‘But if someone finds out-’
‘Mr Mowat has left provision in his will for my firm to represent you.’ The lawyer stood. ‘Now, I really must return to Mr Harris.’
Logan stared up at him. ‘How am I supposed to-’
‘You can see yourself out.’
20
The sun burns like a glowing cigarette end pressed into pale skin. Rowan closes the bathroom window and leans on the sink, head down, blood-red hair hanging like a curtain in front of her face. Don’t be sick. She’s stronger than that. She did what had to be done.
‘The Kirk. .’ The words stick in her throat. She takes a deep breath and forces them out. ‘The Kirk is my mother and father. It is my rod and my staff. My shield and my sword. What I. .’ She closes her eyes. ‘What I do in its service lights. . lights a fire in God’s name.’
Don’t be sick.
‘Lights a fire in God’s name, lights a fire in God’s name, lights a fire in God’s name. .’
The churning fizz inside her settles, leaving a hollow shell behind. Like a chrysalis after the moth has gone. Empty and brittle.
Her black leather gloves leave scarlet smudges on the porcelain.
Tenet Three: ‘Leave nothing of thyself behind: lest thine enemies use it against thee.’ Rowan turns the hot tap on and lets it run until it steams, then washes her hands. The water runs pink, soaking through the gloves’ stitching, leaving the leather shiny like fresh liver.
‘What I do in its service lights a fire in God’s name.’
She pulls a towel from the rail by the door and wipes the sink clean.
There. That’s better, isn’t it?
Did what needed to be done.
She raises her head and looks at the woman in the mirror. Empty and brittle. Tendrils of dark red and black make wings across her shoulders, jagged with barbs and thorns and claws.
She bares her teeth. ‘What I do in its service lights a fire in god’s name!’ Spittle flecks the mirror.
And slowly the red fades to pale blue, then gold.
A little smile pulls at the corner of her lips.
All better.
‘. .or not? Guv? ’
Logan blinked.
‘Guv!’ Sitting in the visitor’s chair, Rennie crossed his arms and stuck his bottom lip out. ‘Least you could do is pretend to be interested.’
Logan frowned, then checked his watch. ‘What are you doing in here anyway? Not even half-seven yet.’
Rennie screwed his face up. ‘Aaaaaargh! I just told you. I’m in because bloody DS bloody Chalmers phoned me — while I was in bloody bed, by the way — wanting to know where all the hate crime files were. And-’
‘Did you tell her? ’
‘Yes, but-’
‘Then what’s the problem? ’
‘What’s the. .’ Rennie screamed at the ceiling again. ‘Why did you tell her to check up on me? We used to be a team. But now it’s all: Chalmers this, and Chalmers that.’
‘Oh for God’s sake.’ Logan moved onto the next budget requisition form: DI Bell wanting DNA analysis for a series of housebreakings. It went on the ‘possibly’ pile along with a request to set up a surveillance operation in Blackburn, looking for a cannabis farm, and one for a forensic archaeologist to consult on what might or might not be a body deposition site outside Fraserburgh.
‘What, I’m not good enough for you any more? I used to be the Robin to your Batman. The Rodney to your Del Boy. The Branston Pickle to your cheese on toast!’
Silence.
Logan stared at him. ‘Seriously? ’
‘The hate crimes aren’t Chalmers’s, they’re mine!’
‘The Robin to my Batman? ’
He shrugged one shoulder. ‘I couldn’t get back to sleep. Just lay there thinking about all the ways you were screwing me over with this bloody Chalmers woman.’
‘No, but seriously: Robin? ’
‘It’s not fair.’
Logan shook his head. ‘I hate to disappoint you, Rennie, but we’re not a gay couple, OK? And I’m not screwing you over with Chalmers.’
The other shoulder came up, making him look like a grumpy teenager. ‘Well. . that’s how it feels.’
Logan sat back, drummed his fingers on the desktop. ‘Tell you what, find me some bloody suspects and you can be the favourite again. And while we’re at it: what’s happening with your shoplifting tramps? ’
‘It’s. .’ He wriggled in his seat. ‘It’s not as easy as you’d-’
The door clunked open and Steel stood there, one hand hauling up her trousers, the other plucking the electronic cigarette from her mouth. She narrowed her eyes, making everything all wrinkly. ‘What are you pair of dinks doing here? ’
Logan pointed across the desk. ‘Poor wee Rennie’s feeling all unloved and unappreciated. So he’s come in early to moan about it.’
