Stuart MacBride - Close to the Bone

‘Bloody European Court of Human Rights. No , you can’t do things the sensible way any more, the way they’ve been done for years, now you’ve got to have the scumbag’s slimy lawyer mouthpiece in the room when you interview them. As if the job wasn’t difficult enough as it is.’ He rammed a cheese-and-onion corpse in the bin, then a Mars Bar, pickled-onion Monster Munch, beef-and-tomato. ‘And people wonder why Scotland has a reputation for the unhealthiest diet in Europe. .’

‘Hold on, I’ll get it up.’ She ejected one tape and replaced it with another.

No way he was touching the used hankies with his bare hands. Just because the viewing suite was on the ground floor, right across the corridor from the CCTV room — manned twenty-four hours a day — it didn’t mean some filthy sod wasn’t in here wanking themselves ragged to footage of drunken Friday-night girlies flashing their boobs at the cameras.

He plucked a biro from the desk and used that to hook them into the bin instead.

‘Here we go. .’

Logan looked up to see a queue of three people, distorted by the cash-machine camera’s fisheye lens. First up was a wee man with a hoodie, a leather jacket, and a bobble hat — even though it was the middle of May. Behind him was a woman, looking back over her shoulder every three or four seconds, as if someone might be after her. The person behind her was a dick in a suit, making a big show of checking his watch every fifteen seconds: don’t you know how important I am?

Logan shook his head. ‘It’s the wrong footage. Where’s Anthony Chung? ’

Bobble-hat-and-hoodie took his money and walked away out of shot. Little Miss Nervous took his place.

Chalmers pressed pause. ‘According to the Clydesdale Bank, this is the transaction from Anthony Chung’s debit card. Two hundred and sixty pounds.’

Little Miss Nervous had far too much makeup on, ginger hair exploding out from underneath a baseball cap with ‘ Witchfire ’ embroidered into it. Her heart-shaped face was slightly out of focus, the layers of mascara and black eye-shadow giving her eyes a serious Tim Burton vibe.

Logan frowned at the screen. ‘Is that-’

‘She’s dyed her hair, the glasses have gone, and she’s lost a bit of weight, but it’s definitely her.’

Agnes Garfield.

‘What’s she doing with Anthony Chung’s debit card? ’

Chalmers pressed play. ‘Getting some cash out for him? Maybe she’s got none of her own, so they’re living off his? ’

‘Two hundred and sixty’s a lot of cash to get out at one time. They’re going somewhere, or buying something big. .’

‘Not enough for plane tickets, too much for train tickets. And if she was clearing his account out, why not withdraw the full three hundred? Bank says he’s still got another three and a half grand.’

Logan dumped the biro in the bin with the suspicious tissues. ‘Two sixty would buy you a reasonable quantity of weed. She left hers at home.’

‘We followed her through the CCTV from Markies, Union Street, Schoolhill, then she disappears down some steps beside the theatre. There’s nothing else on camera.’

‘GSM trace? ’

She flashed her teeth in a quick grimace. ‘Sorry, Guv, we’re getting nothing on Anthony or Agnes’s phone. They’ve either got their mobiles switched off, they’re out of battery, or they’ve ditched them. Control are keeping an eye on it — if there’s any activity they’ll let us know.’

So much for a quick and easy result. ‘Anthony Chung: he’s got a car, hasn’t he? ’

‘Nissan Skyline. The insurance must be costing his parents a fortune.’

‘Get a lookout request on it.’ Logan nudged the wastepaper basket back where it came from. Just have to do this the old-fashioned way. ‘Right, someone’s got to know where they’re staying, so-’

‘I’ve put together a list of Agnes and Anthony’s friends.’ She flipped open her notebook and held it out. The page was covered with names and addresses. ‘And I’ve booked out a pool car for the rest of the day.’

He smiled. ‘Then let’s go see who’s in the mood for squealing.’

‘Yeah, we were like, you know, completely best friends.’ Dan Fisher leaned against the countertop, stringy tattooed arms poking out from the short sleeves of his crumpled shirt with the pub’s name embroidered onto it. ‘Ton and me was like. . Han and Chewie, right? ’

‘Were? ’ Logan settled onto the bar stool. ‘Past tense? ’

‘Yeah. .’ A shrug. The lobe of Dan’s left ear was stretched around a hollow cylinder, big enough to poke a tube of Smarties through. Three silver hoops above that, one more through his nose, and a stud in his bottom lip like a metal cold sore. Black hair, collar-length on one side and shaved to the scalp on the other. ‘We kinda fell out a bit. You know, with Rowan and everything. He was all,’ Dan put on a broad American accent, cranking up the volume, ‘“She’s a Goddamned nympho in the sack, you ain’t gonna believe what she did last night. .” Always boasting, and I. .’ He bit his bottom lip. ‘I didn’t think he should treat her like that.’

Chalmers flipped to the next page in her notebook, pen at the ready. ‘Rowan? ’

A nod. ‘Yeah, she doesn’t like being called Agnes. Can’t blame her, right? Stupid name.’

‘And that’s why you fell out with Anthony Chung? ’

Dan pulled out a smartphone and poked at it for a moment, then held it out. Grainy camera footage flickered across the screen. A group of young men and women in a pub somewhere, everything stained satsuma orange by the indoor lighting. Laughter crackled out of the little speaker, and the picture moved in on a couple snogging in the corner of the booth. His hair was longer than hers, black and shiny, hers was brown, wavy, pulled back in a ponytail. He slipped a hand up the front of her T-shirt. And then the kissing stopped and she jerked away from him.

It was Agnes Garfield, though not as pretty in pixelvision as she was in the ‘HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WOMAN? ’ posters. ‘ Damnit, you’ve got to let it heal!’ She slapped him hard enough to make his sunglasses fly off. ‘ Bastard!’ And then she was off, shoving out of the booth and stomping out of shot.

Silence. Then the guy picked up his glasses and hurried after her. ‘ Rowan, please, come on, I didn’t mean it. . ’ Everyone else laughed.

Dan pressed stop, then put the phone away. ‘Only just had it pierced.’

‘And that was a regular occurrence.’

‘At least twice a week. She’s a great girl. Bit screwed up, but she completely dotes on him — even though he treats her like crap. Screwing around behind her back, pissed and stoned all the time, telling her it’s her fault and she makes him do it. And she just takes it, forgives him, lets him get away with it.’ Dan fiddled with the big hole in his ear. ‘You know what happened on Valentine’s Day? He made her get his name tattooed on her thigh. I mean, tattoos are cool and everything, but he was just marking his territory, right? Can you believe that? Wanker.’ Dan coiled one hand into a fist. ‘But she doesn’t see it, you can’t talk to her any more. .’

Logan took a sip of his water. ‘So you fought.’

‘Yeah. .’ Dan opened his mouth, stuck a finger under his top lip and lifted, showing off a gap where a tooth should have been. ‘Got in a couple of decent punches, but Ton’s like a bloody ninja, isn’t he? ’

‘And let me guess, Agnes wasn’t exactly grateful you’d stood up for her? ’

‘Came round that night and kneed me in the nads.’ He looked off down the bar, where a pair of huge women were bellowing out Sid James laughs, cleavage all a-wobble. ‘How could she let him treat her like that, you know? I would’ve looked after her. .’