Stuart MacBride - The Missing and the Dead

‘Oh … But I got steak for tea.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ He picked at a scar in the desktop, working his nail under the laminate. ‘How did you get on with the living room?’

‘We were going to have chips and mushrooms and onion rings.’

‘You’re talking to a man who’s lived on lentil soup for the last four weeks. Believe me: I’m really, really sorry.’

The Sergeants’ Office door opened and a scowling Steel slumped in and pulled a face like a dying fish. Then shuffled over and collapsed into the chair on the other side of the desk in an avalanche of grunts and groans. ‘Knackered.’

Helen’s voice took on a brittle cheerfulness. ‘Well, not to worry: we’ll have steak tomorrow. I’ll make something else.’

Steel had a dig at an armpit. ‘Haven’t got any crisps, have you?’

Logan swivelled his chair around till his back was to her. ‘OK, well, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.’

‘Suppose I’ll go back to the painting then …’

He hung up and slipped the phone back in his pocket.

A sniff. ‘Come on then, who was that?’

‘Just a … witness to a case. Fly-tipping. Nothing serious.’ He swivelled round again. ‘How did it go?’

The dying fish finally gave up the ghost. ‘Lucky for me, Napier’s already up here, isn’t it? Saved me having to go all the way down to Aberdeen for my bollocking.’ She drooped even further, head back, staring up at the fluorescent lights. ‘If I’d known she was Alex instead of him …’

Hindsight. Got to love it.

‘You might want to get a lift back to Banff with Deano. I’m going to be here for a bit.’ Logan logged on to the computer.

‘And because that’s not enough: Susan can’t get here till tomorrow. She’s got her lump of a mum visiting. I swear, soon as I leave the house that woman swoops in like a frumpy vulture. Digging her beak in.’ Steel grimaced at the ceiling tiles. Silence. ‘You know what we should do, Laz? We should hit the town. Get some pints, then a curry, then more pints. And to hell with Napier, and Alex Williams, and Susan’s horrible mum, and everyone else.’

‘Can’t: got a division to run.’

She waved a hand at him. ‘You used to be more fun …’ Then blew a wet raspberry. ‘On second thoughts, you’ve always been a miserable git.’

‘Feel free to sod off any time you like.’ He pulled up the shift roster for Saturday’s lateshift and wrote everyone’s name and shoulder number down in the A4 hardback notepad he’d lifted from the stationery cupboard, listing each of them by operational area. It was nearly half four now, so they’d start drifting into their various stations in fifteen minutes, ready to start another fun Saturday evening arresting drunks, breaking up fights, and stopping people from peeing in doorways.

Yeah, divisional policing was where all the cool kids were.

Steel pulled out her fake cigarette and poked it in her mouth. ‘You hear about DS “Squirty” Dawson?’

Logan cleared his throat, kept his eyes on the notepad. ‘Still in hospital.’

They had four PCs in Banff and another two in Mintlaw. Should be six in Peterhead, and four in Fraserburgh, but that included the two officers needed to watch each cellblock, so really only four and two. For a Saturday night.

If anyone had any idea how few police officers they had to look after huge tracts of Scotland, there’d be panic in the streets.

Steel dug a hand into her armpit and had a rummage. ‘Picture him up there, getting sponge-baths from all those lovely nurses. Lucky sod.’

‘Believe it or not, a stay in hospital isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’

So, two officers from Banff to Fraserburgh? Or one to Fraserburgh and one to Peterhead?

‘The doctors did that palpitating thing to his stomach when he wouldn’t stop exploding. Found a lump.’

Maybe one from Mintlaw to Peterhead, and one from Banff to Fraserburgh instead? Bit more fair. Everyone would be one body down, and it wasn’t as if Mintlaw was a hotbed of … Wait a minute. ‘They found a lump ?’

‘Cancer. Caught it just in time to do something about it.’ She nodded, took a long draw on her e-cigarette. ‘Tell you, Laz, never mock a dodgy kebab, it could save your life.’

Silence.

Steel squinted at him. ‘You feeling OK? Only you look like someone’s stuffed a Kinder Surprise up your bum.’

He closed his mouth with a click. Blinked. Smiled. ‘Yes. Good. Well, that’s great news, isn’t it? Dose of the squits saved his life. Excellent.’

At least now Nicholson could stop feeling guilty.

Steel laced her hands behind her head. ‘OK, so if you knew you could get away with it, how would you kill Napier the Ginger Whinger?’

Logan went back to his notepad. ‘Thought you had a little girl’s murder to solve?’

‘I think I’d go for a claw-hammer. I know, I know: it’s a trope of the genre, but would you no’ get a load more satisfaction battering his brains out than stabbing him?’

‘You’ve got no idea what you’re doing on that case, do you?’

‘Stabbing’s for wee boys and tossers. Claw-hammer, that’s a real woman’s weapon.’ She raised her arm above her head and mimed raining hammer blows down on an imaginary Napier. ‘Bang, thunk, thud, crack, splinter, squish, squelch-’

‘You know Helen … Mrs Edwards is probably sitting somewhere, eating her nails down to the elbow, while you’re here playing silly buggers?’

Steel sighed, then placed her invisible hammer on the desk. ‘What are we supposed to do?’ She counted each thing off on her fingers. ‘There’s no trace, there’s no DNA, there’s no witnesses, and we don’t know who she is. If we can find the murder weapon they can probably match flakes of metal to the wound in her scalp, but that’s sod all use if we’ve no idea where it is.’

‘But-’

‘The only suspect we’ve got is Neil Wood, and he’s vanished. You’re right, other than tramping round the stots and nonces again and rattling their teeth till someone talks, I’ve no’ a sodding clue.’ She folded her arms and hoicked up her bosom. ‘Come on then, Angela Lansbury, tell us what you’d do.’

Silence.

Logan bit his bottom lip. Stared down at the point of his pen. ‘Well …’

‘Aye, no’ so easy, is it?’

‘National appeal for-’

‘Done it. Got the nutters out in force, that one.’ She jerked her chin up. ‘Anything else?’

‘How about tidal patterns? You could predict where the body-’

‘Already got a team of marine biologists from Aberdeen University doing it. Next?’

Logan tapped his pen against his pad. Looked out of the window. Then down at the carpet. ‘Someone has to know where Neil Wood is.’

‘And we’re back to rattling sex offenders again.’ Steel huffed out a breath. ‘Face it, we’re going round in circles till we get a break. God knows where it’s going to come from, though.’

‘All units, be on the lookout for a stolen poodle taken from outside the Lidl in Peterhead. Answers to the name of “Knitted Doug”.’

She checked her watch. ‘All this achieving sod all is making me hungry. When’s dinner?’

‘There has to be something we can do.’

‘Soon as you think what it is, let me know and I’ll take the credit.’

Someone walked past outside, setting the floorboards singing. Logan put ticks against each member of the Banff lateshift in his new notepad. Pressed the talk button again. ‘OK, thanks, Joe. I’m going to be out and about for most of the night, but give me a shout if you need anything.’