Stuart MacBride - A Song for the Dying

‘She abducted and tortured a police-’

‘No skin off my nose either way.’ He marched away down the corridor. ‘Don’t forget: the Shoogly Goose, on Cairnbourne. You’ll love it.’

I stepped back into the room.

Shifty stood by the table, glowering down at the plate with its fillet, frites, and asparagus. A large glass of Shiraz on the side. ‘You know what I had for lunch? Cauliflower cheese. And it was beige .’

Mrs Kerrigan didn’t look up. ‘Yez’ve got a feckin’ cheek, showing yer faces.’

I swept my cane up, as if I was introducing a magic act. ‘Shifty, if you please.’

‘Pleasure.’ He cricked his thick neck from side to side. ‘Maeve Kerrigan, I’m arresting you for the torture and attempted murder of one Detective Inspector David Morrow. You do not have to say anything-’

‘Oh, grow the feck up.’ She picked up her knife and fork and carved off a sliver of steak. Inside it was almost raw. ‘Who the hell’s going to convict me? Yez’ve got no proof and no witnesses.’

I poked myself in the chest with a thumb. ‘ I’m a witness.’

She smiled. ‘No yer not, Mr Henderson, because if ye were ye’d be worrying about yer family. Ye’d be worrying about where yer wife and brother had gone and what was going to happen to them. How many bits they’d end up in.’

‘Think that scares me?’

‘No?’

I gave her a smile back. ‘Shifty, there’s a missing accountant called Paul Manson buried in Moncuir Wood. She shot him. Twice. You’ll find the gun hidden under the floorboards of the old Keenan house just outside Logansferry. It’s got her prints on it.’ I let the smile grow.

She popped the slice of steak in her mouth and chewed. ‘I’ll feckin kill everyone yez’ve ever loved.’

Shifty flexed his hands. ‘On your feet.’

‘Feck off, fat boy.’ She hacked off another slice of bloody flesh. ‘Touch me and yer dead. Yer Ma’s dead. Yer boyfriend’s dead.’

He loomed over her. ‘Go on, resist arrest, I’m begging you.’

‘Ye think being locked up will stop me? Really?’ The fork came up, pointed right at Alice. ‘First thing I’m going to do is get someone to grab yer little psychologist friend.’

I helped myself to an asparagus spear. ‘He’s cut you loose, hasn’t he?’

Another slice of steak.

‘You’ve become a liability. You’re out of control. Abducting and torturing police officers; killing people just because they bored you at dinner?’

Her knuckles whitened around the cutlery.

‘Andy Inglis doesn’t want that kind of attention, does he? And how long do you think you’ll last inside: a day? A week? He’s not going to risk you turning Queen’s Evidence.’

Mrs Kerrigan’s one remaining eye glared up at me. ‘Think Andy Inglis is the only game in town? Lot of people owe me. I know some lovely Russian gentlemen who’ll show yer psychologist bitch a good time.’

‘It’s over.’

‘Is it fuck. They’ll pass her around between ten or twelve of them, till she’s nothing but screams and blood and agony.’

Alice backed away towards the door. ‘Ash?’

‘Oh, and yez’ll like this. There’s a nice man in Perth with a thing for amputation.’

Hot in here.

‘How about when the Russians have finished with yer girl, I let him cut bits off her before he screws her?’

I flipped the snib and pulled the patio doors open. Dragged in a breath of cold afternoon air. The hiss of rain slithered into the room.

‘Would yez like that? Maybe I’ll arrange for ye to be there so ye can watch him hacking away.’

The only sound was the falling rain.

‘Yez’re dead, and everyone ye’ve ever loved is-’

I grabbed her by the lapels and yanked her out of the chair. ‘Shut. Up.’

‘-feckin dead! You hear me? Dead!’

‘Ash!’

A hand on my arm. I looked down, and there was Alice, blinking up at me. Her nose was pink, eyes too. Bottom lip pinned between her teeth. She shook her head. ‘Don’t.’

I let go. Hissed out a long shuddering breath. Stepped back. ‘You’re right.’

Mrs Kerrigan straightened her dressing gown. ‘Now be a good little boy and feck off home. I’ll let yez know when I’ve got another job for ye.’ She grinned. ‘Did ye really think I was ever going to let ye go, Mr Henderson? Yer my bitch. Ye’ll jump when I say jump. Ye’ll kill who I tell ye to kill. And ye’ll fecking like it, cos if ye don’t-’

‘No!’ Alice lunged, both hands out. Took a hold of Mrs Kerrigan’s dressing gown and shoved. Hard .

Mrs Kerrigan’s eye popped wide, teeth bared, fingertips scratching at the frame as she went backwards through the open door, Alice still holding on, pushing .

‘Leave us alone!’

Out onto the narrow balcony, wet gravel crunching beneath their feet. Then thunk , the handrail caught her in the middle of the back.

‘Get off us, ye stupid little hoor!’ She wrapped her hands around Alice’s neck. ‘I’ll fecking-’

Alice slammed her little red shoe down on Mr’s Kerrigan’s bandaged right foot.

Silence.

Mrs Kerrigan’s eyes bulged, mouth hanging open, a string of saliva darkened the silk dressing gown. Then she hauled in a deep breath.

And Alice shoved again.

Mrs Kerrigan tipped over the edge — hands grasping at nothing but the rain.

She didn’t make a single sound all the way down. Not until the final thud, ten stories below.

Shifty whistled, then shuffled out onto the balcony. Peered out at the ground. Water soaked into the shoulders of his borrowed dressing gown.

I joined Alice at the handrail.

A broken rag-doll body lay with its top half on the pavement and its bottom half crumpling the bonnet of a little Ford Fiesta. An expanding pool of scarlet seeped out from Mrs Kerrigan’s chest and head, spreading like paint.

Shifty sniffed. ‘Well, she’s fucked.’

I turned away. Limped back inside and picked my walking stick off the carpet. ‘We need to get out of here.’

Alice stood at the rail, staring down. Not saying anything. Not moving.

‘Hmm…’ Shifty drummed his fingers on the metal. Then nodded, talking slowly, as if pulling the words, one by one out of rain. ‘Oh dear. We appear to have got here too late. Joseph and Francis must have killed her, just before we got here. Oh, for shame… Uh-ho here comes the cavalry.’ He ducked back from the edge, then reached out and grabbed Alice’s collar and dragged her into the room. ‘Come on, you.’

She lurched on brittle legs, still facing the balcony. ‘But…’

I took the napkin from the dining table and wiped the patio door handle clean. ‘Did anyone touch anything else?’

Shifty steered her out through the door. ‘Time to go.’

I stopped on the threshold. Looked up and down the corridor — scanning the ceiling tiles. Then put a hand on Shifty’s back and pushed him towards the lifts. ‘Get her out of here, I’ve got something to take care of…’

Six Months Later

Haar curled in off the North Sea, hiding the headland on the other side of the bay. Turned everything into a pale facsimile. A photocopy of a photocopy, faded and indistinct.

Two figures picked their way along the sand, just visible through the fog, one large in a leather jacket and eye-patch, one small in a stripy top.

A tiny dot of black scampered away from them, then back again, its high-pitched barks muffled by distance and weather.

On the other end of the phone, Detective Superintendent Ness sighed. ‘ And don’t get me started on the trial — It’s like a bloody circus. ’