‘Oh aye, and what’s your excuse? ’
‘Doing your paperwork.’
She smiled, both arms extended as if she was waiting to be crucified. ‘Then all is forgiven. Now grab your coat — we’re going out.’
Logan stood. ‘Another body? ’
Steel frowned. ‘No: pub. Why does it always have to be work, work, work with you? ’ She slapped Rennie on the back of the head. ‘Arse in gear, Stinky, you’ve got tramps to find.’
Rennie grumbled his way out of the chair, then out of Logan’s office.
She waited till he’d shut the door behind him. Then collapsed into the vacant chair. ‘We’re screwed.’
‘What’s wrong this time? Did. .’ Logan sat down again. ‘Hold on, if you thought I wasn’t here, why did you barge in? ’
She dug a hand down her cleavage and went rummaging. ‘You were here.’
‘Yeah, but you didn’t know that.’
Rummage, rummage. ‘My underwire’s killing us. I keep telling Susan, you’ve no’ to put them in the washing machine, but will she listen? ’
‘Answer the question.’
‘We’re getting a visit tomorrow from the National Police Improvement Authority. Apparently our necklacing case is going nowhere. Boardroom, half two in the afternoon, attendance is mandatory.’
Just what they needed. ‘Who they sending? ’
‘Who do you think: a bunch of cockshites from Strathclyde up to point out the sodding obvious and tell us how to do our jobs.’ She gave her cleavage one last dig, then puckered her lips around the fake cigarette, sending a little puff of steam up into the room. ‘Well, I’m no’ giving up that easy. Tell everyone I want their arses in the briefing room at quarter to eight sharp. And I mean everyone. This case isn’t turning into a runner, understand? I want its bloody legs hacked off before our Weegie visitors get here. I want it like Stumpy McStumperton, so we can tell them to turn round and sod off back from whence they sodding came.’
Yeah. . that was going to happen.
Logan looked up at the door. ‘So come on then, why did you barge in here? ’
Steel sniffed. ‘Sometimes, when you’re all out, I like to rummage through your desks and see what lies you’re hiding from me.’
Good job he still had the form about being an executor for Wee Hamish Mowat and the dirty big cheque in his pocket then.
Steel pulled a face. ‘God’s knickers, the place is hoaching.’
O’Donoghues was a barn of a place off Justice Mill Lane, the walls painted a mucal shade of shamrock green. As if all the Guinness and Beamish memorabilia wasn’t enough of a giveaway. The crowd was three deep at the bar, the tables around the outside already taken.
An all-girl six-piece band crowded the stage: electric guitar, bass, fiddle, drums, accordion, and a lead singer belting out the Stereophonics’s ‘Have a Nice Day’. They were good. Good, but loud.
Logan frowned around him. ‘Could we not go somewhere quieter? ’
‘Don’t be so wet.’
‘Remember, I’m only staying for the one. Got to go up the hospital.’
‘Wah, wah, wah. Get
us a table.’ She stuck out her elbows and waded for the bar.
‘It’s packed, how am I supposed to. .’ But she wasn’t listening, she was barging through the crowd like a wrinkly icebreaker that stank of cigarette smoke.
Well, maybe someone would be sodding off soon? Then he could nick their table. He did a slow three-sixty, staring through the mass of bodies. . then stopped. Someone at a table crowded with empty glasses was standing up and waving at him.
‘Guv? ’ PC Guthrie had changed out of his all-black-ninja-police officer uniform and into a tweed sports coat and a pair of jeans, as if he was channelling the spirit of Jeremy Clarkson. He smiled, the fair hair and pale eyebrows looking like mould on his happy potato face. ‘Over here.’ Guthrie shifted his chair over a couple of hops, and pointed at an empty one beside him. ‘Great band, eh? ’
Logan settled into the seat, the other three people at the table rearranging their chairs to make room for him. PC Hannah had a big droopy smile on her face, eyes heavy and lidded in her wobbly head, dark wiry hair sticking out in a frizzy crash helmet. PC Stringer covered his mouth for a belch, blinked a couple of times, then went back to making little knots out of empty crisp packets. Forehead creased up in concentration.
