Stuart MacBride - Close to the Bone

‘You can’t know that it’s-’

‘Do you have any idea how much time and effort I put into fixing Roy? And you just set your pet psycho loose to kill him!’

Prof. Marks opened his mouth and ran a pale-yellow tongue across his premolars. ‘You chipped my tooth. I should sue you.’

‘I’ll do more than-’

Logan slammed his hand down on the desk. ‘All right, enough!’

Silence.

Goulding settled back against the windowsill again. ‘Tell him what you told me, Marks, or I swear to God. .’

The professor cleared his throat, shuffled in his seat, looked away. ‘Doctor-patient confidentiality prohibits me from-’

‘He’s been in touch with her, since she went missing. He’s talked to her.’

Professor Marks stared at him. ‘I told you that in strictest confidence! You can’t breach-’

‘Oh grow up. I’m not bound by doctor-patient confidentiality; she’s not my patient. If she was , she wouldn’t be out there necklacing poor bastards who fought for their country!’

Logan glanced over at Chalmers. She sat on the chaise longue, scribbling away in her notebook. Good. ‘We’ve got a warrant on the way. Soon as that gets here, you’re either going to talk to us, or we’re going to arrest you for obstruction, drag you down to the station, and throw you in a cell.’

‘You can’t do that. I’m the victim here, it’s this violent Scouse-’

‘And tomorrow morning, you’ll go up in front of the Sheriff and he’ll send you off to Craiginches till you decide to cooperate.’

Marks licked his lips. ‘You. . I’m a doctor, I can’t just-’

‘And meanwhile, Agnes Garfield is out there,’ Logan stabbed a finger at the window, ‘killing people! Do you really want to be responsible for another death? ’

‘I’m not responsible for anyone’s death. Whatever happened to Roy Forman wasn’t a result of my actions. If Agnes-’

‘She beat the crap out of him, chained him to a stake, throttled him, stuck a tyre around his throat and set fire to it.’ Logan reached into his pocket. ‘Do you want to see the pictures? Want to see what that looks like? ’

Professor Marks’s knees twitched, then drew together, as if Logan had just offered to kick him in the balls. ‘I’m bound by my Hippocratic oath to-’

Goulding lunged for him and Marks squealed, scrambled back into the armchair.

Chalmers was on her feet, blocking the way, one hand in the middle of Goulding’s chest. ‘All right, let’s everyone just calm down. OK? ’

He stared over her shoulder. ‘ Tell them, Marks.’

The professor closed his eyes, curled into himself. ‘I took an oath.’

Goulding stared out of the office window, shoulders slumped, one hand on his forehead. ‘Are you really going to arrest him? ’

Logan looked up from his phone. ‘Soon as they fax the warrant over.’

‘Good.’

Thin grey light seeped in through the glass, the room darkening with the afternoon. It was a lot quieter without Professor Marks moaning on about his rights and his chipped tooth. Of course, Chalmers wouldn’t be happy — having to babysit Marks in his own office, making sure he didn’t do a runner for darkest Fife, or the hedonistic fleshpots of Inverurie — but tough. It was character building.

Or at least that’s what Steel always told him when she was handing out the crappy assignments.

Logan went back to his phone. According to the screen, there were nine voicemail messages waiting and half a dozen texts too. Half of which were from Steel:

You rancid wee shite! I’m going to rip your nutsack off and make you wear it as a hat!

You knew I wanted help with this meeting!

Get your arse back here NOW!!!!!!

Again with the scrotum threats. Still, say what you like about Steel, at least she didn’t resort to text-speak.

Delete.

He deleted the other ones too, not bothering to read past the first line, all of which contained at least one swear word.

Goulding cleared his throat. ‘I know dragging Marks down the corridor by the scruff of his neck must have seemed a little. . unprofessional, but-’

‘You had him in a headlock.’

‘Roy Forman was making so much progress, coming on so well. To just throw it all away like that. .’ A sniff. ‘Why didn’t you tell me he was the necklacing victim? This morning, when I was interviewing Robert Whyte? ’

‘Didn’t know you knew him. If I did, you couldn’t have talked to Whyte: conflict of interest.’

The next text message was from Rennie, moaning on about how Henry Scott wasn’t there by the time he got to Gilcomston Church, and why was Chalmers always the favourite, and it wasn’t fair. Wah, wah, wah.

Delete.

Next one was from Tim Mair at Trading Standards.

Where the hell are you, McRae? We said 3 pm! I brought biscuits amp; everything!!!!!

Arse. Three. Ah well, never mind.

Logan poked out a reply with his thumbs:

Don’t be such a girl. Got caught up on murder enquiry.

Better leave it till later. Make it 17:15-ish?

‘Did you know Roy was in Operation Desert Storm? Right behind enemy lines, fighting the Republican Guard. His squad was pinned down by sniper fire, then the mortar rounds started falling. They lost their commanding officer and half of the team. Roy caught a bit of shrapnel in the eye. Half-blind, bleeding heavily, he carried one of his mates three miles back to base camp, under fire the whole way.’

Logan looked up from his phone. ‘He told DCI Steel he was caught in a roadside bomb.’

‘Look, the point is, he was a hero. He was damaged fighting for his country, and he was out on the streets. And he was getting better .’ A glower. ‘Until Professor Skid Marks got involved.’

The last text was from Dr Graham:

Gt the SIA rslts bk frm Dundee

Vktm ws lcl

Gv me a phn amp; ill tlk U thru thm

What the hell did ‘SIA’ mean? The woman was a nightmare.

Goulding left the window and settled behind the desk. ‘How’s Samantha getting on? ’

Logan thumbed out an answer:

I’ll give you a call when I’m back in the station.

How’s the facial reconstruction coming?

He hit send. ‘Just great. We went clubbing in Brechin last night. Going to the Maldives in July — do a bit of scuba diving.’

‘I see. .’ He steepled his fingers. ‘I’ve arranged for a Mental Health Officer to see Robert Whyte at four this afternoon. I’d be very surprised if he isn’t in a secure ward by the end of the day.’

A nutjob, but not the right nutjob.

Logan stuck his phone back in his pocket. ‘I think we’re getting a cat.’

‘That’s good. From a therapeutic point of view it’s probably a bit more effective than discussing all your problems with an imaginary person.’

For God’s sake. He slumped in his seat, both hands covering his eyes. ‘Here we go again. .’

‘I’m just saying it’s not entirely healthy. And you know talking therapy works. Look at all the progress we’ve made over the last two years: we cured your vegetarianism, didn’t we? You’re drinking less, you’ve lost weight, and you’re a lot less irritable.’

‘Leave it, OK? ’ Jesus, nag, nag, nag.

‘Logan, I’m serious: it’s really not healthy to keep-’

‘Take the bloody hint.’ He dropped his hands from his face and jabbed a finger in Goulding’s direction. ‘I can still do you for assaulting Professor Marks.’

Silence.

Goulding sighed, then wandered over to his wall full of whiteboards. ‘I’d like to work up a profile on Agnes Garfield. We know who she is, but it might help tell us where she is and what she’s going to do next. And much though I hate to impugn the professional reputation of my esteemed colleague: Professor Richard Marks is a dribbling idiot.’