Stuart MacBride - Close to the Bone

Logan backed up a step. ‘A brown envelope, seriously? ’

‘If you’re inferring that it contains a bribe, you’re mistaken. The contents should be self-explanatory, but if you’re feeling challenged by any aspect, you can always contact my office and make an appointment.’ He clicked his briefcase shut again. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, our time is up.’

Logan stared down at the pair of envelopes. ‘What is it then, blackmail? ’

A small smile slithered around Hissing Sid’s mouth. ‘For blackmail to be effective, the target has to have done something wrong. Otherwise there would be nothing to blackmail them about. Have you done something wrong, Acting Detective Inspector? ’

He backed off another step. The door handle pressed into the base of his spine. ‘Of course not.’ At least, nothing that Hissing Sid could have found out about. . Could he?

‘Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? ’

‘But what-’

‘DI McRae, do you have any idea how much my services cost per hour? While my client had cleared me to brief you on the contents of these envelopes, you kept me waiting so long that the allocated time is now gone. And as my client is an old family friend I am unwilling to charge him more to make up for your tardiness.’

‘But-’

‘Make an appointment with my office.’ Then Hissing Sid stood, staring at Logan with expressionless grey eyes. ‘Now, if you don’t mind. .? ’

Logan stepped to the side and let him out.

Hissing Sid limped across reception and out through the front doors into the sunny afternoon.

Back in the reception room, Logan closed the door. Two envelopes from a ‘family friend’ of Sandy Moir-Farquharson. Didn’t take a genius to tell who that meant: Wee Hamish Mowat.

Maybe it was a bribe after all — drop the charges against Reuben, and all this could be yours. .

Logan picked the envelopes up. Weighed them in his hand. Or maybe-

A bang on the door and he flinched hard enough to jump a foot to the right. Then stood there, pulse throbbing in his ears, making his arms itch.

Steel’s voice blared through the wood. ‘Come on, get a shift on: there’s fresh porn getting all cold!’

Logan stuffed the envelopes into his pocket. Well, it wasn’t as if he could just leave them lying about, was it? God knew what was inside. .

‘. .and we’re making substantial progress with the enquiry.’ Steel slouched in the passenger seat, one foot up on the dashboard, one arm dangling out of the car window, mobile phone jammed between her ear and her shoulder as she rearranged her bra.

The security guard was a lump of muscle squeezed into a brown polyester shirt. He peered in at Logan, then over at Steel — just in time to catch her digging about in her cleavage with her spare hand.

The guard frowned. ‘You sure she’s police? ’

‘Wish I wasn’t.’ Logan pointed past the barrier at the car park, laid out in front of the two-storey office block. It was crammed with vehicles. ‘Anywhere? ’

‘. .That’s right, sir, several lines of enquiry are opening up, and now we’ve got that forensic anthropologist on board. . Yes, thank you, sir, it was a good idea of mine, but I can’t take all the credit.’

Typical.

The security guard checked his clipboard, then took a couple of steps away from the car and spoke into a two-way radio. Whatever he said, it was too quiet to make anything out. Especially with Steel droning away.

‘. .no, sir, it’s too soon to promise an arrest’s on its way to the media, but between you and me: we’re confident. . Yes. . Right. .’

And then the guard was back, holding a pair of ID cards dangling from fluorescent orange lanyards. He handed them through the window. ‘Make sure your pass is visible at all times. Go round the production block, there’s overflow parking in front of Soundstage One. Five miles an hour, tops.’ He leaned into the car again. ‘Not fifteen, not thirty: five.’

‘Just make sure someone knows we’re coming.’

The parking barrier jerked up and Logan eased the pool car over the threshold into tinsel town. Or what passed for it in the north-east of Scotland.

A pair of big grey warehouses sat behind the office block. Logan followed the road around at a glacial five miles per hour.

‘. .aye, sir, you can count on me.’ Steel hung up, then peered out at Soundstage One. It was at least four storeys tall, with a big ‘1’ stencilled up the front in gold paint. ‘You and me are in the wrong business, Laz. Looks like the dirty movies is where the money is.’

‘We’re making substantial progress? ’

A tanned young woman in denim shorts and a cut-off T-shirt flip-flopped past pushing a rail of what looked like nuns’ costumes.

Steel grinned. ‘That’s your global recession for you. Every bugger’s got to cut back on the frivolous stuff like food and heating, but they’ll no’ give up their porn.’

Logan pulled up in one of the bays marked out in yellow paint beside the soundstage door, ignoring the ‘REVERSE PARK ONLY’ notice. ‘The ACC’s going to know it was all bullshit. We’re no nearer finding out who necklaced that poor sod than we were two days ago.’

‘The ACC believes what I tell him to believe.’ She slapped Logan on the chest. ‘Now shut up: you’re harshing my pre-porn tingles.’

A thin young man marched over from the office block, a leather satchel slung across one shoulder. Long hair, knee-length shorts, blue plimsoles, ‘BOD IS MY CO-PILOT’ T-shirt, and thick-rimmed glasses. Half a dozen friendship bracelets dangled tatty braided tails from his left wrist. He reached the car as they climbed out. Grinned at them. Then pulled an iPad in a red leather case from his manbag and fiddled with it. Then nodded. ‘Hi, you’re. . Logan and Roberta, right? Can I see your passes? ’

Logan handed them both over.

‘Right, I actually need you to wear these, OK? And make sure they’re visible. We’ve had a bit of a problem with unauthorized people. .’ He gave the passes back.

As soon as Logan put his on, the young man took a photo of him with the iPad. He did the same with Steel. ‘Cool, all in the system. OK, well, my name’s Jack,’ he jiggled his own pass at them, ‘I’m the go-to guy round here, so if there’s anything you need: let me know. Right, let’s do this.’

Jack turned on his heel and marched off around the side of Soundstage One.

Steel licked her lips, a frown creasing up the terrain of her forehead. ‘Why am I getting a bad feeling about this? ’

They followed him, past a stack of foam and fibreglass bodies, most of which had bits hacked off.

He looked back over his shoulder. ‘I know, creepy right? You should see them when they’re all wired up by the FX guys, it’s totally amazing. Got to hold onto them till we finish pickups, just in case.’

Steel dropped her voice to a hissing whisper. ‘What kind of porno needs a big pile of mangled corpses? ’

Logan stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘Jack, you been here a while? ’

‘Since the very start! It’s been. . an amazing experience. Seriously, what an introduction to the business, right? ’

‘Do you remember an Agnes Garfield? ’

‘Oh, my, God.’ He rolled his eyes, one hand pressed against his chest. ‘Could she have been any more of a nutbag? It’s creepy when people get obsessed like that, isn’t it? I mean, it’s only a film, right? ’

Steel shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t know.’

‘Right, here we are.’ Jack swept his arms out, encompassing the front of another dirty big warehouse, this one with the number ‘2’ painted in silver all up the front and over the massive sliding doors. If anything it was even larger than the first one. ‘Oh-oh, we’ve got a red light, so we’re going to have to wait here for a minute or two.’