Stuart MacBride - Shatter the Bones

Rennie appeared with a pair of paper bags, the green-and-gold Chalmers of Bucksburn logo going slightly transparent. ‘Macaroni pie, or cheese and onion pasty?’

‘Cheese and onion.’ He took the proffered bag and scrunched it down around the golden flaky pastry like a makeshift napkin. ‘I mean, what are we supposed to do? No one’s going to stick their hand up and admit to kidnapping and murder, are they?’

Steel shrugged, then took a dainty bite out of her pie and chewed. ‘Early days, Laz. Got a lot more perverts to get through.’

‘Yeah, and at the rate we’re going it’ll take us three and a half days, minimum.’

‘Oh.’ She stared at the hole in her pie for a moment, then tore the top off a sachet of tomato sauce and squirted it inside.

Logan frowned. ‘Unless we get the back shift to do some?’ A nod. ‘Sort it out with Ding-Dong. Sooner we get a result the better.’

‘Have you been to the scene?’ The pasty was filled with savoury napalm, almost too hot to eat. He brushed pastry flakes from his fingertips as he chewed. ‘I was thinking of paying a visit later. Get a feel for the ground.’

A lump-faced constable stuck her head around the meeting room door. ‘Guv?’ She waved at DI Steel. ‘That’s the next bunch arrived downstairs, you want me to get them up to the rooms, or let them stew for a bit?’

‘Fuck ’em, we’re eating pies.’ Steel took another bite and the tomato sauce she’d so carefully squirted in squirted out in a blood-spatter, all over her hand. ‘Bastard…’ She licked at her wrist. ‘Where’s the napkins?’

‘I mean, they must’ve checked out the house before the abduction, they went straight to Jenny’s room and-’ Logan swore, his phone was ringing. He hauled it out with greasy fingers and checked the display: ‘UNKNOWN’.

‘Hello?’

‘Hello?’

‘Who’s-’

‘Hello? Can you hear me?’ Doc Fraser must have been fiddling with the buttons at his end, because a series of bleeps sounded in Logan’s ear. Followed by, ‘Logan? You there? I’ve just got the tox screen back from the lab. Thought you’d want an update before I went and spilled the beans to Finnie and his fellow wankers.’

Logan opened his mouth, then shut it again. ‘Er, Doc, are you sure you should be-’

‘Now pay attention: we scraped every little vein in that toe for blood cells and found trace amounts of morphine. The fatty tissue contained a minuscule quantity of thiopental sodium. And I mean a tiny, tiny quantity. Damn lucky we detected anything at all.’

He dug his notebook out of his pocket, pinned the phone between his ear and his shoulder, and scribbled it all down… Taking a rough stab at the spelling, ‘THIGH-O-PENTHAL (SP?)’. ‘Care to hazard a guess?’

‘You buggers never change, do you? At a guess — and this is just a guess — she was given the morphine to keep her quiet. Compliant. It would work pretty well as a sedative. Thiopental sodium, on the other hand, is a general anaesthetic. They probably planned to put her under before removing the toe, but something went wrong. An allergic reaction maybe, or she’d eaten too recently, threw up, and choked… Either way, it was quick — if that’s any consolation — otherwise there’d be more of the drug laid down in the fatty tissue.’

Logan closed his eyes. ‘When?’

‘Nearly impossible to tell. But from the look of it, I’d say it was severed at least six hours after death, then kept in a fridge. Maybe up to a week?’

So Bob was right — Jenny was dead before they’d even received the first ransom demand.

‘The amputation’s pretty good, certainly done by someone with medical training using a thin, fi ne blade. And thiopental sodium is used to knock people out before they go in for surgery — before they put you on the air and gas. So you’re looking at hospitals: operating theatres, in-house pharmacy, neurology, the ITU… Or maybe a vet? I think they use it on animals too.’

‘What about doctors’ surgeries, GPs, people like that?’

‘They don’t get anything stronger than lidocaine. Same with dentists.’

‘Thanks, Doc.’ Deep breath. ‘Can you do me a favour?’

‘Depends.’

‘When you tell “the wankers”, don’t call them that, OK? Just because you’re retired doesn’t mean they won’t take it out on us.’ Logan pressed disconnect, then looked up to see Steel staring at him.

‘Well?’

He told her about the drugs and a smile broke across her face.

‘Right.’ She banged her hand against the table. ‘Listen up you shiftless bunch of jessies — when you’re interviewing your mongs and stots this afternoon, I want to know if anyone’s got connections up the hospital or at a vet’s, OK? Job, volunteer work, friend, family — the lot.’ She stuck two fingers up. ‘Hospitals, vets.’

Rennie frowned. ‘How come?’

‘’Cos I say so. Laz, call Ingram — tell him we need everyone we’ve seen today back tomorrow morning.’ She beamed, then punched Logan in the arm. ‘We’ve finally-’

‘Ow!’ Bloody hell, that stung ! He wrapped a hand around his deltoid, trying to squeeze the pain away. ‘What was that for?’ The skin underneath throbbed and burned.

‘Oh stop moaning, you big girl’s blouse. Barely touched you. We’re actually going to catch the bastards.’

‘That hurt!’

‘Jesus, and I thought Rennie was a wimp.’

The constable paused, halfway through a huge sausage roll. ‘Hey!’

Logan rubbed at his arm. ‘I don’t go around hitting you, do I?’

‘Inspector?’ The lumpy constable hooked a thumb over her shoulder at the corridor outside.

‘Aye, I know.’ Steel wiped her fingers down the front of her red satin shirt, leaving little greasy smears. ‘Come on, Laz, carpe pervertum .’

Bruce Preston (46) — Possession of Indecent Images; Animal Cruelty; Obstructing, Assaulting, Molesting or Hindering an Officer in the Course of their Duty; Bestiality

‘Well, I suppose …’ Bruce Preston shifted in his seat, squiggling his bum left and right, as if he had worms, or an unreachable itch. He was slightly chubby, slightly balding; completely unremarkable in every way, except for the huge collection of photos of people having sex with dogs the IB had found on his computer. Apparently Bruce’s home-made snaps all featured next door’s Cairn terrier.

He gave a huge, overacting shrug, arms coming out to forty-five degrees. The bitter-oniony stench of stale armpits got even worse. ‘But it’s not really the same thing, is it? Besides, I don’t really watch the TV any more. Not since that cow on Channel Five did that “Britain’s Secret Sex Shame” show.’

‘And you’re sure you don’t know anyone at the hospital, or a vet’s?’

Preston rubbed his fingers along his thighs, cheeks flushing pink. ‘Told you — I’m not allowed within a hundred metres of a veterinary surgery or dog-walking park.’

Logan logged the end of the interview, thanked Bruce Preston for his time, then told him he could see himself out.

As soon as the door clunked shut, Logan sprawled in his chair, hanging over the edges; arms dangling, fingertips brushing the carpet. ‘That was fun.’

Rennie gagged. ‘Bloody hell… Mind if I open the window?’

‘Oh, God, please !’

Clunk. And the sound of traffic filtered in from the nearby dual carriageway, the rumble of a plane fading into the distance, the tweet and whitter of birds.

‘Do you think Steel’s right?’

Logan checked his watch — nearly twenty to four. He stretched, then flopped back again. ‘Been rumours doing the rounds about the “livestock” market for years. Kids, women, snatched to order, sold in secret auctions… All we need to do is catch one of these bastards and the whole thing falls apart.’ There was a creaking noise. He looked over to see Rennie slumped in the other seat, arms hanging over the edges, fingertips brushing the tartan carpet.