Stuart MacBride - Close to the Bone

Nichole Fyfe had taken off the leather frock coat, dark patches beneath her arms staining the red silk shirt. A ring of what looked like napkins poked out of her collar, presumably to keep her makeup off the fabric. Unlike Zander’s and Insch’s ID pass, hers hung around her neck on a bright orange lanyard with ‘ACTOR ~ ACTOR ~ ACTOR. .’ picked out in black all along it.

She held up a copy of the script. Post-it notes stuck out of the edges like brightly coloured spines, the visible text covered in scrawled annotations and yellow highlighter pen. ‘I wanted to talk to you about three-eighty-two. Don’t you think Rowan should be more concerned about the inquisition team? Would she really go into the tower block without taking backup with her? I can’t emotionally connect with her decision-making here.’

There was a small pause, then Insch blinked. ‘I see where you’re coming from. . But if she takes backup then we don’t get that sense of deep primordial threat when she finds Issobell Barroun’s body.’

‘But-’

‘And she doesn’t want Mrs Shepherd finding out, does she? If one of the team’s compromised, then everything becomes a lot more dangerous.’

A little frown pulled at the fake scar on her face. ‘So what you’re saying is: at this point, Rowan’s the only person Rowan can trust? She’s isolating herself and that emphasizes her core vulnerability. . It’s a metaphor for her need to be loved. Yes, I can work with that. .’ Then Nichole looked over and gifted Logan with a smile. ‘Sorry, I’m such a drama queen when it comes to getting the scene right.’ She hauled off a black leather glove and stuck out her hand. A network of shiny scar tissue traced its way across the skin of her wrist. ‘Nichole Fyfe.’

Logan took her hand — slightly damp — and shook it. ‘DI McRae. I used to work with. . David.’ Still felt strange using his first name.

‘Right — Logan McRae. I’m sure David’s mentioned you.’ The smile got brighter for a second, then she picked at the fabric of her shirt, pulling it away from her armpits. ‘Sorry, been under the studio lights all day, I’m a mess. Anyway, it’s been great. I’m sure I’ll see you later.’ And she was gone, scribbling something down in the margins of her script.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Insch sagged, massaging his forehead with the fingers of one hand. ‘It’ll be worth it, it’ll be worth it. .’ Deep breath. ‘Whatever happened to just turning up on time and knowing your lines? Now everyone’s a method-acting nutjob pain in the arse: “What’s my motivation, would my character really think that in this situation, what’s the emotional heart of the scene. .?” Every bloody day.’

Another carrot stick disappeared. Then he turned and stalked back down the corridor.

Logan followed him. ‘Seems nice enough to me.’

‘You know we send her a car every morning? With a driver, a punnet of raspberries, and three bottles of Perrier. Has to be Perrier, any other brand and she flies off in a strop. It’s fizzy bloody water, not insulin. If she deigns to turn up at all. Four hours we were waiting for her this morning. Four hours.’

‘So fire her.’

Insch stopped and stared at him. ‘Don’t be stupid. She’s the best thing that ever happened to this film.’ He pulled out a carrot stick and pointed it at Logan like a magic wand. ‘She was still filming In Death We Trust when we cast her as Rowan. And soon as they stopped shooting, she dragged Morgan off to stay with a coven in the Midwest US so they could learn about witchcraft. She even learned to smoke a pipe for the role. We told her she didn’t have to — we’d fix it in post-production — but she did it anyway. That’s how dedicated she is.’ The wand disappeared between his teeth. ‘Just because Nichole’s a nightmare to deal with, it doesn’t mean she’s not a great actress. Not just good: great .’

The fire door clunked shut behind them. Insch squinted in the sunshine as they stepped out onto sticky black tarmac. ‘So I finally managed to persuade Zander it was still possible to make an artistic statement, but he’d have to get away from cinerotography to do it. Let’s face it: the people watching porn are, by definition, a bunch of wankers. We needed a genre that would appreciate the work we put in.’

The car park was bathed in a golden glow, sparking on chrome bumpers and gleaming paintwork. Logan settled back against a BMW. ‘When I searched Agnes’s house I found your missing Dittay book: the one with all the squiggles and sigils in it. And a script.’

‘So we pooled our resources, remortgaged our houses, optioned the rights to Witchfire , and got a stack of investors involved. Meant we could afford proper big-name actors, set designers, cinematographers, costumes. . We’ve got the budget to do something really special here.’

‘Why didn’t you press charges? ’

Off in the middle distance, Steel was grumbling into her mobile, kicking a stone about like a sulky teenager.

Insch ran a hand along the wattle of skin under his chin. ‘She never changes, does she? ’

‘There must have been a reason.’

‘Go back in time five years and you’d have been mad to put money on her running CID. Me: yes. Her: no chance. You’d have more luck betting she’d be out on her backside for gross misconduct. Or banged up somewhere.’ A sigh. ‘Now look at us.’

‘She’s not running CID. . Well, she is, but only till Finnie gets back from Malaga: serial rape, case review.’

‘Not that I’m complaining, mind: I love making movies. And Witchfire ’s only the beginning, we’re already looking about for the next project.’ A smile stretched his cadaverous features. ‘This is the start of something big, Logan. Aberdeen’s going to be the film capital of Scotland. Goodbye Hollywood, hello Stoneywood.’

‘So why didn’t you press charges? ’

Insch settled onto the bonnet next to him, the bag of carrot sticks plonked down between them. ‘Because Zander is ruled more by this. .’ He poked himself in the chest. ‘Than this. .’ The finger doinked off the side of his forehead a couple of times. ‘We called the police, went round, demanded our property back, and her father gave us this big sob story about how she’d tried to kill herself and she’s a good kid really and we can’t blame her for being mentally ill.’

‘And Zander. .? ’

‘Hook, line, and stinker. Didn’t want to be responsible for her taking another overdose.’

‘Yeah, well, I suppose you can’t blame him for. .’ Logan dragged out his notebook. ‘Hold on, her dad told us she’d slit her wrists.’

‘That was at Christmas. She took an overdose in February: Valentine’s Day.’ A nod. ‘Nothing like it for bringing out the suicidal romantics.’

‘The bastards lied to us, again .’

Insch cleared his throat, looked down at his huge shoes. ‘I heard about Samantha, and the fire. I’m sorry.’

Everyone was always sorry.

Logan cricked his neck from side to side. ‘What about you? How’s Miriam and the kids getting on? ’

‘Apparently Canada’s lovely this time of year. Anna’s got a boyfriend. Can you believe that? Only eleven and she’s got a boyfriend. Haven’t seen her or Brigit for two years. .’ Insch chewed on the inside of his sunken cheek for a bit. ‘Miriam’s getting married in September. He’s called Jeff , owns a restaurant in Vancouver.’ The word ‘Jeff’ was pronounced as if it tasted bad.

‘Sorry.’

‘It is what it is.’ Insch crunched his way through another carrot. Then stared off into the middle distance. ‘Speaking of arsehole boyfriends: I need you to do me a favour.’