Reuben already wanted him dead, this really wasn’t going to help.
Oh he was so screwed.
‘Anyway, so one day Mrs Morgenstern turns up for my lesson wearing this pencil skirt and silk blouse and – oh my hairy armpits, Laz, you should have seen her breasts.’
Urquhart. Call Urquhart and explain what happened.
‘Every time she bent over the piano it was like diving into Loch Cleavage. God, you could’ve drowned in there.’
This wasn’t Logan’s fault. Fowler had screwed up, not him.
‘So I tell her I’m having difficulty with my fingering and she says—’
Logan’s phone blared out its anonymous ringtone. He dragged the thing out. ‘Sorry, got to get this.’
Whoever it was, it had to be better than Confessions of a Teenaged Lesbian Piano Student.
‘McRae.’
‘Logan? It’s Eamon.’ A pause. ‘Your brother?’
He turned his back on Steel and climbed out of the car. ‘Let me guess, Mother’s been bending your ear.’
‘I don’t know why you’ve got to antagonize her the whole time, Logan. She phoned me in tears saying you’d shouted and sworn at her. How could you be so insensitive and—’
‘Did she tell you why I was swearing, Eamon? Did she let that tiny nugget of truth escape, or was it all lies like usual?’ He slammed the car door. ‘Well?’ His breath rolled out in a cloud of fog, before being torn away by the wind. Cold air nipped at his ears.
‘Logan, she’s your mother. You can’t—’
‘Dad didn’t die when he was shot. He got better and sodded off to Dunfermline with a nurse. Settled down and had another family. You’ve got a wee sister, Eamon: you’re not the youngest any more.’
Dark furious barks exploded inside the Dog Officer’s van. Difficult to tell if it was Cujo or the Alsatian. A second later it didn’t matter, because the other dog joined in – doubling the noise.
‘All those years she dragged us along to put flowers on his grave and he wasn’t even dead!’
Still nothing from the other end of the phone.
‘She lied to us, Eamon. We could’ve had a father growing up, but she lied.’
The barking was getting louder, each dog egging the other on.
Logan slammed his palm against the van’s cold metal bulkhead. ‘SHUT UP, THE PAIR OF YOU!’ It didn’t work. If anything, they got louder.
Curtains twitched in the house opposite.
Maybe it wasn’t the best of ideas to be ranting and raving in the middle of the street, where anyone could see him, film him, and upload it to YouTube. He turned his back on the van and marched back to the Big Car. ‘You still there?’
‘I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, Logan, but it’s not funny. Grow up, phone Mother back, and apologize.’
‘Don’t be such a mummy’s boy.’
‘All right, I’m hanging up now.’ And the line went dead.
What a shock: Eamon took her side. Well sod him too. Logan wiped the condensation from his phone’s screen and blocked Eamon’s number too.
He stood and glowered down Manner Street. The sea shone, down the end, between the buildings, like a polished headstone.
Thirty-four years.
Thirty-four sodding years.
Steel was still puffing away as he climbed back into the Big Car. ‘Aye, aye, Captain Cheery’s back.’
Logan slammed the door closed. ‘Don’t start.’
‘You ever wonder why you’re such a miserable git?’
He turned and stared at her. ‘Please, do tell me. Is it because I got the crap kicked out of me yesterday? How about: someone tried to slit my throat the night before that? Or maybe it’s because someone burned Samantha’s caravan down today?’ Getting louder with every word. ‘Oh, tell you what – and I’m going out on a limb here – how about it’s because I had to kill my girlfriend on Friday? YOU WANT TO PICK ONE?’ Spittle glowed in the dashboard lights.
Steel took a good long draw on her e-cigarette. Dribbled the steam out of her nose, long and slow. ‘Are we finished, or is there a wee bit more tantrum in there?’
‘I’m having a bad week, that OK with you?’ He folded his arms and thumped back in his seat. And that wasn’t even mentioning the guy he’d seen killed and the guy he’d killed himself. A long breath rattled its way free. Surprising he could even function at all. ‘This isn’t easy.’
She sighed, then gave his shoulder a squeeze. ‘You’re a silly sod, Laz, you know that, don’t you?’
