Stuart MacBride - Close to the Bone

‘You don’t have to be such-’

‘ I did all the legwork. I found out who was selling the stuff. I found out who was making it. And I’m in charge.’

‘Fine, you’re in charge. You’re the big man. All hail, King Dildo the Great, Lord of the Shop Cops.’

Sim scooted forward in her seat, feet making scritchy noises on the sticky floor. ‘Why do they call you Dildo? ’

He glanced in the rear-view mirror, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘That’s King Dildo, to you.’

The council Transit van stuttered to a halt in the corner of a car park, facing a row of shops. A bakery, a newsagent’s, a dry cleaner’s, a tropical fish shop, an estate agent’s with a ‘FOR SALE OR LET’ sign in the window, and a bookie’s: J Stewart amp; Son — Bookmakers est. 1974. Heavy metal grilles covered the windows, empty crisp packets and bits of old newspaper were trapped in the gaps.

Up above, the sky was like dark-grey ink dripped onto wet paper, slivers of blue shining between the towering clouds.

Logan undid his seatbelt. ‘Ma Stewart. Again ? Does the woman never learn? ’

Dildo reached back behind the driver’s seat and hauled out a large sports bag. ‘Oh, she’s done herself proud this time. .’ He unzipped it, then paused.

Logan’s phone was singing Rennie’s theme tune.

They couldn’t leave him alone for five minutes, could they?

‘What? ’

‘ Guv? You better get back here: Ding-Dong and Leith just had a stand-up in the CID office. Proper toe-to-toe yelling match. ’

‘So? Get Steel to-’

‘ She’s going ballistic — and I mean intercontinental. Ding-Dong lamped Leith one, right on the nose. ’

So much for DI Bell’s pretentions to the throne. ‘Why? ’

‘ Leith made that bell-end crack again. They’re both standing there, yelling about how the other’s screwing up the case, then bang — swinging punches, blood, DCs shouting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”. . You should’ve been here, it was great.’

Dildo pulled a sword as long as his arm from the sports bag. The blade shone and glittered.

Logan frowned through the windscreen at the row of shops. The estate agent’s looked as if it had died a death a while ago. All the property notices abandoned in the barred window were stained yellow, their colours faded. Dead flies and wasps made a little line of bodies along the inside of the sills. Bars on the windows. A graffiti-covered shutter over the door. No way in or out. .

‘ Guv? You still there? ’

How did Agnes and Anthony get into the house?

‘Put him on.’

‘ What, Ding-Dong? Can’t — Steel’s got him in with Professional Standards for a reaming, he’ll- ’

‘No: Leith.’

‘ Hold on, I’ll see if he’s done with the Duty Doc. . ’ Rustling and crunching noises came from the earpiece.

Dildo pulled a dittay book from the bag and handed it to Sim, then went back in for what looked like a gold torque — the twisted metal band finished with ivory skulls in the end pieces. Then some T-shirts, a couple of baseball caps with the same ‘ Witchfire’ logo as the one Agnes Garfield wore to take out Anthony Chung’s money, a roll of posters, and what looked like a leather warrant card case. ‘Good, aren’t they? ’

Sim’s eyes went wide. ‘Ooh, a finder’s badge. .’ She flipped open the leather case, and smiled at the shiny badge inside. ‘It’s just like the book.’ Then caught Logan staring at her and cleared her throat. ‘You know, if I was interested in that kind of thing. . Which I’m not. Obviously.’

‘Thought you didn’t like Witchfire .’

‘Well. . I never said that, exactly . .’

Dildo went back into the sports bag and came out with a dagger. He slipped the knife out of its black sheath. The blade was as long as his hand, sharpened on both sides, and carved with squiggles and lines, topped off with a dull metal T-shaped guard, a handle wrapped in red leather, and a hexagonal pommel. The whole thing looked hard, functional.

Sim put the Finder’s badge on the seat beside her and held out her hand, mouth hanging open. ‘Jeepers. .’

Dildo passed it across. ‘According to Insch, they’re all perfect replicas of the film’s props, right down to the tiniest detail. Look at the end of the handle bit.’

She turned the dagger around and peered at the hexagonal pommel. ‘A real-life pricking knife. . It’s got the witch-finders’ crest on it, all mirror image so it’s the right way round when you use it to make a wax seal for death warrants.’ A grin plumped her cheeks. ‘This is so cool !’

More rustling from the earpiece, then Rennie was back, his voice little more than a whisper. ‘ Found him. But do me a favour — he’s in a crappy mood already, don’t set him off, OK? ’

‘Just put him on.’

A crackle, then Leith was on the line, voice all nasal and jagged. ‘ This better be important. ’

‘If it’s any consolation, at least you saw it coming. I just opened my front door one morning, and bang .’ The brotherhood of getting punched in the face. ‘Your deposition site in Kintore, how did Agnes and Anthony get in? ’

‘ Did you call up just to take the piss, because if you did, you can- ’

‘It’s not my fault Ding-Dong lamped you one. The first attending officer said the place was locked, he had to get keys from the estate agent’s. Agnes and Anthony didn’t break in, so they had to have a key.’

‘ Rennie — give me the list .’ Pause. ‘ I got the boy to chase up everyone who’s seen the property since it went on the market fifteen months ago. Plus details of the owners’ relatives, and friends. We’re working our way through them now. That all right with you? ’

‘I wasn’t trying to tell you how to do your job, I was just-’

‘ That’s exactly what you’re trying to do. Now why don’t you sod off and let me do it? ’

‘Come on, Leith, it’s-’

‘ I was a DI long before you, McRae, and I’ll be one long after you’ve gone back to the Wee Hoose with the rest of the detective sergeants. Remember that .’ And then he hung up.

Logan held the phone in front of his face. ‘Not surprised Ding-Dong punched you on the nose, you miserable git .’

Sim swished the dagger through the air, pommel forward, the blade resting back along her arm. Knife-fighter style. ‘The balance is great. Does it have the thing? ’

Dildo shrugged. ‘No idea.’

She took hold of the pommel and unscrewed it. Underneath was a tiny V-shaped blade, half as long as her pinkie was wide. Her grin got even wider. ‘It does!’ She held it up for Logan. ‘They use this end to find the Devil’s mark. Any deeper and you risk puncturing something. . What? ’

A small V-shaped blade, no more than half a centimetre long, set on a round metal guard. Exactly like the illustration on Anthony Chung’s post-mortem report.

At least now they knew what Agnes had used to torture her ex-boyfriend.

Dildo took the dagger back, slid it into its sheath, screwed the pommel into place again, then dumped the whole thing in the sports bag, followed by everything else. ‘Right. Remember, I’m in charge. You pair just stand there and look menacing while I confiscate stuff.’

One wall was a solid bank of TV screens. Most of them were dark, just a handful playing various matches and races from the other side of the globe, so a pair of auld mannies could perch on red-vinyl stools and stare at them through milk-bottle-bottom glasses. Swigging from tins of Special Brew at twenty to nine on a Wednesday morning.