Stuart MacBride - Dying Light

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be such a let down after all.

The sun was already well on its way up the sky when Logan finally slouched into work at half past nine. Yesterday’s shift had been way too long: eight am on the Tuesday right round to five am on the Wednesday. Twenty-two hours straight. By the time he was climbing the stairs to his flat things had started to get a little strange. His hands left vapour trails when he moved them, and his eyes made whooooshing sounds. Showered and barely shaved, Logan groaned his way up to DI Steel’s incident room, just catching the end of an update meeting with the head of CID.

Apparently every single person they’d detained last night had a cast-iron alibi for the Monday and Friday — surprisingly enough there was no mention of Councillor Marshall or his Anal Adventurer. Whoever the killer was, they hadn’t caught him. When the DCS had gone, and the rest of the team was dispersed to perform the myriad tasks DI Steel had thought up for them, the inspector cornered Logan and told him he looked like warmed-up shit.

‘Thanks a heap,’ he said, rubbing his tired face. ‘I’ve had about two hours’ sleep in the last day and a half.’

Steel stood up straight and peered down her nose at him. ‘So have I, but you don’t see me slouching in here looking like a zombie’s armpit.’ Which wasn’t entirely true. Whatever magic the inspector had performed on her wild hair yesterday, it’d worn off. The suit was still new, if a little more creased than it had been, but the top of her head looked like a frightened mongoose.

Logan stared at her in disbelief. ‘You spent half the stakeout asleep! I watched the bloody alleyway while you were snoring your head off!’

The inspector grinned at him, completely unabashed. ‘Aye? Well, privilege of rank and all that shite. Come on, I’ll buy you a nice bacon roll on the way.’

‘On the way where?’ But she was already gone.

For some reason DI Steel’s assertion that shifts were for the weak didn’t extend to DC Rennie: he wouldn’t be in until later — so Logan had to pick up a CID pool car and drive them to the hospital, expending all his concentration on not crashing into anything. By the time they were sat at the traffic lights on Westburn Road, the lush green jungle of Victoria Park on one side, the wide-open spaces of Westburn Park on the other, Steel was onto her second post-bacon-buttie cigarette.

‘You’re no’ still sulking are you?’ she asked as the lights changed and they inched forward.

‘I’m not sulking, I’m tired.’

‘Aye?’ The inspector eyed him sceptically. ‘How come you’ve no’ asked why we’re going up the hospital then?’

Logan sighed. ‘We’re going to see Jamie McKinnon.’

Steel nodded. ‘Aye. Want to guess why?’

‘Not really, no.’

‘Suit yourself.’

The ward was fairly quiet when they arrived, most of the beds were full, their occupants sitting on their own, engrossed in the morning paper or staring morosely out of the window. Jamie McKinnon had been moved to a bed in the far corner and was lying on his side with his back to the door, hiding under the blankets.

Steel plonked herself down on the end of the bed and gave him a cheery, ‘Jamie, my wee porridge-muncher, how’s it hanging?’ The man in the next bed harrumphed and ruffled his Press and Journal .

‘Come on, Jamie, don’t be rude: you’ve got visitors! I even brought grapes.’ Steel pulled a tube of sweets from her pocket and tossed them onto the bedspread. ‘Well, wine gums, but it’s the thought that counts, eh?’

Jamie McKinnon rolled over and scowled at her with his one good eye. For some reason his bruised face wasn’t healing much. If anything it was worse than before. ‘Go fuck yourself.’

‘Ah, Jamie, Jamie, Jamie... if only I had time. We found this huge dildo last night, but between you and me, it’s a bastard on the batteries.’ She picked up the wine gums. ‘You wanting these or not?’

He snatched them out of her hand and glowered. ‘Nothing happened.’

‘No...?’ Steel faded off into silence, looking over her shoulder at Logan standing at the foot of the bed. ‘For God’s sake get yourself a chair, you look like an undertaker standing there with your face like that.’ Grumbling Logan did as he was told, dragging an orange plastic seat over from the next bed. He was just about to sit down when Steel told him to draw the curtains round the bed.

‘There we go,’ she said when he’d closed them off from the rest of the ward. ‘Much more cosy. Now, Sunshine.’ She poked Jamie in the shoulder. ‘A nice nurse told me you had some visitors last night. And that when they were gone, you pressed your little “help me” button and she had to get your hand X-rayed.’ Logan’s eyes darted to Jamie’s left hand. All four of the fingers were splinted together, wrapped in white gauze bandage.

‘I... fell.’

‘You fell.’ Steel nodded. ‘You fell and managed to break four fingers.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Hit your eye on the way down too?’ Steel pointed at the swollen mass of bruised flesh.

‘I fell, OK? I fell on my face and I put my hand out to stop myself and I banged my fingers.’

‘You sure?’

Jamie suddenly found the packet of wine gums very interesting; he fumbled awkwardly at the wrapper with his splinted fingers before giving up and trying with his other hand.

Logan had a bash at being the good cop. ‘Who were they, Jamie? The people who came to see you last night?’

Jamie shrugged, never taking his eyes off the packet in his hands. ‘Just some people I know. You know, friends, like...’

The inspector snorted. ‘Bollocks. Tell you what, Jamie, I think your visitors were trying to pass you controlled substances. So, just to be on the safe side, I’m going to call a nice man from the Drugs Squad and get him to perform a full body-cavity search on you. Would you like that?’ She smiled. ‘Would you? Nice big hairy man’s hand all the way up your backside looking for a package of fun? Mmm? Big, big hairy hands?’

‘They didn’t give me nothing, OK? They wanted to, but I wouldn’t take it.’

DI Steel’s smile softened. ‘I wish I could believe you, Jamie, I really do. But you’re going to need to give me more information than that. I want their names.’

‘I don’t know their names!’

Steel shook her head, then mimed pulling on an elbow-length rubber glove, complete with sound effects. Jamie’s eyes darted from the inspector to Logan. ‘I don’t know! They wouldn’t tell me! Please!’

‘What did they want?’

‘They said I had to use them as suppliers. I told them I wasn’t doing that kind of stuff any more, I was going straight...’ He held up his hand so Logan could see the bruises in between the fingers where the bandages didn’t quite meet. ‘Then they did this.’

Logan winced. ‘Why didn’t you call for help?’

Jamie laughed painfully. ‘Think I didn’t want to? Big fucker had me pinned to the bed, stuffed a rag in my mouth while his fucking friend giggled and snapped my fingers. Couldn’t even scream.’

‘And no one saw anything?’

‘They pulled the curtains.’

‘You could have said something afterwards.’

Jamie raised his undamaged hand to his swollen eye, touching the puffy flesh with a wince. ‘Said they’d be back. Said they knew where I lived. Said they could have a lot of fun with my sister if I fucked things up for them.’

Steel listened to all this with a thoughtful look on her face. When she was finally certain that they weren’t going to get anything more out of Jamie McKinnon she hopped off the bed and motioned for Logan to follow. ‘Thanks for that, Jamie. Oh, and you’ll be sad to know that some other tart got herself beaten to death on Friday night.’ At that Jamie sat up straight in bed. ‘Nah.’ Steel shook her head. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, we’re treating them as separate incidents. You’re still going down for what you did to Rosie. See, we got the lab results back this morning: Rosie was up the stick with your kid. You knew that. Couldn’t stand the thought of your baby inside her getting poked by strangers’ dicks every night.’ All the blood drained from Jamie’s face and the inspector grinned. ‘You have fun now.’