Contestant number three was Dr Graham, sipping what was either a huge gin-and-tonic or a pint of sparkling water. She leaned forward. ‘I should have a face for you by mid-morning tomorrow.’
Stringer patted her on the shoulder. ‘Your round, April. Can we. . can we have more crisps? ’
Hannah banged a hand down on the table, making the empties clink and rattle. ‘Eating’s cheating!’
‘Making a night of it then? ’
Guthrie shrugged, then drained the last of his latte. ‘Supporting the troops.’
Another thump. ‘Drink!’
‘OK, OK. Drink it is.’ Dr Graham stood and gathered up an armful of empties. ‘DI McRae? ’
‘Not for me, thanks. Got one coming.’
She shuffled off, looking as if she was carrying nitroglycerine rather than a few empty glasses, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth.
Up on the wee stage, the song jangled to the end and applause crackled around the room, along with the occasional whoop.
The singer let it die down, then her voice boomed out of the speakers. ‘Thanks, guys, here’s a number we haven’t done in a little while, it’s called “The Importance of Being Idle”.’ And off they went again.
Logan turned and peered over his shoulder, through the crowd. ‘Is that Constable Sim up there? ’
Guthrie nodded. ‘Every other Monday. Good, aren’t they? ’ He cleared his throat, leaned in close, not quite shouting over the band. ‘Have you talked to Rennie recently, only he’s on a real moan about this tramp thing.’
‘It’s all he ever does these days: moan.’
‘I know, but he looks up to you and. .’ Guthrie sat upright, cranking up the smile. ‘Chalmers, thought you weren’t going to make it? ’
DS Chalmers stood to attention, nodding at Logan. ‘Sir. Can I get anyone a drink? ’
‘Nah, you’re good — April’s just gone up for-’
There was a crash of broken glass, then a cheer and some swearing. Dr Graham strikes again.
Chalmers looked left, then right, then marched off and came back a minute later with another chair. Parked it next to Logan. ‘Hoped I’d bump into you, sir. I went through DS Rennie’s notes for the hate crimes, and I think I’ve got a connection. All the victims are male, from the Far East, and none of them are prepared to make a statement.’
‘That’s your connection? ’
‘No.’ She opened her mouth. Then closed it again. Had another go: ‘Well, yes it is, but think about it: if you’ve been attacked by a bunch of racist morons, why lie to protect them? Why not cooperate with the police? Wouldn’t you want them arrested and locked up? ’
He shook his head. ‘Not that much of a shock, is it? Whoever beat them up threatens to come back and finish the job if they speak to the police. Poor sods are too scared to stick their hands up and ask for help.’
‘But what if it’s more than that? What if our victims are involved in something illegal too? ’
‘And they can’t talk without incriminating themselves.’ Possible.
‘What if-’
A gravelly voice sounded right behind her. ‘Hoy, Curly-top, budge up.’ Steel was back.
Chalmers stood. ‘Sorry, ma’am. Would you like my seat? ’
Steel smiled. ‘Blatant sucking up, but I’m cool with that.’ She thumped a pint glass down on the table in front of Logan: black with a white head.
He sniffed at it. ‘I don’t drink Guinness, I drink Stella. You know that.’
‘Tough nipples. They’re no’ giving Stella away half-price if you flash your warrant card, are they? ’ She creaked into the vacated seat, clutching a large white wine and what had to be a triple whisky. ‘Anyway, it’s good for you.’
‘You drink it then.’
Steel shuddered, then took a sip of wine. ‘No chance. Bloody stuff tastes like licking a leprechaun’s bumhole.’
Chalmers shuffled her feet. ‘I like Guinness.’
Logan pushed the pint towards her. ‘Knock yourself out.’
‘. .thanks, everyone! We’re Burn this City Down, and we’ll be back after a short break: Jane needs a pee, and the rest of us need Tequila!’ A huge round of applause went up, and the band followed the blushing bass player offstage.
Steel settled back in her seat and had a scratch at her left armpit, lips puckered, staring at PC Hannah. ‘Come on then.’
The constable gave her a slow-motion blink — one eye lagging behind the other — then smiled, chin pulled into her neck, giving birth to chins. ‘Shoot Jamie. Shag Nigella. Marry Delia? ’
Steel threw her head back and roared a laugh at the ceiling.
