Stuart MacBride - Broken Skin

‘Oh dear Jesus …’ Logan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry — it was like watching someone swinging a pair of watermelons about in a duvet. A figure emerged from Diamond Place, hands in pockets, did a double take and limped past, trying not to look at the woman’s naked boobs. She put them away fast, then she and her friend roared with laughter and carried on up the road and out of sight. Logan ejected the tape, wrote FLASHER on a Post-it note and stuck it to the label. With any luck it would make it onto the Christmas blooper reel, along with all the other idiots who thought it was a good idea to expose their breasts, willies and arses to the surveillance cameras.

He dumped the videos back in the CCTV control room and went home.

Eight o’clock. Logan sat bolt upright, blinking, trying to figure out where the hell he was … In the lounge, on the sofa, something awful on the television, his mobile phone’s shrill squeal competing with the lumpy-looking ‘celebrity’ singing away on the screen. He grabbed the remote and put her out of his misery, then picked up the phone.

‘Hello?’ Trying not to sound as if he’d just woken up.

‘ Logan? It’s Rachael ,’

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, ‘Rachael, hi. I-’

‘ Thought we had a date? ’

Logan checked his watch: eight o’clock, he was supposed to be at the cinema half an hour ago. Which probably meant she was bloody furious.

‘I’m really sorry.’ Why the hell didn’t he call and cancel? ‘I got caught up in an assault case. Didn’t get back …’ he sighed. ‘I fell asleep.’

‘ I see .’

‘Look, I’m really sorry. I was at that call all last night, only got two hours sleep, then it was nonstop all day. Hissing Sid got attacked …’ He sagged back into the sofa cushions, running a hand over his face, trying to figure out how on earth he was going to tell her it was all one big mistake.

‘Believe it or not I understand. The number of men I’ve left standing outside things, or sitting in restaurants on their own … ’ an embarrassed cough. ‘ Well, it’s not been hundreds, or anything like that. Maybe one or two. I mean I’m not … ehm …’ Silence. No doubt waiting for him to make the next move.

‘I’m really sorry,’ he said, stalling for time, ‘look, we need to-’

‘ Damn: hold on, I’ve got someone else trying to get through … ’ and the line went silent. She’d put him on hold.

‘-talk.’ Logan swore, pulled himself to his feet and wandered over to the window, peering out into the dark night. A thin dusting of white clung to the sill, small flecks of snow drifting through streetlamp haloes. The sound of singing, muffled by the double glazing, came from somewhere down the street. He’d just have to come out with it: he’d made a mistake. He was seeing someone, and he’d thought Jackie was having an affair and … no, that would just make Rachael sound like a rebound. Even if it was true, she wouldn’t want to hear it. He-

‘ Sorry, I’ve got to go: suspicious death in Tillydrone. I’ll call you later, OK? ’

‘Wait, Rachael-’ But she’d already hung up.

The street was quiet. Expensive cars lined the road, chinks of light shone out between drawn curtains onto snow-whitened gardens while more flakes slowly floated down from the orange-black sky, melting where they hit wet tarmac, clinging to skeletal trees and the cold metal of parked cars. There was only one vehicle the snow wouldn’t cling to: an anonymous silver Vauxhall, on the opposite side of the road and two doors down from Rob Macintyre’s house.

Logan jumped into the passenger seat.

Jackie didn’t even look round. ‘Wondered how long it’d take you.’ She was dressed in her cat burglar outfit again, the plastic mug from the top of a tartan thermos clutched in her gloved hands.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were watching Macintyre?’

‘Insch didn’t want you blabbing to Steel.’

‘Yeah, because that’s going to happen.’

She shrugged. ‘Not my call.’

He sat, frowning out the window. ‘You could have told me.’ No response. ‘You know what’s going to happen when it gets out you’ve been doing an unauthorized surveillance-’

‘You’re in no position to talk about unauthorized surveillance ops!’

‘And look what happened!’

Jackie turned to look at him for the first time since he’d got in the car. ‘I spoke to Rennie. So don’t talk to me about trusting you — you didn’t bloody trust me!’

Logan hoped to God she couldn’t see him blushing in the dark car. ‘Don’t be ridiculous-’

‘Rennie might be thick as two shorts, but I’m not, OK? I know what you were doing!’ She turned in her seat and slapped him on the shoulder, face creased and angry. ‘How could you think I was having an affair? And with Rennie!’ She hit him again. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘I-’

‘No! You don’t trust me and-’

‘What was I supposed to think?’ Not quite shouting, but getting close to it. ‘You’re never in, you’re having sneaky get-togethers, I heard you on the phone — talking to him, telling him how I didn’t suspect a thing, like I’m some arsehole to be-’

‘Macintyre! How Macintyre didn’t suspect I was bloody watching him. For fuck’s sake! Eight months we’ve been living together, why didn’t you just ask?’

Silence settled into the car.

‘You could have told me.’

‘Yeah, well I didn’t, OK?’ She turned back and glowered out of the window at Macintyre’s house, while Logan sat beside her, wishing he’d never come.

A sharp elbow dug into his ribs, bringing him snorking back to the land of the living. ‘Whh?’ Logan blinked blearily in the thin streetlight.

‘You’re snoring.’ Jackie, still scowling at him.

‘I’m awake.’ Logan sat up in his seat and stretched as best he could in the cramped car. Ending with a shudder. ‘Cold …’

‘Yeah, well, you should have worn something warmer then, shouldn’t you?’

Logan bit back his reply, and checked the car clock instead. Just after one in the morning. ‘Sandy the Snake got the crap beaten out of him,’ he said, going for neutral territory.

‘I heard.’ Silence.

‘Look, if you don’t want me here, just say so, OK? I’m sick of being growled at.’ He opened the passenger door and climbed out into the frosty night. For a moment Jackie looked as if she was going to say something, but it passed, and she went back to watching Macintyre’s house. ‘Fine,’ Logan closed the car door, turned up his collar and … There was a man standing in the shadows, just up the street, three or four cars behind Jackie’s. Shortish, heavy build. Staring across the road at the footballer’s place.

He didn’t know he was being watched.

Logan reached down and gently tapped on the passenger window. Nothing. He tried again. The driver’s door opened and Jackie stuck her head out. ‘Bloody hell, what now?’

The man in the shadows’ head snapped up, staring wide-eyed at them. And then he was off, running as fast as his little legs would carry him. Cursing, Logan ran after him, shoes slithering on the frost-coated paving slabs. Behind him he could hear Jackie starting the car, pulling out into the road for the three-point turn she’d need to get the car facing the right way.

The lurker was moving fast, his shoes more suited to the slippery pavement than Logan’s, as he turned the corner and sprinted onto Great Western Road. Heading back towards the centre of town. But by the time Logan skidded out onto the road, there was no sign of him.

Jackie’s pool car screeched to a halt at the junction, both windows wound down so she could shout, ‘Which way?’ Logan pointed in the vague direction of the traffic lights, and the car roared off.