Stuart MacBride - Close to the Bone

Like the ones on her bedroom roof and in her cupboard under the stairs.

‘ She has a romanticized notion of decay, it appeals to the entropy she feels inside, so she’ll want to stay somewhere that’s been empty for a while. Run-down, abandoned, maybe derelict. Assuming the dominant personality lets her have any say in it. ’

And that explained the half-dozen dead roses.

‘Anything else? ’

‘ Yes: tread carefully. Agnes Garfield is a deeply damaged individual, and the world is a terrifying place for her right now. She’s the only one standing between us and the powers of evil. In her mind she’s a hero. Don’t break her. ’

Not a monster, just doing monstrous things.

‘Thanks, Dave.’ Logan hung up and headed back to the cell block. Stopped outside number eight and peered through the hatch again.

Dr Marks hadn’t moved.

‘Last chance, Doctor. You stood up to us, we got a warrant, you got arrested. You did everything you could, no one can say you didn’t.’

Marks just stared at the far wall.

‘OK, well, you think about it.’ Logan marched over to cell seven and banged on the door, then did the same to number six. The swearing and shouting kicked off again. ‘Enjoy.’

Rennie slouched in and collapsed into Logan’s visitor’s chair. ‘Urrgh. .’

Logan glanced up from his door-to-door forms. ‘Well? ’

Rennie’s suit looked as if he’d slept in it, then taken it off and battered it to death with a cricket bat. ‘I quit. Sod this for a game of soldiers.’

‘What did Ding-Dong say? ’

He wrapped his arms around his head and let it fall backwards, knees clenched together. ‘How come Chalmers got the morning off, eh? She wasn’t even there all night. I was there all night, but do I get the morning off? Of course not, because every bicycle-seat-sniffing tosspot-’

‘My heart bleeds for you.’

‘Not as if we turned up anything, is it? No one’s seen Agnes the Nutbag; someone “thinks” they saw Roy Forman leaving the Green with an unidentified woman, but they reeked of meths and wee, so I wouldn’t trust them to ID their own reflection; and by the time I got back to the front of the queue they were all out of tiramisu.’

‘ Focus .’

Rennie blinked at him. ‘Right: Ding-Dong. I sneaked into his briefing and he says he interviewed some Stacey woman last night? Apparently she’s being very cagey about her whereabouts and the death of Anthony Chung. So she’s become a person of interest.’

‘He say what’s happening to her? ’

‘Up in front of the Sheriff at ten for the assault and indecent exposure. You want me to check it out? ’

Logan swivelled back and forth in his chair for a bit. Then shook his head. ‘No: she’s a time-waster, looking for something she can shock Daddy with. Forget about her. And yesterday wasn’t a complete washout, was it? You found your missing tramp.’

Rennie sank even further into the chair. ‘Ah. . Funny story. .’

‘Oh, you are kidding me.’

His eyebrows pinched. ‘I had to go running after this guy who rocked up pished and picked a fight with Insch’s bouncers.’

‘Henry Scott was right there!’

‘It wasn’t my fault!’

Logan buried his head in his hands. ‘I swear to God. .’

His computer made a pinging noise. Then another one. And another — new emails coming in thick and fast. He glanced up at the screen. Three hundred and sixty-two new messages.

What now ?

He clicked on the last one to come in.

› From: spellchaser@thecovenoflightandhope.org

› To: fanbox@williamhunterwrites.com

› Subject: You Sick Basterd!!!1!

›

› WTF is wrong with U man? Ur book is shit and U can’t write 4 shit and Ur a looser!!!

› Wiches is a powr for good in the wurld, an U can DIE!@

There was more of it, but the spelling and grammar didn’t get any better. OK. . He tried the first one to come in instead. It was from William Hunter’s webmistress in Iowa, apologizing for the huge number of nutter emails she was about to forward to him. Apparently these were all the dodgy messages that had been left through the website.

Rennie slumped further in the seat and flopped an arm across his face. ‘Maybe I could go into private security or something? ’

‘You’re useless at public security, who’d hire you? ’ Logan’s mouse swept across the screen. No way he was going to sift through three hundred and sixty-two emails from random internet crazy people. He used a wizard to set up a rule and forwarded them all on to Dr Goulding instead, along with a short note to check them all for someone capable of necklacing Roy Forman and torturing Anthony Chung.

Look at it as penance for breaking into Dr Marks’s office.

‘Or I could be a PI, like in the films? Simon Rennie: Private Investigator. .’

‘Simon Rennie: idiot, more like.’ The phone on Logan’s desk trilled. He jabbed the speakerphone button. ‘What? ’

‘ Don’t you “what” me, McRae .’ Big Gary on reception. ‘ Just ’cos you’re a DI now, doesn’t mean I won’t take you over my knee and spank your arse for you. ’

Logan scowled at a grinning Rennie. ‘Say something, I dare you.’

‘ You’ve got a visitor: one Timothy Mair Esquire from Trading Standards. ’

‘What the hell does Dildo want? ’

‘ I don’t know, and I don’t care .’ A clunk and the line went dead.

Rennie yawned, arms stretched way above his head. ‘Don’t take it personally: Big Gary’s been biting everyone’s head off since he found out someone got his little girl up the stick.’ He sagged back into place. ‘And before you ask: no, it wasn’t me.’

Tim ‘Dildo’ Mair pulled the scabrous council Transit van out onto Broad Street, the gearbox sounding like someone trying to run a set of maracas through the spin cycle. His eyes were narrowed behind a pair of John Lennon glasses, his black goatee beard bristling around a thin-lipped mouth.

Logan hauled on his seatbelt. ‘Seriously? You’re going to sulk at me the whole way? ’

Dildo didn’t look at him, kept his eyes on the road. ‘Constable Sim, would you please tell DI McRae that I’m not sulking, I’m trying not to give him another black eye to match the one he’s already got.’

Sitting on the second row of seats, PC Sim pulled a face, then wiped her hand on the van’s wall. ‘It’s all sticky back here. .’

‘Look, I’m sorry I missed our appointment yesterday, but I’m having a pretty shitty day, so you can-’

‘ Appointments . As in plural.’

The Transit rocked like someone was kicking it as it accelerated past Marischal College.

‘Didn’t think you were this delicate.’

‘Constable Sim, you can tell DI McRae I’m only doing this because his friend Insch promised to give my niece a tour of the set and a part as an extra if I caught who was counterfeiting the Witchfire stuff.’

She sniffed at her hand, then wiped it on the back of Logan’s seat. ‘What do you guys do in here to get it this sticky? ’

‘I’m in the middle of a murder enquiry, OK? I’m sorry that’s so bloody inconvenient for everyone, but I’ve got a killer to-’

‘Oh, bite me.’

They rumbled on in silence all the way up past the ugly concrete lump of Aberdeen College, then down the hill towards the massive Mounthooly roundabout.

Little muscles twitched along Dildo’s jaw, making the skin ripple.

Fine. Someone had to be the grown-up. ‘I’m sorry I blew you off yesterday. Can we just-’

‘Let’s get something straight: you’re just here to provide a police presence, because Insch said I had to use you. I’m in charge, get it? ’