Chalmers wobbled her way through the crowd to the table with a chipped brown tray laden with drinks. ‘Right: one latte, one sparkling water. .’ She doled them out to Guthrie and Dr Graham. ‘One Jack and Coke for Sophie, one Stella. .’ That went down in front of Logan. ‘One white wine with a Grouse chaser. .’ Steel. ‘And two Guinness.’
She tucked the tray under the table for next time. ‘Cheers, everyone.’
Steel wrapped herself around a mouthful of wine. Smacked her lips. ‘Guthrie, your turn: Tony Blair, Ed Miliband, and Nick Clegg.’
Chalmers shuffled her chair closer to Logan’s. ‘Before I forget. .’ She dug about in her handbag, coming out with a white carrier-bag with a big ‘W’ on it. ‘Got you something.’
Ah. Logan stared at it. Well, this was awkward. ‘You don’t have to. . It’s. . I’m certainly flattered, but I’m seeing someone and-’
‘Oh God no, no.’ She held up her hand and shrank back in her seat, eyes wide. ‘I’m not. . It isn’t. . I just thought it would help with the investigation.’ She handed it to him. ‘Open it.’
He did. There was a paperback inside, thick as a house brick. Witchfire picked out in shiny gold above a ‘SIGNED BY THE AUTHOR’ sticker, another boasting ‘SOON TO BE A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE!’ and one more with ‘2 FOR?10!’. The actual book cover was almost invisible. ‘I see. .’
Chalmers took a mouthful out of her Guinness, leaving herself with a white foam moustache. ‘Tenet Two: “Know thine enemy, for knowledge is power and power is victory.” If Agnes Garfield is really that obsessed with the book, maybe we can use it to figure out where she is, or what she’s going to do next? ’
Might not be a bad idea at that.
Laughter erupted through the group, Steel pounding on the tabletop, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘You’re a sick, sick puppy, Guthrie! A cucumber!’
Guthrie shrugged. ‘It’s not like I’d eat it afterwards.’
Logan slipped the book into his pocket. ‘Thanks.’
‘No problems, Guv.’
The glass of Stella was cold, beads of condensation rolling down the side. He raised
it to his lips, then swore. His phone was having a fit in his pocket, vibrating and blaring out ‘If I Only Had a Brain.’
Sodding Rennie. .
‘What do you want? ’
Rennie’s voice was barely audible in the crowded pub. ‘-ng, don’t ha-. . -er and. . it? ’
Logan stuck a finger in his other ear. ‘What? ’
‘I sai-. . entire pl-. . -overed in blood! It-. . -ody.’
He stood. ‘Calm down and try again.’
Rennie did, but it wasn’t any better.
Steel frowned up from her whisky. ‘What’s munching on your pants? ’
‘Rennie. Says there’s a body, blood everywhere.’ Logan grabbed his jacket off the chair and pushed through the crowd to the exit.
Sunlight glinted off the roadworks on the other side of the street, a deep hole in the patchwork tarmac ringed around with orange cones and barrier tape.
Justice Mill Lane bustled with cars, taxis and drunken half-wits. A pair of girlies were bent over their friend, at the kerb, outside the nightclub next door, one holding her hair the other stroking her shoulders as she vomited in the gutter. Her short skirt was tucked into her knickers at the back. Classy.
A pack of greasy-looking young men laughed like hyenas outside the slab-faced communist-styled lump of a building that used to be the local swimming pool, trying to get one of their number to wear a stolen traffic cone as a wizard’s hat. Someone in the distance roared out the words to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ as if it was a battle cry.
Eight o’clock on a Monday evening. .
Logan hunched his shoulders against the noise and pressed the phone hard against his ear. ‘What body? ’
‘OK, OK. .’ There was a deep breath. ‘Kintore. Neighbours complained about the smell, so the local station sent round a uniform. There’s a body in the kitchen and blood. . everywhere.’
‘Has the-’
‘I can’t cock this up! I’ve never dealt with something like this on my own. What? What do I do? ’
O’Donoghue’s door clunked open and Chalmers appeared.
DCI Steel was right behind her, blinking into the sunshine. ‘What’s this about a body? ’
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