Stuart MacBride - A Dark So Deadly

Callum stepped right in front of him. ‘It’s over when I say it is.’

‘See, if you actually had anything on me, we’d be doing this down the station, wouldn’t we? You’re grasping handfuls of cloud and praying they’re a parachute.’ He raised his voice. ‘Mr Keen, ready when you are!’

Shout and the creep will appear. Keen slithered onto the decking, holding his clipboard like a life vest. ‘Mr McVey. That’s great. I’ve got the car waiting; we’re all set to wheech you over to the main stage.’ He checked his watch. ‘Don’t want to keep your fans waiting...’

McVey turned and patted Callum on the shoulder. ‘It’s been fun. But if you want to do it again, better get a warrant.’ He sauntered off, pausing only to wink at Franklin on the way past. ‘Later, beautiful.’

‘Mr McVey.’ Was she blushing? She was. Unbelievable.

‘Call me Leo.’ He circled back, took her hand and kissed it. Then turned a wink on Callum too. ‘And I never owned a Range Rover. A lot of my circle did, but I was always a Jag man. You got me confused with someone else.’

‘Who?’

‘Please, Mr McVey, we need to get you over to the main stage, so if we could just...?’ Keen pointed at the door.

McVey put one hand against his chest, as if he was about to pledge allegiance to something, or stifling a burp. ‘“Isn’t my kingdom wonderful?” asked the Bonemonger. “All these graves and mausoleums and charnel pits, just waiting for someone to wake up their slumbering guests.”’ He performed a little bow, then followed Keen out the door and away.

Franklin took a deep breath. Flexed her kissed hand like the fingers were brand new. ‘I’m not sure how I feel about that.’

‘Just because he’s got an alibi for dumping my mother’s head in Holburn Forest, doesn’t mean he didn’t abduct them twenty-six years ago.’

‘I mean, eighteen-year-old me wants to never wash this hand again. Feminist grown-up police-officer me wants to rinse it in boiling bleach.’

‘And what was that bit at the end supposed to mean?’

‘Maybe Pike was lying all this time? He knew he was going to prison anyway, so he’s just causing as much trouble as possible. Maybe he didn’t see anything at all?’

‘He said “the Bonemonger”, so it’s from Open the Coffins . But...’ Callum chewed on the inside of his cheek. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Still don’t know what to do about my hand.’

‘Wash it. Definitely wash it.’ Callum pushed through the door and back into the yurt.

McVey was gone, but most of his acolytes were still there — probably waiting their turn in the car to the main stage.

And right there, in the middle, was Donald Newman, AKA: Donny McRoberts, holding court. ‘Oh yeah, me and Leo: we go back years, innit? See when I was growing up in a home? He visited me, like every week.’ Preening himself. ‘That’s how come I got him to duet on my very first album. Man’s a star, right? Been like a dad to me.’

Leo McVey might have waltzed right out of here smiling, but this sack of vomit wouldn’t.

Callum pulled out his warrant card again. ‘Donald Newman.’

Newman’s face pulled itself to one side, like he was about to spit bile. ‘I don’t know you, pig, but you better not call me that again. The name’s Sick Dawg, yeah? Show some reeeeeee-spect.’

His sidekick folded his thick fat arms. ‘Word.’

‘You visited a Miss Irene Brown two nights ago, didn’t you, Donald? In the black Mercedes your record company pays for.’

‘Free country, innit?’

‘You’re a big man, surrounded by your mates. Think they’d still be your mates if they knew you beat up your ex on Friday night?’

Newman sneered. ‘You can blow your lies out your arsehole, Piggy. Ain’t nobody here buyin’ what you sellin’.’

‘You broke your daughter’s arm three years ago, didn’t you? She was four years old. What was that, a flying visit to abuse her between gigs?’

The sneer became a snarl and Newman lunged forwards, chest out, shoulders back. ‘You wanna piece of this action ? / Man I’m-a put you in traction! / Get my satisfaction from a violent reaction! / My fist and yo face gonna have interaction , / I’m-a beat you down dead , you don’t swear a retraction!’

His sidekick stepped up beside him. ‘Word.’

Franklin looked the guy up and down: the tracksuit, the heavy gold jewellery, the backwards baseball cap, the sunglasses. ‘Nice. Play up to the thick black gang-banger stereotype, why don’t you?’

That got her a laugh that set most of him wobbling. ‘Hey, bitch, don’t you be judging me, / Big Bobby B’s got a master’s degree, / I came top of ma class at M.I.T., / And they taught me for free, on a scholarship, see?’

Newman gave him a fist bump. ‘Word.’ He jerked his head towards the door. ‘Better scram, pig, before I snap you in two.’ Then pumped his chest at Franklin. ‘Bitch, you can stay. I’m-a make an exception for your fine ass. Show you what a real man can do to it.’ He took a handful of her backside, just to make sure she understood.

Ooh... Not a good idea.

Callum cleared his throat. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t—’

One second, Newman was standing there, posing, the next he was facedown on the Persian rugs, with his groping hand twisted up behind his back. ‘AAAAAAARGH!’

Franklin leaned in and bared her teeth. ‘Donald Newman, I’m detaining you under Section Fourteen of the Criminal Justice Scotland Act because I believe you’ve committed a crime punishable by imprisonment: namely making death threats to one police officer and the sexual assault of another officer.’

‘GETOFFMEGETOFFMEGETOFFME!’

‘You do not have to say anything, but if you do not mention something you later rely on in court it may harm your defence.’

His sidekick took a step forwards, but Callum got in the way. ‘I don’t think we got your full name, sir.’

Big Bobby B licked his lips. ‘I’m cool.’

‘BOBBY, HELP ME! GET THIS BITCH OFF ME!’

‘You were there on Friday night, weren’t you? When Mr Newman allegedly assaulted Miss Irene Brown. Witnesses saw you enter the premises.’

‘Ah... Yeah. About that. I didn’t have nothin’ to do with beatin’ on no woman.’

‘BOBBY!’

‘Are you sure ?’

He nodded, setting off a Mexican wave of fat. ‘Totally! That was all Donny. I was like—’

‘YOU DIRTY TWO-FACED FAT BASTARD! YOU SUPPOSED TO BE MY NIGGA!’

‘Hey, suck my balls, Holmes.’ He turned and spread his hands. ‘I was like, “Man you gotta stop hittin’ that poor girl!” and he was like, “No way, this bitch gotta learn her some respect.”’

The circle of acolytes backed off a couple of paces. Staring down at Newman as if he was a stain someone had trodden into the carpet.

‘BOBBY!’

‘Did he now? And what happened to the teddy bear he took from Miss Brown?’

‘BOBBY, DON’T YOU DARE!’

‘He got his stash hidden inside that poor girl’s bear right now. Inna dressing room.’

‘I’M-A KILL YOU, BOBBY! YOU HEAR ME? YOU DEAD, BITCH!’

Franklin twisted his arm a little further till the screaming faded to a tiny high-pitched whimper. She produced her handcuffs. ‘Threats to kill, sexual assault, actual bodily harm, theft, and possession of a controlled substance. Not your day, is it, Donald?’

The yurt door swung open and Keen oiled his way in. ‘Everyone, can I have act-one bands together, please? The car’s...’ His mouth fell open as he stared at Franklin and Newman. ‘What... No... This...’

Callum patted him on the back. ‘Looks like you’ll have to get someone to fill in for Sick Dawg. He has to go take his medicine.’