Stuart MacBride - Broken Skin

‘Well … I …’

‘Fine.’ And he slouched off.

Rennie sank down in his seat till his head was resting on the desktop. ‘Oh, dear God — please don’t bring him back!’

Interview room three was like a sauna. The sun blazed in through a crack in the blinds, striking the back of Jimmy Duff’s head, making his rumpled hair glow like a halo. Which was probably about as close to divinity as he was ever likely to get. Yesterday the bruising had been bad, but today it was even worse: purple, dark blue, green and yellow covering most of his face, like a gaudy, camouflage tattoo. The custody sergeant had confiscated Duff’s broken glasses, so he had to squint, screwing up his blackened eyes, complaining about only being given paracetamol for his aches. ‘I need morphine! Or you know somethin’ a bit … You’ve got gear here, right?’

‘For the last time: no, OK? We’re the police not your dealer.’ Logan settled back in his chair and pointed the remote control at the TV set Rickards had set up in the corner. The picture fizzed and crackled until the DVD player came online. ‘Recognize this?’

Duff squinted at the screen, watching Jason Fettes being strapped to a table and spanked. ‘Look, I’m really in pain here. I need some medication.’

‘Do you recognize it?’

A shrug that ended in a wince. ‘Never seen it before.’

‘No? Well, how come Ma Stewart says you gave it to her: security on a loan?’

At the mention of Ma’s name Duff flinched. ‘Ah,’ he said, licking his broken, swollen lips, ‘if Ma says it, then yeah. I recognize it. Gave it to her. Yeah.’ Jimmy’s unbroken hand stroked the plaster covering his left arm. ‘If Ma says it.’

‘Uh huh. She the one did this to you Jimmy? You gave her a fake name, didn’t you?’

‘No! Nothing to do with her. I … I … Acouple of guys in a pub. Spilt their pints, they … you know.’

‘Sure.’ The second ‘it was a pub fight’ story Logan had heard this week. At least Jackie’s had sounded a lot more convincing. ‘The DVD. Where’d you get it?’

‘You sure I can’t get somethin’ for the pain, eh? It’s really-’

‘The DVD Jimmy! Where — did — you — get — it?’

‘-couple of diffs, some jellies … you know, make it stop hurtin’ for a bit.’

Logan slammed his hand down on the tabletop, and Duff flinched again, trembling into silence as Logan said, ‘If you don’t tell me where you got that bloody DVD from, Jimmy, I’m going to see Ma Stewart and tell her how you’re pressing charges for assault. And loan-sharking.’

A look of terror leapt onto Duff’s bruised face. ‘No! I didnae! I didnae say anything!’

‘ She doesn’t know that.’

Jimmy shivered in his seat, scratching away at his cast. ‘I …’ He looked from the screen to Logan, to Rickards, then to the camera bolted up on the wall. ‘It was this bird, er … woman, you know? I needed the cash. I mean, you know, I’m no’ into it, or nothing, I just needed the cash …”

Logan listened to DI Steel giving someone a hard time on the other end of the phone, threatening them with all manner of horrible repercussions if they didn’t come round and fix her toilet. The inspector slammed the handset down and stuck her middle finger up at it. ‘Well, what did Duff say?’ she asked. ‘He cop to Fettes’s backside?’

‘Thought you weren’t coming in today?’

‘Aye well,’ she shrugged and unwrapped a stick of nicotine gum, ‘Susan’s mum’s up from bloody Dundee and she’s getting on my wick. Told them I had an urgent case on. So: Duff?’

‘We got an address — says he lifted the movie with Fettes in it by accident. Disk was in the DVD player he nicked, along with some jewellery, CDs, and electrical stuff. Said it was compensation for what the householder had done to him.’

‘Yeah?’ She popped the gum in her mouth and chewed. ‘Let me guess-’

‘Strapped him to a table and spanked him.’

‘Same as Fettes.’

‘Identical. She showed him the DVD and told him it was all an act: special effects. Wanted him to scream and struggle, just like Fettes.’

‘Freak.’ Steel tried to blow a bubble, and ended up spitting the gum onto her desk. ‘Fuck …’ She picked it up and stuck it back in her mouth. ‘So? Did he let her fist him?’

‘Couldn’t sit down for days afterwards. So he went back, broke in and helped himself to her stuff. Said it was only fair.’

‘Probably right.’ She stood, worked a crick out of her neck and grabbed her jacket. ‘Come on then, backside in gear. You can grab Spanky while I go to the bog. Christ knows what was in that kebab last night, but it’s no’ agreeing with me.’

‘Ah … maybe we should take Rennie instead, he-’

‘Spanky. Not Rennie: bastard’s on the shit list after that crap he pulled last night with the pork scratchings. And let the PF know we’ve got a suspect.’ She pushed past him, pausing to grab a copy of that morning’s Press and Journal from her in-tray: OLD AGE PERVERT MADE MY WEE BOY KILL! Exclusive.

She was probably going to be a while.

As soon as the door swung shut, Logan groaned. Closed his eyes. Counted to ten. Then pulled out his phone and called the Procurator Fiscal’s office. It rang twice then diverted, probably to the mobile of whoever was on duty this weekend. ‘Please not Rachael, please not Rachael, please not …’ Rachael answered the phone. ‘Bollocks.’

‘ What ?’

‘Er … no, not you, something here. Erm. Look-’

‘ I knew you’d call. I had a good time last night .’

Logan hadn’t, he’d spent the whole evening on tenterhooks, waiting for her to lean across the table and tell Jackie about their curry and snog. ‘We-’

‘ So tonight, I’m thinking lasagne, red wine and a movie. You can bring a bag of salad and something for dessert .’

‘I can’t I … I’m … Look, Rachael, I like you, you’re smart and pretty and fun-’

‘ If you’re about to say “but” you can stop right there .’

‘I’m living with someone. I can’t do this.’

Silence. ‘ I see … So what: I was just a fling? ’

Oh bloody hell. ‘No, it’s not like that, it’s… well …’ Silence. Bloody fucking hell. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘ You need to sit down and figure out what you actually want, Logan. And don’t take too long — I’m not going to hang around like an idiot forever while you make up your mind .’

Bloody, fucking, sodding hell. This was just getting worse, so Logan told her about Jimmy Duff and the woman he’d got the DVD from. Asking for an arrest and search warrant.

‘ You’ve got to be kidding me! ’ said Rachael when he’d finished going through all the details. ‘ All you’ve got is Jimmy Duff’s word this woman’s involved: and he’s a known drug user, pusher and thief. Not exactly a credible witness .’

‘He … look, he says he was spanked, buggered and fisted by the householder. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you lie about to make yourself look good, is it?’

She admitted he had a point, but she still wasn’t going to give him a warrant. Not unless he could come up with something better than the word of some junkie scumbag. And that was the end of the discussion. ‘ Don’t forget ,’ she said, before he could hang up, ‘ I’m not going to wait forever .’

‘Where the hell you been?’ asked Steel, shivering at the back door, hands jammed deep in her armpits, still chewing away on her nicotine gum.

Logan stepped out into the cold, grey morning. ‘We’re not getting a warrant.’

‘Didn’t think so. Still, worth a try, eh?’ She turned and bellowed out into the rear podium car park, ‘Come on Spanky, get a bloody shift on!’