And then some.
Tufty put a hand on Ricky Welsh’s head and pushed it down as he guided him into the back of the Big Car. Making sure he didn’t mess up those flowing shoulder-length locks of his by battering them against the doorframe.
Once in, Ricky sat all squinted over to one side, unable to sit properly because of his hands being cuffed behind his back.
Soon as Tufty had fastened Ricky’s seatbelt for him, Logan started the car’s engine and fiddled with the rear-view mirror until their new friend’s face filled the reflection. ‘You’re not going to give us any trouble, are you, Ricky?’
‘Bloody dog tried to rip my leg off.’
‘Your dog tried to rip my officer’s face off, so we’re probably even.’
‘I’m in agony here, OK?’
Steel wriggled down in the passenger seat as Tufty climbed in on the other side of Ricky. ‘How long till Fraserburgh?’
Logan turned on the windscreen wipers, grinding away a gritty swathe of ice. ‘Half an hour?’
Outside, two of Mitchell’s team were struggling Laura Welsh into the OSU van. They’d put a spit hood on her – it made her look as if she was wearing a baggy nylon condom on her head. The other two, Stevie Fowler and Nick McDowell were being loaded into a second patrol car.
‘Course you know what’s going to happen, don’t you, Ricky?’ Steel pointed as Harper climbed into the car with Fowler and McDowell. ‘That pair of hipster halfwits will spend the next thirty minutes spilling their guts to Detective Superintendent Harper. All the way from here to Fraserburgh, trying to cut a deal by landing you and your charming wife in the crap.’
The OSU van pulled away from the kerb, headlights scrawling their way across the granite houses as it did a three-point turn.
‘What do you think, Sergeant McRae? How long’s our Rickyboy going to get sent down for?’
Logan did a three-pointer of his own, following the van. ‘Good question. Had to be, what, sixty grand’s worth of heroin in there? Kilo of amphetamine. Plus nine thousand-quid bricks of resin…’ He sucked a breath in through his teeth. ‘Fiver says eight years.’
‘Eight years? Aye, if the Sheriff’s in a really good mood. Five quid on twelve to fourteen.’
‘Deal.’
She reached across the car and shook his hand.
Ricky curled his lip. ‘Yeah, good try. I’m completely bricking it back here. Woe is me, etcetera.’ He shifted from side to side in his seat. ‘Amateurs.’
Ah well, it’d been a longshot anyway.
Logan took them out through the town limits, following the OSU van on the road to Fraserburgh.
One last go. ‘Ricky?’ Logan caught his eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘Hamish Mowat only died on Wednesday and you’re already climbing into bed with Jessica Campbell? Not very loyal, is it?’
No reply.
‘How do you think Reuben’s going to feel about that? Think he’s going to be happy?’
Ricky Welsh squirmed for a moment, then shrugged. ‘No comment.’
‘What do you think he’s going to do to you when he finds out?’
‘No comment.’
Maybe Harper would have more luck with Fowler and McDowell? Who knew, maybe Fowler would keep his trap shut about delivering a package for Logan? And maybe pixies and fairies would scamper out of DCI Steel’s backside and buy them all fish suppers for their tea.
Ricky
Welsh was probably right, ‘no comment’ was the only way to go.
37
Steel yawned, showing off grey fillings and a yellow tongue, then slumped in her chair. ‘Time is it?’
Logan checked. ‘Nearly half one.’
Fraserburgh station was coffin quiet, not so much as the creak of a floorboard to break the spell. Wind battered the windows in the Sergeants’ Office, hail crackling against the glass. Outside, the streetlights bobbed and weaved, their pale-yellow glow blurred by the weather.
‘Half one…’ Steel slumped even further, trouser legs riding up to expose pale hairy shins. ‘Bored. Knackered.’
‘So go home.’
‘And my ribs hurt.’
He shut down his computer. ‘So – go – home.’
‘Feels like someone’s given me a going over with a lawnmower.’ At least that would explain the hairstyle.
