Stuart MacBride - Birthdays for the dead

Enough. I get it. And who the hell was Noah?

How long did that take us?

Donald Kelly isn t on Facebook.

Doesn t have to be. If we re all seven steps of separation from Kevin Bacon, how many steps do you think it takes to find someone posting photos to Flickr, blogging, tweeting, sticking stuff up on any one of a million social networking sites? Might never have touched a computer in your life and youse ll still have a digital footprint.

Sod.

The clouds were getting darker, spreading like cancer across the pale-blue sky.

How s Dundee going?

Nothing more we can do there, so we ve all upped sticks to your neck of the woods. Helpin your divvie mates see if we can narrow the search down a bit. You wanna talk to the guvnor?

Nah, I m good. A tiny fleck of white drifted through the cold air, followed by a second and a third. Not really snowing, but definitely thinking about it. Do me a favour: find out who s been searching for Donald Kelly, or any of the other parents.

On the internet? I m good, but I m not that good. More munching noises. No one s that good. Youse are talkin about millions of servers all over the world and

Well, can t you Erm

What? If it was impossible it was impossible. I stood, stamped my feet to get some feeling back into them. Maybe we should start small.

What systems could you do it for?

Seriously?

Just because it s a pain in the arse, doesn t mean it s not worth trying.

You re the pain in the arse. A sigh.

I ll see what I can do, but I m promisin bugger all. And he was gone.

I headed back along the harbour. The flakes were still tiny, but there were more of them settling on the cold pavements, making it look as if they d been dusted with icing sugar.

On the other end of the phone, DCI Weber sighed. You re a silly bugger, Ash.

I pushed my empty plate away: macaroni cheese and chips lunch of champions. Thanks, Gregor, that helps.

Ash, Ash, Ash, what did I tell you about pissing off Mrs Kerrigan? It doesn t matter if Andy Inglis likes you, she ll still have your

I know, OK? I know. I dropped a tenner on the table, drained the last of my mineral water, and pushed out onto the street. My breath plumed around my head. Who told you?

They didn t put me in charge of CID because I m pretty. I do work things out from time to time.

I took a right, heading back along Main Street towards Henry s house, one hand stuffed deep in my pocket, the other nipping in the frigid air. It s not

Ash, we ve talked about this: while Sergeant Smith is with us we have to be extremely discreet. I don t think getting your house trashed by the local hoodlums is very discreet, do you? What if she decides to have you killed? Do you have any idea how awkward a position that would put me in?

Yeah, how thoughtless of me. What was I thinking?

Wind whipped down an alley, swirling the tiny white flakes into a vortex. There was some sort of bookshop on the other side. I stopped.

You know what I mean. Obviously your loss would be tragic, but it d be the rest of us getting a screwing from Professional Standards. A pause. How much do you owe?

There was a fluffy stuffed puffin in the window. Katie would love that. She might dress like something out of the Addams Family, but she still had every fluffy toy I d ever bought her.

Got to go. Bird-related emergency.

Ash

I ll sort it, OK? Though Christ knew how

The lounge bar at the Scalloway Hotel was busy that evening. I picked my way around a clump of men in overalls, then through a swarm of girlies dressed in pink Stetsons and L plates to where Henry and Dr McDonald were sitting.

Her face had developed a pale-grey tint, like unpainted wood-chip wallpaper, the bags under her eyes a greenish-purple. I put a pint glass full of milk and another of water on the table in front of her. A thin smile, then she puffed out her cheeks and gulped at the milk.

Sitting opposite, Henry took his double Grouse with a nod.

Sally came, so we ordered for you.

I pulled out a chair and parked myself next to Dr McDonald. At least this way if she puked it d be all over Henry and not me.

I was only gone five minutes.

Dr McDonald wiped a hand across her mouth, then put the empty glass back on the table. You re having the lamb.

OK I probably would have picked that anyway, but it would have been nice to get the choice. That was the problem with psychologists: they always had to know best. And did you two achieve anything today? Cirrhosis? Alcohol poisoning?

Henry took another sip of whisky.

She picked up her water. What: you don t like lamb?

Do we have a profile? Vague pointers? Something for the door-to-door teams to look out for?

What s wrong with lamb?

There s nothing For God s sake. Look, do we have any idea what the Birthday Boy wants, or don t we?

She glanced across the table at Henry.

He lifted his whisky as if he was toasting her. In your own time.

Dr McDonald nodded, then toasted him back with the water. There s something deeply wrong about the way he deals with the victims: when he snatches them he should be all excited and wound up and desperate to relive the fantasy again, but he leaves them tied to a chair for two or three days until it s their birthday, I mean I could see a couple of hours delayed gratification, but three days is too much.

Deep breath. Then there s the disposal, there s no ritual to it, no meaning, just getting rid of bodies, I wondered if there was something significant about them being naked

I shook my head. He buries them naked because it s a pain in the arse to dress a dead body. You should try it sometime: worse than undressing a drunk. He strips them when he tortures them, why would he want to dress them again?

She smiled at me, as if I was a small child who d managed to tie his own shoelaces for the first time. Exactly: it s like they don t matter to him at all, you know I think he d put them out for the bin men if he thought he could get away with it, they re irrelevant.

I settled back in my seat and raised an eyebrow at Henry.

He shook his head. It s Alice s show.

If they don t matter, why abduct them at all?

She opened her mouth to say something, but a large grey-haired woman got there first: Two Cullen Skinks and a smoked salmon starter?

Inside, the music swelled the crowd joining in with the three-piece band. Guitar, violin and an accordion doing a Scottish country dance version of Johnny B. Goode, with the occasional Heuch! thrown in for good measure.

Outside it was freezing.

I put a finger in my ear to block out the noise and hunched my back against the cold. What do you mean: he s watching you? Where?

Michelle s voice trembled. We re in Tesco the changing rooms. Ash, he s right outside!

You re sure?

Of course I m bloody sure! A clunk and some rustling, a pause, and then Michelle was back. He s watching the changing rooms. What am I supposed to do? Katie s here we re trying to get something nice for her party, and Ethan s standing right outside waiting for us!

The wee shite. OK: does the changing room have an assistant? Get them to call store security.

Silence. Snow drifted down from the dark sky, shining in the streetlights, thick and quiet. Ash, what if he comes to the house? What if he

I ll sort it. Don t worry, it ll be

When? When will you sort it? Tonight? Her voice was getting higher, the words faster. Can you do it tonight?

I said I ll sort it. Won t be till tomorrow though, maybe we can

Tomorrow? You know what Ethan s like: if he s

I m in Shetland, Michelle, I can t click my heels together three times and magically

You re in Shetland? A pause. I thought you said Katie stayed with you last night!