Stuart MacBride - Shatter the Bones

Logan tried to force some enthusiasm into his voice. ‘That’s great.’

‘Don’t you worry: we’ll catch them, whoever they are.’

‘I know you will.’

But right now Shuggie Webster had better be praying Grampian Police got there before he did.

‘What on earth do you think you’re doing here?’ DCI Finnie stood in the doorway to Logan’s office/building site, fists on his hips. ‘You should be home resting…’ Pink rushed up Finnie’s jowly cheeks. ‘I mean … not home , but… You know what I mean.’

He stepped into the gloomy room and closed the door behind him. ‘Seriously, Logan, you shouldn’t be here. You’ve had a horrible shock and-’

‘I’m fine. Really. I appreciate the concern, but if I sit about for much longer-’

You’re on compassionate leave. And that’s an order.’

‘I don’t want-’

‘An order , do you hear me?’ Finnie perched himself on the edge of the desk. ‘Come on, Logan, be sensible. You know you can’t have anything to do with the arson investigation. It’s-’

‘I’m not. Look,’ Logan turned the monitor screen around, and pointed at the spreadsheet, ‘I’m going over the Trisha Brown case. I’m not going anywhere near the fire. I want whoever did it caught and banged up; I’m not going to screw up the prosecution by giving the defence a conflict of interest to scream about. I just need…’ He rubbed a hand across his forehead. ‘I just need something to keep busy with. I can’t sit about in the dark worrying about Samantha any more. It’s driving me mental.’

Finnie sighed. ‘Logan-’

‘I can keep reviewing the McGregor case too. It’s belt and braces stuff, nothing that’s going to get in anyone’s way.’

The head of CID pinched up his face. ‘I understand your need to be doing something, but-’

The door banged open. ‘Are you no’ right in the sodding head?’ Steel marched into the room, waving a rolled-up newspaper like it was a machete. ‘You nearly died last night!’

‘I didn’t-’

‘I was just telling Sergeant McRae he-’

‘Oh no you bloody don’t.’ She turned on Finnie and poked him in the shoulder with her newspaper. ‘I don’t care how short staffed you are, he’s going home. What the hell’s wrong with you?’

Finnie bristled. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector, did I somehow give you the impression I was running a democracy here? I don’t need your permission to decide who can and can’t come to work, understand?’

Wonderful. Logan scrubbed a hand across his eyes, rubbing them until little yellow dots sparked in the darkness. ‘I’m fine, I just need-’

‘Andy, for Christ sake, his girlfriend’s lying up in intensive care. In a sodding coma !’

‘I am well aware what the situation-’

‘Then do something about it! Send him home! He can crash at my place, Susan’ll look after him.’ Another poke. ‘Don’t be a prick all your life!’

Finnie’s eyes went wide, fists trembling at his sides. ‘That’s enough ! If you ever speak to me like that again, you’re going to be on a disciplinary charge, do you understand?’

‘You’re no’ being-’

‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND?’ Spittle flying everywhere. Steel’s chin came up, pulling the wattle of skin beneath it taut. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘DS McRae,’ Finnie shot a finger in Logan’s direction, ‘you will not go anywhere near the arson investigation. You will confine yourself to Trisha Brown’s disappearance and reviewing the McGregor investigation, is that in any way too vague and fuzzy for you?’

Logan shook his head. ‘No, sir.’

‘If I find you even thinking about interfering: you’re out of here.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Finnie glowered at Steel a moment longer, then turned and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Pause.

Steel let out a huge hissing breath, then sagged against the plastic covered wall. ‘Oh thank God… Thought the rubber-faced bastard was going to fire me for a minute there.’ She pulled out her e-cigarette and took a deep drag. ‘You really sodding owe me one: this reverse psychology lark is no’ as easy as you’d think.’

Logan stared at her. ‘You called him a “prick” on purpose ?’

‘Like I’m no’ stressed enough as it is.’ She dumped the newspaper on the desk in front of him. The Aberdeen Examiner , evening edition. ‘POLICE HUNT FOR MISSING SEX BEAST.’

The photo of Frank Baker wasn’t recent — probably hauled out of DI Ingram’s files and issued as a ‘HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN’ poster. A smaller picture showed a huge man with a draft-excluder moustache: Spike, Baker’s friend from the fabrication yard. The one who’d marched over to defend him.

‘“DON’T COME BACK!” PAEDO FRANKIE’S WORKMATES KEPT IN THE DARK ABOUT HIS FILTHY CRIMES.’

Steel flicked Spike in the face. ‘So now we’ve got a nationwide manhunt to deal with, because sodding Green had to go stirring things up. And he’s all, “Look at me, I was right!”… Wanker.’

Logan skimmed the article. ‘You think Baker’s in the frame for Alison and Jenny?’

There was a knock on the door, then Rennie stuck his head into the room. ‘How’d it go?’

‘Coffee, milk two sugars. And get something for Laz too.’ Steel picked the stack of student interview forms off the desk and rifled through them. Then glanced back towards the door. ‘You’re still standing there, Constable.’

Rennie nodded at Logan, then held up a couple of bulging black plastic bin-bags, both sealed with a knot of yellow-and-black ‘CRIME SCENE’ tape — the stuff only the IB used. ‘Elaine Drever says you wanted these?’

He dumped them on the floor. ‘Thanks.’

The constable grinned. ‘Did you hear about McPherson? Apparently, right, he was supposed to come in for a bollocking this morning, and halfway down Union Street he nips across the road, dodges a bus, overshoots and goes arse over tit down those stairs onto Correction Wynd. Broken leg and concussion. They got the whole thing on CCTV, if you fancy a laugh?’

‘And some chocolate biscuits too.’ Steel waved a hand at him. ‘Run along, there’s a good wee soul.’

As soon as Rennie was gone, Steel dumped the forms back on the desk. ‘Here’s the deal: you work till five, then we go home to my place and you let Susan fuss over you. You have a few drams, watch the telly, have tea, brush your teeth, and go to beddy-byes, all where I can keep an eye on you. You’re no’ going back to that manky wee caravan by the jobbie farm to mope, brood, and fester in the dark.’

‘I…’ Logan could feel the heat rushing up his cheeks. ‘Thanks.’

‘Should think so too. Meantime: who torched your flat?’ Don’t look away. Keep eye contact. ‘I’ve no idea. Been trying to figure it out all day, but…’ Frown. Shrug. Nice and natural. ‘Has to be someone I put away. Can’t just be random.’

Steel rolled the fake cigarette around her mouth, the plastic end clicking off her teeth. ‘IB’s running DNA tests on some stuff they got off your front door. We’ll get a match, and we’ll catch the bastard, and I’ll make sure he gets done for attempted murder.’ She stood, rested a hand on his shoulder. ‘You trust your Auntie Roberta: that wanker is going to pay.’

Logan’s phone blared its drunken, sinister waltz. He hauled it out and checked the display: Steel.

‘Thought we had a bastarding deal!’

Logan flattened himself against the two-tone green wall as a huge hospital bed was wheeled past — a pale old man in an oxygen mask staring at the ceiling, his face slack and greasy. A woman in blue scrubs and squeaky white trainers tutted at Logan as they went past. ‘You’re not allowed to use your mobile in the hospital!’