Stuart MacBride - Close to the Bone

DI Leith groaned. A beige plaster stretched across the bridge of his nose, the skin already starting to darken around his eyes where Ding-Dong thumped him one. ‘Like I haven’t got enough on my plate. .’ He dug his hands into his pockets. ‘Well, as Acting DI McRae found the body, I think he should be the one-’

‘Oh no you don’t.’ Logan glanced back over his shoulder, where the duty undertakers were carrying a stainless-steel coffin out through the front door. ‘This is all yours.’ He turned and started down the track. ‘I’ve got a missing police officer to find.’

Sim scurried up behind him. ‘What now? ’

‘Go home. Your shift finished two and a half hours ago.’

‘Peter’s taking the kids to see that new Disney film. They’ll come back full of caffeine and sugar.’ She smiled. ‘I’d rather be hunting down a murderer than deal with that.’

Logan got to the Fiat, pulled out his phone, and called Rennie. ‘Any news? ’

‘ Found some loose cannabis in the place out by Rhynie, but other than that: nothing. ’

All three houses north-west of Aberdeen and still no sign of Chalmers. And no sign of Agnes Garfield either. . The weaselly little git at Willox and Smith lied to them. ‘Get over to the estate agent’s in Kintore, I want a list of everything they’ve got for sale north of the city.’

‘ But they’ll be closed and- ’

‘I don’t care if you’ve got to arrest Willox for having a stupid haircut, get me that bloody list.’

Rennie opened the passenger door and slid into the Fiat Punto. Then curled his top lip. ‘What smells in here? ’

Logan stared at him. ‘Did you get the list or not? ’

A grin. ‘Piece of the proverbial.’ He held up an A4-sized magazine, with a photo of Bennachie on it and the words ‘WILLOX amp; SMITH ~ THE PROPER PROPERTY PEOPLE’.

Logan took it and flicked through the photocopied pages.

‘They do one every two weeks. It’s separated into areas, and I got Mr Comb-over to mark everything that’s been on the market for more than six months.’

Which looked like most of them.

He passed the property magazine to Sim in the back. ‘Everything north-east of the city.’

‘Yes, Guv.’

Rennie shoogled in his seat. ‘Can’t we just, you know. . beat it out of Duncan Cocker? ’

‘He’s lawyered up. According to Biohazard, everything’s “no comment” now.’

‘Little sod.’

Sim leaned through from the back. ‘What kind of price range am I looking for? ’

‘Doesn’t matter. Just has to be something liveable in, that’s off the beaten track, and been vacant for a while. Goulding says Agnes Garfield likes ruins, so it’ll probably have steadings, or outbuildings, something like that.’

‘Right, vague it is. .’ She sat back again.

What else would Agnes Garfield want? Land? Nice garden? Central heating and double glazing?

Logan frowned. ‘Any churches for sale? ’

‘Churches, churches. . There’s one in Peterhead? ’

Too far away. ‘Anything else? ’

‘Erm. .’ The silence was broken only by the sound of flipping pages. ‘How about this: “Arquarthy Croft, Kirkton of Rayne. Excellent opportunity to purchase a development or renovation project in the heart of the Grampian countryside, within easy commuting distance of Aberdeen. This three-bedroom traditional farmhouse with extensive outbuildings and three acres of land believed suitable for equestrian use. .” They always say that, don’t they? ’

‘You’re supposed to be looking for churches.’

‘Didn’t let me finish. “. .believed suitable for equestrian use. Includes a derelict chapel with outline planning permission to create a four-bedroom family home with double garage. Four hundred and sixty thousand.”’

‘Ouch.’ Rennie puckered up. ‘Soon as it says “outline planning permission” you know you’re about to be screwed.’

Logan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Anything else? ’

Sim shook her head. ‘That’s your lot.’

Did a derelict chapel still count as consecrated ground?

Worth a try.

Logan turned the key in the ignition.

‘ -with gunmen in a four-hour standoff. Sources close to the operation say the suspected cannabis farmers are demanding a helicopter to take them, and their hostage, to Aberdeen Airport- ’

Rennie peered through the windscreen as the wipers squealed their way back and forth across the pitted glass. ‘Still don’t see why we couldn’t take the pool car.’

‘ -flight to Thailand. We spoke to Chief Constable- ’

‘Stop moaning.’ Logan pulled the car into a small lane that disappeared into a forest of identical pine trees, all laid out in a grid, and killed the engine.

Sim clambered around till she was kneeling on the back seat, looking out the rear window. ‘That’s definitely it this time.’

Sodding estate agents and their crappy directions.

Rennie checked his watch. ‘Maybe we should call for armed backup? ’

‘It’ll take them at least half an hour to get here. What if Chalmers is staked out in the kitchen being tortured right now? ’

‘Yeah, but. .’ A shrug. ‘And it’s raining.’

Logan climbed out into the drizzle. ‘Fine. Stay here then.’

Sim clambered out after him.

Arquarthy Croft sat on a small hill in the middle distance, surrounded by billowing golden fields of rapeseed. The house itself was in a rectangular patch of weeds and rhododendron bushes, dotted with about a dozen elderly trees, their branches heavy and drooping. The place was in slightly better shape than the last one, but not by much: a dirty grey north-east farmhouse with gable ends and dormer windows in the sagging slate roof. Off to one side sat a long L-shaped steading. The chunk furthest away from the house was little more than a ruin, the roof caved in, beams showing like ribs on a rotting body.

Sim pointed. ‘Must be the chapel.’

Three stone walls, one with an arched window in it, the rest a pile of rubble.

Logan turned his jacket collar up against the rain. ‘Right, we keep to the tree-line. Sneak up on them from the back of the property.’

She nodded, then handed him the pepper-spray. ‘Just in case.’

Logan stuck it in his pocket, then hurried across the road, over a barbed-wire fence, and into a field of rapeseed bordered by gnarled beech and oak. The thigh-high crop rustled against his trouser legs, filling the air with the smell of honey as he squeezed down the narrow gap between it and the drystane dyke. Soft earth squelched and sucked at his shoes.

Halfway along he stopped and hid behind a wall.

Sim hunkered down beside him and peered between the trees. ‘Don’t see any movement.’

‘Probably inside getting stoned.’

Assuming they were even there at all.

From here the tumbledown end of the steading was directly between them and the house. Blocking the view.

‘You ready? ’

Rennie puffed and panted along the edge of the field, running hunched over as if he was in an American war film. He slithered to a halt and ducked down. ‘Phoned Control and told them we needed armed backup.’

Great. So now-

Logan’s phone bellowed out Steel’s sinister theme tune. Right on cue. He pulled it out.

‘ What the sodding arseholes of cock are you playing at? ’

‘It’s a precaution, OK? Nothing more.’ He skimmed through his phone’s menu and stuck the ringer on to vibrate only.

‘ Don’t you bloody “precaution” me. I’m no’ having another armed sodding standoff! ’

Logan climbed over the drystane dyke, sticking to the edge of the next field — more rapeseed — making for the steading. He dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘What do you want me to do: sit on my backside waiting for you to turn up with the gun brigade? That’ll make great headlines, won’t it: “Police waste time while female officer is tortured to death.”’