‘There’s no point hanging around here. One: we have to wait for everyone’s lawyers to turn up. Two: then we’ve got to wait for them to coach their clients in the ancient art of denying everything. Three: Harper says she’s sitting in on all the interviews, so it’ll take hours before it’s done.’ He stood and stretched, wincing as it pulled at the bruises along his back. ‘Might as well Foxtrot Oscar, go home, and get some sleep.’
Another yawn. ‘Harper? You no’ on first-name terms yet? After all those years you spent swimming about together in your dad’s testicles, think you would’ve developed some sort of bond. Calling each other “Sir” and “Sergeant”. No’ natural.’
‘Why is every woman in my life a pain in the backside?’
Steel grinned. ‘Your own fault for being part of the oppressive patriarchal hierarchy.’ She scratched at her belly. Frowned. ‘I want chips.’
‘Good for you.’ He fastened his equipment belt, then Velcroed on his stabproof vest. ‘Now are you coming or not?’
‘Chips.’ Steel banged on the arms of her chair. ‘Chips, chips, chips, chips, chips!’
So this was what having a toddler was like.
‘Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t—’
A knock on the door, then Narveer poked his turban into the office. His eyes were swollen around the bridge of his nose, a circle of black flecks crusting each nostril. ‘Sergeant McRae? Detective Superintendent Harper would like to see you downstairs regarding the two gentlemen we arrested at the Welshes’. Interview Room Two please.’
Ah.
She’d found out about him and Stevie Fowler.
Well, it had to happen sooner or later.
‘Right.’ Deep breath. A nod. Then he followed Narveer out into the corridor, back straight, chin up.
All the way down the stairs, the Detective Inspector peered at him. Not saying anything.
At the bottom he stopped, put a hand on Logan’s arm. ‘Sergeant McRae, I understand this is probably very difficult for you.’
Now there was an understatement.
‘But I need you to see it from the Super’s point of view.’
Her brother was involved in organized crime. Yeah, that would probably be a bit embarrassing for her. But it wasn’t as if she didn’t have plausible deniability, was it?
‘Sergeant McRae, Logan, just because she’s known about you for years, it doesn’t mean she’s used to the reality of the situation.’
She wasn’t the one who’d end up doing eight years in HMP Glenochil with all the other dodgy police officers and vulnerable prisoners.
‘Give her time, OK? She’s a much nicer person when you get to know her.’
What?
Logan licked his lips. ‘You sure about that?’
‘She’s been an only child her whole life, well, except for the spectre of you and your brother. And now here you are,’ he poked Logan in the shoulder, ‘in the flesh.’ A shrug. ‘Given how much she hated you last week, she’s come a long way.’
Yeah…
‘Anyway, better not keep her waiting.’ Narveer led the way through the station, along its creaky galleon floors, to a bland door with a big ‘2’ painted on it and a laminated sign: ‘NO PERSONS TO BE LEFT UNATTENDED IN THIS ROOM AT ANY TIME’.
Narveer knocked, then opened the door.
Harper was sitting there, on her own. Violating the signage. She tried on a smile. ‘Sergeant McRae, I want you to sit in on the interviews with Fowler and McDowell. I need a result on this one. You did a good job bursting Martin Milne, let’s see if you can do it again.’
Oh great.
Sit in a little room, trying to get the guy who was meant to deliver an illegal package to him to incriminate himself without mentioning Reuben, or Logan, or the illegal package.
Because that was going to go so well.
And it’d be videoed, so they’d have him on record fiddling the truth.
Wonderful.
Eight years for being concerned in the supply of controlled drugs – Contrary to Section 4(3)(b) of the Misuse of Drugs Act 1971, M’lord – and another eight for trying to pervert the course of justice.
Hurrah.
‘Are you all right, Sergeant? Only I thought you’d be pleased at this show of faith.’
‘Yes.’ He pulled on a smile of his own. It hung there like a scar. ‘Thank you.’
Screwed, screwed, screwed, screwed, screwed.
‘For the record, I am now showing Mr Fowler exhibit Sixteen A.’ Harper held up an evidence bag full of small white pills. ‘Do you recognize these, Steven?’
