Стюарт Макбрайд - All That’s Dead

And froze.

Steel was meandering away from them, mobile phone pinned between her shoulder and her ear, leaving her hands free for a big cup of coffee and a Danish pastry. Nibbling and sipping as she went. ‘Did he?... Yeah... Well, that’s what happens when you smear Nutella on—’

‘You!’ King pointed at her. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Oops. Call you in a sec.’ She balanced her Danish on the coffee’s lid, stuck her phone in her pocket, turned, and graced them with a pastry-flaked smile. ‘Just coming to see you, Guv.’

‘You’re supposed to be in Peterhead, interviewing Haiden Lochhead’s cellmates!’

‘No I’m not.’

King’s eyes bugged. ‘I told you to go!’

‘No, you said “someone has to go speak to Haiden’s cellmates”, so I sent DC Harmsworth. He’s a miserable git anyway, might as well give him something to be miserable about.’

He just stared at her.

Another nibble of pastry. ‘I can start recording our conversations, if that makes things any easier?’

‘ Fine .’ He marched past her, heading for the stairs. ‘Then you can make yourself useful: with me. Now!’ He battered through the double doors, leaving Logan and Steel alone in the corridor.

She puffed out her top lip and made a squeaky farting sound with it. ‘He’s always like this when he’s not getting his leg over. See if you can talk him into having a surreptitious wank for all our sakes.’

Now there was a mental image nobody wanted.

‘Do you have to wind him up the whole time?’

‘Part of my roguish charm.’ She fell in beside Logan on the way to the doors. ‘So where we going?’

‘Reception. Anonymous visitor.’

‘Cool. You and Kingy go ahead and I’ll stay here and finish up my—’

King’s voice boomed out from the stairwell. ‘I SAID NOW , DETECTIVE SERGEANT!’

She squinted one eye shut. ‘Or maybe we should just have him fixed? Our neighbour’s Collie went from The Hound of the Baskervilles to Lassie Come Home when they whipped off his nadgers.’

To be honest, it was probably worth a go.

Mhari Canonach Powell was waiting for them by the ‘HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?’ posters — Haiden Lochhead glowering out at her as she fidgeted with her lank off-blonde hair. She’d dressed in dowdy shades of beige and grey, and plastered her face with makeup — foundation, blusher, eyeshadow, and bright scarlet lipstick. The resulting mask almost managed to conceal the bruises that had been clearly visible yesterday evening.

Logan waved at her and she blinked back at him, eyes shiny and pink. On the verge of tears. Then the front door opened behind her and she flinched. Shuffled to one side, eyes down, as a grubby hairy man in a filthy pinstriped suit staggered in and lurched up to the desk.

Mr Pinstripe banged on the glass, his remarkably posh voice raised to a near shout. ‘Hey! Hey you, there! Officer Woman Thing!’ More banging. ‘Some rotten bugger’s stolen my script!’

Logan tried again. ‘Miss Powell?’

‘He’s gone. Haiden’s gone and it’s all my fault!’ She produced her phone and poked at it, then held it out so they could see the screen. Looked like a text message, but the text was too small to make out the words from here. ‘You see? He’s gone !’

King snatched the phone from her. Turning away as she reached for it. Reading out loud: ‘“Don’t expect me home tonight: I’m in Dover. Gonna get the next ferry to France. You’ll never see me again.” Only he’s spelled “France” with an “S”.’

‘Please, it’s my phone...’

King scrolled to the next one. ‘“Why couldn’t you back me up when the police came? Why didn’t you send them away? Do you want them to arrest me?” All caps for that last bit and three exclamation marks.’

Mhari reached for her phone again. ‘Please!’

‘“After all I’ve done for you. I thought you loved me. You said you loved me. How could you let them nearly catch me?” Nearly with two “E”s.’ King’s finger scrolled and scrolled. ‘There’s a lot more where that came from.’

She scrabbled for the phone, but he held it up, out of reach.

‘It’s mine! Give it back!’

Steel sighed. ‘Come on, Kingy, don’t be a dick.’

‘It’s evidence. So—’

Logan yanked the phone out of King’s hands and passed it to Mhari. ‘I’m sorry. Look, we need to ask you some questions. Can we do that?’

She clutched the phone against her chest, and backed away from King. The first tear broke free and rolled down her cheek.

‘Hey.’ Steel held up her hands. ‘It’s OK, it’ll be you, me, and the boy here. Detective Inspector King will wait outside.’ Scowling at him. ‘ Won’t you, Detective Inspector?’

They stood there, staring at each other.

Logan put a hand on King’s arm, kept his voice low. ‘Come on, Frank, she’s not going to tell us anything if you’re there.’

King bared his teeth at Steel, then pulled out his own phone, turned, and marched away. Letting himself through the security door. ‘Heather? Get on to Port of Dover Police and the Border Force — Haiden Lochhead’s trying to hop a boat to France...’ The door clicked shut, cutting the rest of it off.

Good riddance.

They were definitely going to have to have a chat about his behaviour before someone made a complaint.

But in the meantime...

Logan smiled at Mhari. ‘Come on, we’ll have a sit and a chat, and DS Steel will get us all a cup of coffee. And a nice pastry.’

A bluebottle buzzed against the room’s window, banging its head off the glass behind the drawn blinds. Its big black body was a fuzzy silhouette against the glowing white, making it look the size of a small Labrador.

On this side of the blinds a row of locked filing cabinets ran along one wall, a small table, and four plastic chairs taking up the rest of the space — Mhari on one side, Logan opposite, Steel sitting between them. All with wax-paper cups of Wee Hairy Davie’s best Colombian roast and a pastry on a napkin. Mhari’s and Steel’s were fancy apricot-and-custard-Danish concoctions, but Logan had been lumbered with an Eccles cake — because hell hath no fury like a grumpy detective sergeant sent to the canteen to fetch coffee and pastries.

Mhari fiddled with her wax-paper cup, sniffing back the tears. ‘It was... it was like we were two bits of Lego, you know? We clicked together like that and stayed.’ She wiped at her eyes. ‘We love each other.’

‘Aye,’ Steel nodded, ‘I know the feeling. Me and Susan were the same.’

‘I don’t mean to annoy him, or make him angry, I don’t. But sometimes I can’t help it.’

Steel patted her arm. ‘I’m sure none of that’s your fault.’

‘He loved me and now he’s gone and I’ll never see him again...’ Bottom lip trembling.

‘You know what? Some men are just like that.’ She glanced at Logan. ‘It doesn’t matter how good you are, doesn’t matter what you do, there’s always going to be something that sets them off.’ Another pat. ‘It’s not you. It’s never you. It’s something inside them.’

Mhari shrugged.

Logan had a go. ‘Some men are always looking for an excuse to hit someone.’

Her hand fluttered up to the bruises beneath the caked-on makeup. ‘I walked into a door. Haiden always says I’m clumsy...’

Logan glanced at Steel.

She shook her head.

He nodded back. ‘Did Haiden ever mention Professor—’

His phone ding-buzzed in his pocket: incoming message. Then again. And again.

‘Sorry.’ When Logan pulled it out the caller ID ‘IT’S-A ME, TUFTY!’ sat in the middle of the screen. ‘I should probably—’