive to the location of the body,” she said.

  “So where is it?” I asked.

  “It’s there,” the slender brunette replied as she pointed to the alleyway next to the station.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  Then I heard the gentle tap of rain, which quickly fell faster and splashed on the windows in fat drops. I cursed. I’d seen a lot of potential evidence destroyed by rain before, and I hoped someone had at least radioed for a tent.