Stuart MacBride - Birthdays for the dead

No. I mean I know about you.

A pause.

He put a little metal in his voice. And exactly what do you know?

Everything.

More silence.

I have no idea what you re talking about.

No? Is that a friend of yours in the Homer Simpson mask, or did you put the camera on a timer?

Alice raised her eyebrows and mouthed, Homer Simpson? at me.

I waved a hand at her.

ACC Drummond cleared his throat. I see And what do you want?

Guess.

Muffled scrunching noises came from the other end of the phone

Drummond putting his hand over the mouthpiece. Nicola, clear my schedule for the afternoon. I have to go out. Then he was back. Neutral territory: Moncuir Woods, the parking area by the sculpture trail. Half four. He didn t wait for confirmation, just hung up.

ACC Drummond s blue beamer turned onto the gravel driveway and crunched to a halt in front of the garage. He climbed out and scurried over to the front door.

I stepped back from the bedroom window.

The sounds of keys and locks echoed up from below, then the front door slammed shut.

OK. Alice took a deep breath, keeping her voice low. What s the plan, I mean we do have a plan don t we, he s going to

We ve got a plan I reached into my pocket and pulled out the gun.

Footsteps on the stairs: Drummond taking them two at a time.

She stared. Ash, is that Well, of course it is. Alice shrank back against the wardrobe. Is that what happened to your foot, you accidentally shot yourself with your own

I did not shoot myself. I blinked. It s complicated. And it wasn t this gun. I tucked it into my belt, at the side on the left, where my borrowed jacket would cover it. And it wasn t an accident.

You did it on purpose?

My gloves squeaked on the door handle. Are you coming or not?

Through in the study, ACC Drummond was on his knees in front of the desk, hauling CDs out of a black zip-up case and dumping them into a carrier-bag while the computers powered up.

I knocked on the doorframe. Problem?

He jumped, spun around, eyes and mouth wide. His lips twitched, then he scrambled to his feet. You have no right coming in here! This is private property. He cleared his throat.

I m I m placing you under arrest.

Where is she?

I don t know what you re talking about. He squinted over my shoulder. Dr McDonald? I I want you to phone the police: Constable Henderson has become a danger to himself and others.

The walking stick was a good sturdy model. I jerked it up into the air, caught it by the bottom and swung it like a crowbar, smashing the head into one of Drummond s pictures. The glass shattered the ACC and some bloke off the television crashed into the carpet. WHERE IS SHE?

He flinched. Opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Then put on his sergeant major s voice: Officer Henderson, I insist

Another picture exploded off the wall.

Where is she, Drummond?

Alice squeezed past me into the room. You should really tell him, Assistant Chief Constable, he s been under a lot of stress recently, and I don t think Ash is too worried about the consequences of battering your brains out right now. She settled into the office chair. Where s Katie?

I don t know anything about

The cane s head battered into his cheek, hard enough to make my arm shake. He staggered against a shelf, sending law books thumping to the ground. Stood there with a hand pressed against his face, groaning.

Where is she?

I don t

I went for the side of his knee this time and he yelled, then doubled over clutching at the joint. So I cracked the lying fuck on the back of the head too. Blood and hair stuck to the handle.

Drummond screamed and curled into a ball, arms wrapped around his head. I don t know, I don t know!

Alice shoogled the office chair closer to the desk. It s my professional opinion that Officer Henderson is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of what s happened, he s not responsible for his actions, it d certainly count as temporary insanity if he beats you to death.

I don t know where your daughter is!

I held the gun in front of his face, hauled the slide back and racked a round into the chamber. Then stuck the gun against his forehead. Give me one reason, you sick little shite.

You re crazy, you ve lost your bloody mind!

Alice nodded. That s what I ve been trying to tell you. I think it was all your child pornography that finally pushed him over the edge.

It It s evidence in a case, I was only holding it until

The gun made a dull thunk when I slammed it into his head.

Aaaagh Blood seeped out of the gash in his scalp.

You made everyone at the station do PNC searches.

It s not my fault! He covered his head with his arms again, scarlet soaking into the sleeves of his white shirt. He found out about everything What was I supposed to do, let him tell the world? It d ruin my family my wife, my children, my friends

Who found out? I forced Drummond s head back. Jammed the gun barrel into his cheek. WHO FOUND OUT? WHO DID YOU TELL?

It wasn t

I LL BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF, YOU PIECE OF SHITE!

The words came out high-pitched and fast: A journalist, I give them to a journalist! Every year, three weeks before each girl s birthday, I have to give him the family s address.

A journalist

I let go and limped away. Stared out of the study window at the shining street. The clouds ate the sun, and everything went grey and gloomy again. All this, just so some tabloid scumbag could get at the story. So they could doorstep Lauren Burges s mother and ask her what it felt like to know her only child s bones had been dug up in a dilapidated park. Maybe stick a

camera in her face: GRIEVING MOTHER CRIES FOR POOR LAUREN EXCLUSIVE!

I leaned on the windowsill. Who was it?

I didn t have any choice, he was investigating the death of a colleague in Inverness. The ACC coughed. He found out about our little group.

Drummond, I swear to God I will put a bullet in you.

Alice nodded. Temporary insanity.

He s Deep breath. He s called Frank McKenzie; he s a freelance journalist.

No he isn t, he s a fucking photographer on the Castle News and Post I frowned down at the front garden.

Outside Megan Taylor s house when Jennifer and her cameraman were waiting to ambush me Shifty Dave taking the piss: If it s no Wee Hairy Frank McKenzie. Two counts drink driving, and six months for phone hacking. Surprised any paper ll touch you since you got kicked off the News of the World. Relegated to camera boy now, are we?

Got kicked off a London-based paper. London: the only place other than Oldcastle where the Birthday Boy had taken more than one victim. Frank McKenzie: always there whenever we turned around. Every time there was a press conference, or an appeal from the parents, there he was with his camera, recording it all. Preserving it. Soaking up the grief.

I thrust the gun into Alice s hands and lurched for the door. If the bastard moves, shoot him.

Down the stairs my right heel thunking into every step then out the front door, hirpling along, the cane thumping against the wet tarmac.

Shadows lengthened across the street, everything painted copper and gold. I unlocked the Renault and hauled the driver s door open. It was in here somewhere Not in the door-pocket. I knelt on the damp pavement and peered under the seat.

There it was lying next to two empty water bottles, some scrunched-up receipts, an empty crisp packet, and the discarded syringe.

I reached in and plucked the SD card from the debris, blew the dust off it, and hobbled back to the house.

Alice slipped the SD card into the slot on Drummond s laptop. What are we looking for?

You re the psychologist, figure it out.

She fiddled with the mouse for a bit, and a window appeared, full of thumbnail images. Alice scrolled through them: half a dozen pics of a grinning ginger kid holding an oversized cardboard cheque; another half-dozen of a car on Dundas Road with the front end caved in and a smear of what might have been blood on the dashboard; a series of random faces grinning at the camera; thirty or forty shots of the press conference in Dundee DCS Dickie sitting up on the platform with Helen McMillan s mum; a few arty shots of the Oldcastle skyline; and that was it.