Stuart MacBride - Close to the Bone

She placed it on the bed and removed the lid. ‘She’s ten weeks old.’

A pair of beautiful blue eyes peered up at him from a little stripy bundle of fluff with impossibly large hairy ears. It opened its mouth in a silent meow.

‘Her name’s Misty, but you can call her Cthulhu, if you like.’

A kitten and a sex toy, all in one day. ‘But-’

Claire patted him on the arm. ‘You’re very welcome. And I’ve got a starter pack from the vets for you at the nurses’ station. Just make sure you take her home before anyone sees her.’ Claire checked her watch. ‘Better get back to work.’

And she was gone.

OK. So now he had a cat to look after.

Couldn’t deny that she was cute. .

He reached in and took Misty / Cthulhu from the shoebox and settled into the chair again. She was like a little rigid ball of fur, tiny needle-sharp claws scrambling for purchase on his shirt. Not the cuddling type then.

He plonked the kitten down on the bed instead and helped himself to one of the bottles of Lucozade, twisted the top off and took a swig. It was warm, but drinkable.

‘I know what you’re thinking, Cthulhu: how did Morgan know where to burn Roy Forman’s body? Turns out that when they were bonding with the coven in Wyoming, Nichole told her all about her misspent youth in Aberdeen, including where she and her dog-murdering boyfriend used to burn the cars they’d nicked.’

Cthulhu padded her way up and down the covers, sniffing things.

Logan frowned at her. ‘No offence, but I feel like a bit of a pillock talking to a cat. I don’t care what Goulding says.’

Samantha sighed. ‘Well, it’s not her fault she can’t answer back, is it? ’

‘I suppose.’ Another scoof of Lucozade. ‘I phoned the architects, by the way. He’s getting the builders organized again. Should start sometime in the next couple of weeks.’

‘Halle-bleeding-luiah.’ She sat up in bed and picked Cthulhu up, one hand cupped beneath the pale fuzzy tummy. ‘Don’t you listen to stinky old Daddy, you’re perfectly lovely to talk to.’

A burp rattled Logan’s diaphragm. ‘Oops, pardon me .’

He sagged back into the chair.

‘Been a weird kind of a day. . After all the sodding about, and the drug raids, and catching Roy Forman’s killer, the ACC says that DI’s job in Peterhead’s mine if I want it.’

Samantha stared at him, her voice jagged and brittle. ‘Congratulations.’

‘What, and spend half my life either stuck on the A90, or never seeing you? Told him I’d wait till something permanent came up in Aberdeen.’

Cthulhu did her silent mew again.

Samantha looked as if she was trying to hide a smile by nuzzling her nose into the space between the kitten’s ears. ‘What about Wee Hamish’s cheque? ’

‘Think I’m going to give it to the guys who run the soup kitchen down the Green. Roy Forman would’ve liked that, wouldn’t he? ’

‘No idea. Never met him.’ Cthulhu wriggled and meeped, until she was allowed back down onto the covers. Then Samantha reached for the copy of Witchfire on the bedside cabinet. ‘Come on, Jackanory Boy: make with the story.’

Logan loosened his tie and settled back in his seat. Opened the book. Smiled. Girlfriend, kitten, and a pat on the back. Maybe things were going to be OK after all. ‘Right, here we go:

“Above the tower block, the slate-coloured clouds crackled with lightning, followed a heartbeat later by a chest-tightening bellow of thunder. .”’

And then, just to round off a perfect day, Cthulhu peed on the end of the bed.