Stuart MacBride - Close to the Bone

‘. .at it like, I dunno, just arguments and fights and that.’ Clive McWilliams took a long drag on his cigarette, then oozed it out in a slow breath. Smoke curled in the thick moustache and ludicrously long goatee beard. He couldn’t have been much older than nineteen, but he had the facial hair of a Victorian industrialist. The muscle shirt was smeared with blood, as was the black apron and the white wellington boots. ‘She just. . you know, gets under his skin.’

‘And he beats her.’

‘Nah, it was never physical, they’re just that kind of couple. Like to fight. Like to make up. Course, I wouldn’t blame him if he gave her a slap now and then: she won’t shut up sometimes. Other times she just sits there staring at him like he’s Jesus or something. You know? ’

The smell of old fish and spilled diesel wafted across the quay. Off in the middle distance three massive seagulls were fighting over a cod’s head, screaming at each other as they swooped and dived.

‘And are the fights worse when he drinks? ’

‘Nah. . Well, you wouldn’t be able to tell, ’cos he never stops drinking.’

Chalmers looked up from her notebook. ‘What about when he takes drugs? ’

‘What, weed? ’ A laugh. Then the last smouldering stub of cigarette pinged out over the edge of the quay and into the rainbow-filmed water. ‘Not exactly drugs, is it? Just a bit of mother nature’s finest to help a body unwind. God knows where he gets it from, but it’s mint . .’ Clive’s mouth clamped shut, he rolled his shoulders forward, looked off into the middle distance. ‘Not that I would know anything about that, Officers.’

‘Any idea where they’re staying? ’

Clive rubbed his hands down his bloody shirt, then dug a hairnet out of his apron and pulled it on. ‘No idea. But wherever it is, she’s probably winding him up something chronic.’

‘. .and I mean seriously loopy.’ Penny Cooper sucked at her teeth for a bit, staring up over Logan’s shoulder at the secur-ity monitor mounted above the whiteboard. Then she sighed, broad shoulders moving beneath the black T-shirt. Enough gel in her ash-blonde hair to make her look like an electrocuted Jedward. ‘OK, she’s pretty enough, if you like that whole brash perky look-at-my-boobs thing, but still. . Welcome to Freaktown, population: Agnes.’

The bookshop staff room smelled of stale kebab and onions, the microwave buzzzzzzing away to itself on the countertop. Breezeblock walls painted white, and covered with posters for kids’ books and serial-killer thrillers.

Penny peered through the microwave door. ‘Always takes forever, doesn’t it? ’

‘Do you have any idea where they might have gone? ’

‘He’s been banging Stacey the whole time, and Agnes still won’t take the hint. Tell you, I lost count of the times Ton’s tried to ditch her, but she’d just turn up the next day with a litre of voddy and a six-pack of Stella, and that would be that. This one time, he dumped her right before Valentine’s Day and she went out and got his name tattooed right on her thigh. How weird would you have to be? ’

Logan glanced over at Chalmers: still scribbling away in her notebook.

‘So you’re saying he’s a heavy drinker? ’

‘Agnes the nutter drove him to it. Always burbling on about Harry Bloody Potter and Twilight , and that stupid Witchfire book. Seriously, what is she, six ? ’

Duncan Cocker’s cigarette sent a smoke signal into the vivid blue sky. ‘Yeah. . dunno, really.’ He leaned back against the grey harled wall and loosened his tie, tucking the pile of house schedules under one arm. ‘They’re kinda. .’ A shrug rearranged the creases on his cheap grey suit, the fabric thin and shiny, like its owner. ‘You know? ’

Not even vaguely.

The back garden was big enough for a swing set, a slide, and a Wendy house that looked as if it’d been built by a drunken chimpanzee. Lichen flecked the patio slabs. A gas barbecue and a set of plastic furniture lay abandoned in the middle of the grass.

Off in the middle distance, a tractor rumbled along the edge of a field. Rapeseed flowers glowed violent yellow, as if someone had taken a highlighter pen to the landscape. A pigeon whrrrrooooed in the thick leylandii hedge.

All very bucolic.

Logan shaded his eyes against the sun. ‘So he drank, he smoked dope, and he dumped her? ’

‘Well. . they were always doing that. Storming out, “I’ll never speak to you again, you lying bastard.” “Screw you, you mental bitch.” And next thing you know they’re tying each other’s tonsils in knots with their tongues. Even when he’s cheating on her.’

Chalmers stopped scribbling in her notebook and stared at him. ‘And Agnes is OK with that? ’

‘Oh, she makes him pay for it, but basically: if Ton’s happy with it, she is too. Tell you, he’s had dogs less loyal than her, and I’m talking Alsatians.’ Duncan made a little circular motion with the tip of his cigarette. ‘You hear about her tattoo? ’

‘And you’re sure they’ve not been in contact? No missed calls, or texts? ’

‘Nah. Ton’s like that though: man of mystery. Doesn’t like being pinned down.’ Duncan checked his watch, took another puff. ‘Bastards should be here by now. Got another couple to show round at half two.’

Logan moved across the patio, so the sun was warm against his back and not blazing in his eyes. ‘Any idea where they’d go? Ever talk about escaping somewhere else? Down south, maybe? ’

A frown creased Duncan’s thin face. Then he swept a hand outwards at the fields and trees. ‘Why’d you want to escape all this? It’s, like the best place in the world.’

‘They never talked about leaving Aberdeen? ’

‘Sometimes, when he’s stoned, Ton bangs on about how great San Francisco is, but. .’ Duncan leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘There were some Chinatown Triad guys after him: that’s why his mum and dad had to pack up and do a runner over here. The way Ton tells it, there’s this big gunfight behind some restaurant and he caps two of them, but they get his cousin. Bang, right between the eyes.’

Chalmers moved a step closer. ‘He told you he killed two people in San Francisco? ’

‘Pffff. . Nah, shot them in the leg and that. Totally self-defence.’

‘And you believed him? ’

‘Yeah, well. . Ton’s my main man, you know? ’ Duncan shifted the schedules from one armpit to the other. ‘Don’t know what I’m gonna do if he don’t come back.’

Logan passed the brown paper bag over, then settled down on the bench. Sunlight beat down against his cheeks, the sharp salty tang of the sea mingling with fresh-cut grass. Three huge offshore supply vessels were lined up a mile from shore, probably waiting their turn to slip into harbour.

The grass dropped off in a steep incline down to a tarmac path, then a railing, then another steep drop — concrete this time, then a wide strip of pale-gold sand. A mother lumbered along it, following a pair of wee girls that giggled their way to the water’s edge, then scurried away squealing as the waves tried to eat their bare toes.

Chalmers rummaged about inside the bag and came out with a couple of fries. ‘Thanks.’

‘Did you notice? ’

She chewed, swallowed. ‘They’re a pair of nutjobs and they deserve each other? ’

‘Apart from that.’ Logan unwrapped his cheeseburger and took a bite. Talking as he chewed. ‘No one mentioned Agnes taking drugs. It was all him.’

‘Her dad did.’

‘Yes, but did he actually see her do it? Or did he just smell the marijuana on her? Maybe the weed was in her house because she was holding it for her boyfriend.’