Stuart MacBride - Shatter the Bones

‘Sorry, Sarge.’ Rennie rubbed his hands together. ‘So, come on — who were you winding up?’

‘Jesus, I bloody hate students. Bunch of animals…’ Bob had a scratch at his pelt, then nodded at Rennie. ‘Constable, what a happy coincidence! I’ve got a big list of tosspots who need interviewed.’

Rennie shook his head. ‘Sorry, Guv, but I’m officially DS McRae’s minion till Friday. We’re grilling Alison McGregor’s classmates. McRae and Rennie, at the ready!’

Bob raised his arms to the sky, then let them fall back to his sides with a theatrical groan. ‘Logie, you’ll let me borrow the loon, won’t you?’

‘Nope. Soon as we’re done here we have a nationwide search on historic kidnappings to wade through.’

‘Aw, come on — we could divvy up Bruce’s mates. Three of us, we’d get through them in no time.’

‘Goodbye Bob…’ Logan took a step away, then stopped, turned, and went back to the car. ‘You might want to keep an eye on one Tanya “Tiggy” Marsden. According to Craig Peterson she was Bruce’s girlfriend, but she says they were just friends.’

Bob raised one side of his monobrow. ‘Oh aye, trying to distance herself after the fact? Think she’s his dealer?’

‘Doubt it.’ Logan told him about Stumpy the Dwarven Queen.

A grimace. ‘That’s sod all use…’ The grimace turned into a smile. ‘Still, at least it takes the source off our patch — I can fob it off on Tayside. I was going to renege on buying you that pint, but I’ve changed my mind. Now lend us the wee loon here, and I’ll throw in a packet of crisps.’

Logan looked back up at the block of student flats. Someone was staring back down at them. Craig Peterson, stroking his billy-goat beard. Logan made a gun from his thumb and forefinger, pointed it at Peterson, then shot him in the face.

Logan made a special point of checking up on Peterson’s alibi. Adrian Kerr: MSc E-Commerce Technology; posters of The Muppet Show, China Town , a football team composed of half-naked women. Nicholas Tawse: Psychology; Citizen Kane , Che Guevara, Monty Python’s Flying Circus.

They both backed up Peterson’s story — of course — but it was still fun to make the stuck-up little sods squirm. Petty, but fun.

Logan met up with Rennie back in the car park.

‘Anything?’

‘Thought a couple were a bit dodgy — one was trying to hide a home-made bong, the other got all gooey-eyed every time I mentioned Alison and Jenny’s names. Swear to God, she had a shrine to them above her bed. Newspaper clippings, magazine articles, signed photos, the lot. I think there was a lock of hair too.’

‘Hair?’

‘Not, like a scalp or anything.’

‘Nobody else?’

‘Nah, mostly they’re just students. Bit of weed, bit of booze, bit of studying, bit of pining away in their rooms wondering why nobody wants to shag them.’

‘Right, let’s go pay Alison and Jenny’s biggest fan a visit.’

Good God… Rennie hadn’t been kidding — there really was a shrine above Beatrice Eastbrook’s bed. Right in the middle of the wall was an amateurish watercolour portrait of Alison McGregor, Jenny sitting on her knee. Alison had a tinfoil halo that glimmered in the light of two big church candles, arranged either side of a lock of curly blonde hair in a little glass box, tied with a black ribbon and a sprig of heather. Just like the one on Alison’s photo of her dead husband.

Around the icon, a sea of newsprint and magazine articles spread out like a tumour. ‘MY SECRET FEARS FOR JENNY — WILL FAME DESTROY HER CHILDHOOD?’, ‘NORTH-EAST MUM THROUGH TO BNBS SEMI-FINAL’, ‘ALISON’S SECRET SCHOOLGIRL SHAME: “I WAS A TEENAGE TEARAWAY”, ADMITS BNBS SEMI-FINALIST’, ‘SHE’S NO ANGEL — THE SKELETONS LURKING IN ALISON MCG’S CLOSET’…

That last one had a photo of Victoria Murray, AKA Vicious Vikki, on it, her face scrubbed out with angry red biro, until the paper was tattered and sliced through, the word ‘LIAR!!!’ scrawled across the article over and over again.

And around the edge, a series of glossy photos — the kind you could get printed at pretty much any supermarket these days.

No posters: there wasn’t room.

Beatrice Eastbrook would probably have looked like a perfectly normal person a year ago. But… She’d dyed her hair blonde, and had it curled to look exactly like Alison McGregor’s. Her make-up was exactly like Alison McGregor’s. Her clothes were exactly like Alison McGregor’s, right down to the shoes.

Probably had a tinfoil-lined hat lying about the place somewhere too.

She twirled the hair behind her ear. ‘Of course I didn’t hurt them, why would I hurt them? I love them.’ The accent was hard to place, a weird mix of Birmingham and Aberdeen — as if it wasn’t enough to look like Alison McGregor, she was trying to sound like her too. ‘Alison was … is — fantastic. A superstar. I mean, can you imagine it, someone like that living in Aberdeen, and I know her. She talked to me, like a real person.’

‘And you’ve no idea who might have taken her?’

Beatrice’s eyes narrowed. ‘If I did, I’d kill them. I’m not joking — I’d literally kill them. Strangle them with my own hands. They cut off Jenny’s toes! What kind of bastard cuts off a little girl’s toes?’ She sank back onto the bed and shuffled back, feet on the duvet, knees against her chest. ‘You know what, when you catch them, you should cut off their toes, like in the Bible. Cut them all off and see how they like it.’

‘Did you see anyone strange hanging around her, before she went missing? Trying to talk to her?’ Other than yourself, of course, you card-carrying nutjob.

‘I don’t remember. Not that I noticed. Well, you know it was always pretty busy, with the photographers hounding her all the time and those bitches pretending to be her friend, just so they could get in the papers. I never did that…’

Logan nodded. ‘What did she think of your new look?’

A frown. ‘Well, she was flattered, obviously. Said I looked lovely. She’s a very generous and giving person.’

‘And she didn’t mind when you followed her home?’ Standing at the door, Rennie opened his mouth, but Logan held up a hand.

‘I…’ Beatrice blushed. ‘I don’t know what you-’

‘The photos around the outside of your mural.’ He pointed at the glossy pics. ‘That’s Alison’s and Jenny’s house in Kincorth. Look, there’s Alison putting the recycling out.’

‘I… It was only once.’

‘And there she is taking Jenny to school. And in that one Jenny’s wearing a tutu. Off to dance classes?’

Beatrice rested her head on her knees, speaking into the little hidden gap between them and her chest. ‘I wasn’t hurting anyone.’

Logan put his notebook down on the desk. ‘Did you see who took Alison and Jenny?’

When she looked up, her eyes glittered with tears. ‘I just wanted to be her friend . A real friend, not like those two-faced bitches.’

‘Did you see who took them, Beatrice?’

‘She’s someone special. She’s famous — she’ll leave a mark on the earth that says she was here. I’m never going to be famous. Don’t matter if I live or die, does it? Don’t matter if I was never even born. I just thought, if she could see we had so much in common, we could be friends. I just wanted her to like me…’

‘It’s OK, Beatrice, I understand.’ Logan picked up his notebook and stood. ‘Now, if it’s all right with you, we’d like to search your room. Is that OK?’

She wiped her eyes, then looked up at the lock of hair in its little glass box. Licked her lips. ‘What do you think they’ll do with Jenny’s toes?’