Стюарт Макбрайд - All That’s Dead

The thing launched into ‘Space Oddity’ and ‘BEHOLD THE MAGNIFICENCE OF TUFTITUDE!’ replaced the last ID.

‘Oh for God’s... How is he doing that?’ Logan pressed ‘IGNORE’ set his phone to silent and stuck it on the table. Smiled an apology at Mhari, tried to pretend he couldn’t see Steel rolling her eyes. ‘Where were we? Yes. Did Haiden ever mention Professor Wilson to you?’

‘He... didn’t like him. Wilson was always in the papers, and on the telly, banging on about how Scotland couldn’t survive without England.’ She took a sip of her coffee, leaving a blood-red smear of lipstick behind. ‘One time, Wilson was on the Today programme, saying Scotland should be grateful we’re allowed any MPs in Westminster at all and Haiden... I don’t know. He flipped . Started screaming and swearing at the radio. Grabbed it and smashed it to pieces on the work surface. You know? Hammering it down, over and over again, shouting about how this is our country. Ours.’

Steel ripped a bite out of her pastry, setting free a little spray of flaky bits as she chewed and talked at the same time. ‘Was that when Haiden went after him?’

‘He...’ Deep breath. ‘He said he was going to teach Wilson a lesson. I thought, you know, he’ll beat him up, or something. Show him what happens when you moan about Scotland like it’s a diseased piglet hanging off the English teat.’

‘When was this?’

She looked away. ‘Sunday night. I... I didn’t hear him come in again, so it must’ve been late.’

‘Notice anything different about him?’

‘You don’t understand: Haiden had to stop Professor Wilson spreading his lies. He’s a propagandist for the Imperial Aggressors. It’s people like him and the Unionist media that are holding this country hostage!’

Wow. All delivered with the unblinking zeal of a cult member.

Logan sat forward. ‘Did he say where he’d been?’

‘We have to rise up and be the nation again! They’ve kept us down for too long now. We can’t let them...’ She trailed off, staring at Logan’s phone as it buzzed and skittered on the tabletop. The words ‘It’s Tufty-Time!’ flashing on the screen.

‘Sodding... Enough.’ He switched the damn thing off and jammed it in his pocket.

King wouldn’t be the only one getting a talking to about his behaviour.

Logan let out a long slow breath. Stuffed the anger down. Smiled at Mhari again. ‘Do you have any idea where Haiden took Professor Wilson?’

She shook her head.

‘Any idea where he’s hidden him?’

More shaking.

‘Any idea at all?’

‘He wouldn’t tell me.’ The tears overflowed her eyes, little jagged sobs making her rock in her seat. ‘And now... now he never... he never will!’

Logan punched the code into the lock for the door to reception, holding it open for Mhari to shuffle through.

She dug a hankie out of her grey sleeve, blotting her eyes and cheeks. Sniffing as she looked up at him. ‘If you find Haiden, you won’t tell him, will you? You won’t tell him I told you where he was?’

‘Promise.’ Logan walked with her to the exit, Steel scuffing along behind. ‘If you think of anything else, if you remember anything, doesn’t matter how small, you can call me at any time.’ He handed Mhari his business card. ‘And if Haiden gets in touch, tell him he needs to speak to us, OK? We want to stop him getting in any more trouble.’

She nodded. Wiped her eyes again, apparently forgetting how much makeup she had on — the hanky removing enough foundation to reveal the skin beneath. The greens and purples of a well-established bruise. Then Mhari took a deep breath and walked out through the doors.

Soon as they’d closed behind her, Steel sagged. ‘Pfff... Talk about drinking the Kool-Aid. I mean, I’m all for independence, but by the Sainted Crotch of the Hairy Jesus.’

‘Think she knows more than she’s saying?’

‘Yeah. But what are we going to do, waterboard her?’ Steel curled her top lip. ‘Better no’ say that too loud — don’t want to give Kingy ideas.’

Outside, Mhari stopped, turned, and waved at them through the glass.

They waved back.

Her hand fell to her side, then she walked away. Down the stairs and off towards Broad Street. With her bruised face and bruised heart.

Logan sighed. ‘Might be worth sticking a grade-one flag on the house.’

‘Don’t know about you, but see if I was Haiden Lochhead? No way I’d be coming back. Off to the land of burgundy, brie, and baguettes I jolly well sod.’ Steel shook her head. ‘Soon as that video hit? Welcome to Splitsville, man.’

‘Splitsville?’ He smiled at her. ‘What on earth have you been watching?’

‘I’m down with the cool kids.’ A scowl. ‘And speaking of someone who isn’t ...’

King barged through the door into reception, face dark and twitchy as he hurried across the floor towards them. ‘Nine-nine-nine call from Council Headquarters: there’s a suspicious package at Councillor Lansdale’s office.’

That was all they needed.

‘Bomb threat?’

‘Worse. It’s postmarked last Thursday, the day after he went missing. And it stinks of rotting meat.’

And just like that, a bomb would’ve been better. ‘Sodding hell.’

‘And we all know what that means.’ King pointed at Steel. ‘You: get round there and take possession. I want it back here and analysed ASAP.’

She curled her lip. ‘When you say “it stinks”, do—’

‘And no delegating! Take Milky with you: I want everyone who touched that package IDed, interviewed, fingerprinted. DNA if you can talk them into it. Every single one of them gets their alibi checked.’ He paused, but she didn’t move. ‘Go!’

‘Gah... Bloody hell.’ Slouching away, muttering to herself as she pushed out the doors and into the sunshine. ‘Arrogant, condescending, badger-wanking, cock-trumpet...’

The door thunked shut and King massaged his forehead. ‘Does that woman ever do what she’s told without a fight and a serious bollocking?’

‘No. And there’s someone else needing one.’ Well, two someones, but they’d have to take turns. And right now it was DI Frank King’s. ‘What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t seize someone’s phone like that.’

‘Those messages from Haiden—’

‘She’s a witness , we need her cooperation! This isn’t a TV cop show: there are procedures, rules. And I don’t care how much pressure you’re under, you don’t get to do whatever the hell you feel like! You want her phone? You get a warrant, or you ask her permission. You — don’t — just — take — it!’

‘I...’ He pulled his chin in. ‘Her phone’s evidence in an ongoing—’

‘No. You need to listen to me, Detective Inspector: your balls are on the chopping board with this case, all it’ll take is one formal complaint from Mhari Powell for Hardie to cut them clean off.’

Pink spread across King’s cheeks. He looked away. ‘All right, all right. I get it.’

‘Make sure you do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for round two.’ AKA: Tufty’s turn. Logan pulled out his phone and turned it on again. Twenty unread text messages and four voicemails, all with the word ‘TUFTY’ in their caller ID. He pressed the ‘CALL’ button and walked away from King. Grinding his teeth as it rang and rang.

‘Sarge!’

‘Tufty! What in God’s name do you think you’re—’

‘Sarge! Boss! Guv! I’ve—’

‘I don’t care if you’ve been offered the role of Leading Sodding Lady, you’re supposed to be a police officer so start acting like one!’