Stuart MacBride - In the Cold Dark Ground

‘Can’t say we haven’t got a motive now.’ Logan stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. Say what you like about Police-Scotland-issue itchy-trousers-stabproof-vest-and-high-viz-jacket combination, at least it kept you warm.

The container yard was full of large metal boxes, all painted blue with a big angry-Viking logo on the side. Some were just about big enough to park Logan’s Fiat Punto in, others could’ve fitted a full-sized minibus. Some with external refrigeration units, others with fancy sliding doors. Like the one they were standing in, sheltering from the thin misty rain.

‘What about the death message? Those lazy Weegie sods delivered it yet?’

Rennie nodded. ‘Becky says Greater Glasgow Division tracked down Shepherd’s next of kin half an hour ago.’

‘Cool. Tell the Media Office I want a slot on the evening news. Appeal for witnesses, heinous crime, blah, blah, blah.’

Logan checked his watch. ‘Better head back to Banff. Shift ends in forty minutes.’

‘You’re no’ in the Bunnet Brigade today, Laz, you’re in the Magnificent Intellectual Team. We don’t do shifts. Shifts are for the weak, remember?’

He closed his eyes and thunked the back of his head off the container’s metal wall, getting a ringing bonggggg in return.

‘Rennie, how many of these GCML monkeys we got left?’

‘Erm... Just the receptionist.’

‘Right, you trot off like a good wee boy and have a word with her. And try no’ to fall for her wrinkly sunbed charm, we all know how you like an older woman. Pervert.’

Rennie sloped off into the rain.

Steel waited till he’d disappeared back into the office building. Then took a long drag on her e-cigarette. ‘Who told you about Jack Wallace?’

‘Who is he?’

She shrugged. ‘A paedo. Caught him with a big wodge of kiddy porn on his laptop.’ Another drag. ‘It was Napier, wasn’t it?’

‘Wanted me to keep an eye on you. See if you mentioned Wallace.’

‘Gah.’ She worked a finger down into her cleavage and had a rummage. ‘Told you, didn’t I? Napier’s hit his thirty years and they’re chucking him out to pasture. Slimy wee sod’s been holding on by his fingernails since the re-org.’ Dig, rummage, fiddle. ‘How do you think it plays back home when we’ve got one Chief Superintendent in charge of the whole division, and there’s Napier, same rank, spodding about in Professional Standards? Big Tony Campbell’s been trying to get shot of him for ages.’

‘So why’s he interested in Wallace?’

‘He’s just on the sniff. Doesn’t want to slump off into obscurity without first screwing over one more poor sod.’

Logan stepped in front of her. ‘So there’s nothing dodgy going on?’

‘Sod, and indeed, all. Forget about it.’ More rummaging. ‘You know what I think?’

Logan waited.

Dig. Fiddle. Hoik. ‘I think this is Susan’s bra.’

Steel put the cap back on her marker pen. ‘Any questions?’

There weren’t as many people in the Major Incident Room as there had been for the morning meeting — about half of them were away doing things — but that still left a dozen plainclothes officers. They sat around the conference table, chairs all turned towards the whiteboard. Behind them, Logan leaned back against the wall, stifling a yawn.

Should’ve been home by now.

DS McKenzie put her hand up. ‘So are we treating this as a crime of passion, Guv? Or is it all about the cash?’

‘Crime of passion?’

‘Yeah, maybe Milne finds out Shepherd isn’t as faithful as he thought? Maybe he’s shagging someone else behind his back? Or maybe the bag over his head’s a kind of autoerotic asphyxiation thing?’

Steel stared at her. ‘Bit extreme for a stranglewank, isn’t it, Becky? Don’t know about your love life, but when I’m doing your mum I tend to draw the line at duct-taping a bin-bag over her head.’

Becky folded her arms across her chest, chin in the air. ‘So it’s money.’

‘Two hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds of it.’ She turned and underlined the figure on the board. It sat between a photo of Shepherd and one of Milne. One titled ‘V ICTIM ’ the other, ‘S USPECT #1 ’.

A huge DC in an ill-fitting suit stopped doodling penguins on his notepad. It was Rennie’s friend from yesterday, the one with the awful teeth. ‘What about this gangland angle? We ignoring that now?’

Steel stuck her nose in the air. ‘ We are ignoring nothing, Owen. We’re focusing our resources. And just for that, you’re searching Shepherd’s place again. You, Donna, and Spaver. Fine-toothed comb this time.’

His shoulders slumped. ‘Guv.’

‘Robertson?’

A whippet-thin man with horrible sideburns nodded. ‘Guv?’

She chucked a flash drive across the table to him. ‘Homemade porn from Shepherd’s house. Between wanks, I want you IDing everyone on there. Background checks and interviews.’

‘Guv.’

Then Steel held her arms out, as if she was about to bless everyone in the room. ‘Now get your sharny backsides out there and find me Martin Milne.’

Chairs were scraped back, and, one by one, the team shuffled out of the room.

Logan didn’t bother to hide the yawn this time as Steel shut the door behind them.

‘No’ boring you, are we?’ She dug out her phone and poked at the screen for a moment, then put it against her ear. ‘Make yourself useful and grab us a coffee will you? And some cake. Or biscuits. Crisps will do at a—’ She held up a hand and turned away from him. ‘Super? Yeah, it’s Roberta. Just wanted you to know we’ve got a suspect and a motive for the Shepherd murder. I’ve got a slot booked on the news, so if—... No... Yeah, I know they think it’s the same MO, but listen, we—... No, sir... Yes, sir. But we—’ Steel marched over to one of the room’s two windows and stood there, glaring out at the rain. ‘I understand that, sir, but we’re making progress here. I’m making progress. And—... No. OK... Bye.’

Steel lowered her phone. Then swore at it.

‘Good news?’

She turned and glared at him instead. ‘Sodding Superintendent Sodding Young says we’re getting a sodding babysitter.’ Steel jammed her e-cigarette in her mouth and chewed on the end. ‘Some arsebag Central-Belt bumwarden from Forth Valley Division. Apparently she’s an expert on Malk the Knife. Apparently she’s very efficient and good at her job. Apparently she’s already on her way.’

Logan tried not to smile, he really did. ‘Not nice when someone waltzes in and takes over your case, is it?’

‘Oh ha, ha.’ Steel thumped herself down on the windowsill, rattling the blinds. ‘Any chance we can catch Milne and beat a confession out of him in the next,’ she checked her watch, ‘hour?’

‘Probably not.’

‘Well, look at you, all booted and suited.’ Sergeant Ashton leaned back in her chair and gave him the once-over. She’d had her hair done again, blonde highlights and brown lowlights giving her head the look of a humbug that’d fallen down the back of the sofa and got all fuzzy. ‘To what do I owe the honour?’

Piles of boxes littered the Sergeants’ Office, all of them tagged and sealed. Some used to contain crisps, some frozen peas. Some had willies drawn on the outside.

Logan settled into the seat opposite. ‘Aye, aye, Beaky. Foos yer doos, the day then?’

‘You’re getting better. But for maximum teuchterness it should be “i’ day”, not “ the day”.’

He nodded at the boxes. ‘Has Mum been to Iceland?’