Stuart MacBride - In the Cold Dark Ground

Logan patted her on the shoulder. ‘Take a deep breath. Then go upstairs and tell Steel she needs to put up the extra cash, or stop being a pain in your backside. She’ll appreciate the honesty.’

‘Really?’ Weatherford’s eyebrows went up an inch. Then she licked her lips and nodded. ‘OK. Honesty. Pain in the backside. I can do this.’

‘And if she shouts at you, try to think nice thoughts till she stops.’

With any luck, given the state of Steel’s hangover, any yelling would hurt her more than it hurt Weatherford. If nothing else it would keep the ensuing bollocking to a minimum.

‘Oh God...’ The DS turned and fidgeted her way back along the corridor.

Logan shook his head and stepped outside.

The air was crisp and harsh, biting at his ears as he unlocked the car and climbed in behind the wheel. Took out his mobile phone and called John Urquhart’s number.

Listened to it ring.

‘ Yellow? ’

‘John? It’s Logan.’

‘ Mr McRae? You OK? Reuben said— ’

‘Thought you might be dead.’

‘ Nah, just a scratch. Didn’t get far enough away from the Reubenator’s shotgun. My own stupid fault. Couple of stitches and I’m right as rain. ’ A sigh. ‘ More than I can say for the Armani, though. Whole suit, completely ruined. Overcoat too. ’

‘What about Reuben?’

‘ Ah... Yes. Reuben. ’ Urquhart made a hissing noise. ‘ He’s a wee bit hacked off. You know, what with you shooting him and everything. ’

‘I tried, I really did.’

‘ Never seen him so angry. I mean, we’re talking Chernobyl in green overalls here. ’

Of course he was.

Well, it wasn’t really that surprising, was it? If you shoot someone twice they were hardly likely to be your bestest friend forever.

‘ Might be a good idea for you to get out of Scotland for a bit, Mr McRae. Somewhere far away, where Reuben can’t get his hands on you. Cos if he does, it’s going to be long and slow and horrible. Trust me, I’ve seen it. ’

The side door to the station opened and Harper marched out with Narveer trailing in her wake. Today’s turban was a cheery yellow-and-black check, like Rupert Bear’s trousers.

‘ And you better keep that gun on you till you go, you know what I’m saying? He’s pulling in favours. ’

Not much chance of that. Harper and Narveer were hardly going to let him nip home for five minutes. What? Oh, nothing much: got to feed the cat and pick up a firearm in case a gangster needs shooting. Again.

Yeah, probably not.

Narveer opened the back door. ‘Morning, Logan.’

Logan gave him a wave, keeping his voice neutral. Nothing to see here, just a standard-issue innocent phone call. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go. But if you hear anything, let me know, OK?’

‘ Stay safe, Mr McRae. Safe and far, far away. ’

Logan hung up and slipped the phone into his pilfered stabproof vest as Harper climbed into the passenger seat. ‘All set?’

She nodded at him. ‘Let’s go pay Mr Milne a visit.’

DS McKenzie sat on the end of the bed, munching her way through a wee packet of complimentary shortbread, getting crumbs down her shirt. She’d released her hair from its angry pompom, letting it curl and coil around her scowling face.

Logan nodded at the adjoining wall to the next hotel room. ‘How did Milne take it?’

‘You’d think we were asking him to swim the Atlantic. Apparently Mrs Milne is not the forgiving type.’

‘On the bright side, it means you’ll get to be in on the swoop.’

‘He’s such a bloody whinge. No one made him get a loan from gangsters, did they? Deserves all he gets.’

Logan peered out through the window at the car park below. An old man was out shovelling grit onto the snow, giving it dark brown streaks. ‘They going to put him in witness protection?’

‘You know what? I genuinely couldn’t give a toss.’ McKenzie crumpled up the wrapper and lobbed it at the bin. It didn’t even get halfway there. ‘Steel won’t let me do the overtime paperwork unless I do the shift rosters as well. Says it’ll be good practice for when I get promoted.’ Her top lip curled. ‘Lazy, useless, wrinkly, disaster area.’

‘Could always transfer out to another division.’

‘And let her win?’ Becky tore her way into another wee packet of shortbread. ‘You ever wonder why we bother, McRae?’

Every. Single. Day.

He left her to her sulk and headed next door.

A suitcase sat in the middle of the bed, an array of socks and pants and shirts arranged around it, all neatly folded and ready to pack. Milne stood with his back to the TV, arms crossed, jaw set, bottom lip poking out as Harper settled into the room’s only chair.

‘Come on, Martin, we’ve been over this.’

Narveer had taken up position by the en suite, leaning back against the wall. ‘Your family’s safer if you’re all in the one place.’

Dirty photos jumbled across the hotel desk — the stills from Shepherd and Milne’s sex sessions. Some had names written in the corner of the image in jaggy biro letters, others nothing but a row of question marks. It looked as if DS Robertson hadn’t wasted any time getting his finger out. At long last. Maybe it would save him an arse-kicking when Steel’s hangover passed, but Logan doubted it.

All those different women: blondes, brunettes, redheads, thin, not-so-thin, positively chunky, light skin, dark skin, olive skin, young-ish, middle-aged, old. Milne and Shepherd didn’t seem to have a type. Well, other than anyone who was prepared to say yes to a threesome.

A few of them looked familiar, but then B Division wasn’t exactly Greater Manchester. Rural area like this, you rubbed shoulders with everyone sooner or later. Pretty certain he’d stopped the school-teachery type, with the black bun and PVC stockings, for having bald tyres on her Fiat Panda. And the large woman with the knee-highs: was it her shed that had been broken into, or was she the wheelie-bin dispute with the next-door neighbours?

Milne shook his head. ‘I should never have got involved.’ His voice was about an octave higher than it had been, trembling at the end as if he was having difficulty keeping it under control. ‘I should’ve kept my big mouth shut. What if something happens?’

‘They’re going to be all right, Martin.’ Narveer gave him a wink. ‘Trust me: we’ve done this before, loads of times. There’s a car in front of the house right now, no one’s getting anywhere near Katie and Ethan.’

‘But—’

‘You’re doing the right thing, Martin.’ Harper pointed at the array of clothes. ‘This is for the best.’

A couple of others Logan couldn’t put a name to: a young blonde woman looking over her shoulder and grinning at the camera while Shepherd spanked her; a large woman with a Y-shaped scar on her top lip and a thing for black lace; and a grey-haired lady with an Iron Maiden tattoo all over her back... Wait, was that Aggie? Shepherd’s neighbour? It was. So apparently she did a bit more than just nip in and feed Onion the cat from time to time.

Milne ground a palm into one eye socket. ‘Katie hates me.’

Shock horror.

‘She needs time to adjust, that’s all. Now, come on, get packed and we’ll take you over there. OK?’

He stared at his feet. ‘I should never have said anything.’

A sigh, then Harper sat forward. ‘Sometimes it’s not easy doing the right thing, Martin. Sometimes there’s risks and there’s costs, but that doesn’t change anything — it’s still the right thing to do. And we have to do it, because if we don’t, then everything falls apart and everyone suffers.’ She smiled. ‘Do you see?’