The interview room smelled of aftershave and tobacco, both of which oozed out of Fowler as if he’d been drenched in them. He’d been stripped of his hoodies, sandshoes, and skin-tight jeans and given a white SOC suit instead – rustling every time he moved. ‘Are they pills of some kind?’ Playing it wide-eyed and innocent.
At least it made a change from the usual ‘no comment’.
‘Seriously, Steven?’ She glanced at Logan. ‘Can you believe this guy?’
Fowler shrugged and spread his hands. ‘What am I supposed to say? They look like some sort of pill to me.’
‘What kind of pill?’
‘I’m doing my best to cooperate. I could have lawyered up and I didn’t, did I? I really want to help, but me and Nick were only there to look at a mountain bike. If I’d known they were drug dealers we’d never have gone. Honestly.’
Harper stared at him. Then wrote something down in her notebook, tore the page off, folded it, and handed it to Logan: ‘FEEL FREE TO ACTUALLY CONTRIBUTE AT SOME POINT.’
Well, there was probably no point putting it off any longer.
Logan cleared his throat. ‘Have you been in the market for a mountain bike for long, Steven?’
‘Yeah. Totally.’
‘I see. Good. And what do you do, when you’re not shopping for second-hand bicycles? Got a job?’
Pink bloomed in Fowler’s cheeks. ‘Not at the moment.’
‘I see.’
He shifted in his seat, then ran a hand across his sideways quiff as if checking it was still there. ‘I’m not on benefits or anything, OK? Got made redundant last week, that’s all.’
‘I see.’
‘Me and Nick worked as roustabouts for two years … then the oil price, you know?’
Silence.
‘Wasn’t our fault. Everyone says they’re tightening their belts, yeah? Well, their belts are cutting off our circulation. How am I supposed to support my kids with no job?’
‘I see.’
Fowler leaned forwards, shoulders scrunched up around his ears. ‘It’s not easy out there. Yeah, I got my redundancy, but it’s not going to last, is it? Got to make your own way in the world, can’t rely on handouts, can you?’
Logan tapped his pen against his notebook. Tap. Tap. Tap. Like a metronome.
Fowler stared at it. ‘Man’s got to work. That’s what we wanted the bike for. Going to start a messenger service in Aberdeen. Point-to-point for oil companies and that
, you know?’
Tap. Tap. Tap.
‘I mean, everyone’s got packages they need delivered, right? Letters and bids and tenders and things. Stuff you can’t email.’
Tap. Tap. Tap.
‘And that’s why we were there. Need to buy a couple of bikes to get it off the ground.’
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He wrapped his arms around himself. ‘See. Nothing weird about it. Just two blokes trying to pay their way.’
Tap. Pause. Tap. Pause. Tap…
Harper sighed. ‘Interview suspended at one forty.’ She pressed the button, then stood. ‘I suggest we take a comfort break and reconvene in five minutes. Sergeant McRae will look after you.’
As soon as the door shut behind her, Logan leaned forward, mirroring Fowler. ‘Steven? I know who you are.’
Fowler blinked at him.
‘You’re already delivering packages, aren’t you? That bit of your story was true.’
He bit his top lip and stared at the tabletop. ‘Don’t know what you mean.’
‘Oh come off it, Steven, I know, OK? Reuben – the package, hiding it?’ He picked up the notebook and slammed it down again. ‘I know.’
Fowler flinched. His shoulders trembled. ‘I don’t… It… We…’
‘You were supposed to drop off a package.’
‘Oh Christ…’ He scrubbed a hand across his face, as if he was trying to rub some life back into it. ‘Who told you?’
‘Well?’
‘Yes. There was a package.’ Fowler scooted forward in his seat, talking low and fast. ‘Look, it hasn’t been easy, OK? The redundancy. It’s… I need to make money. I’ve got two kids and an ex who thinks I’m made of the bloody stuff. So I do a bit of delivery driving, it’s no big deal, is it? A bit of picking up and dropping off?’ He bared his teeth. ‘Only I need a lot more than picking-up and dropping-off money. So I thought, why not? I mean, it’s not like this Reuben guy’s going to shop me to the police if I nick his drugs, is it? How’s he even going to know?’
Really?
‘I think he might notice.’
In the Cold Dark Ground Page 34