Стюарт Макбрайд - The Coffinmaker’s Garden

‘HENRY! STOP BUGGERING ABOUT! HEEL!’

Bark .

Knew we should’ve got a cat.

Pretty certain he’d found something unwholesome to roll in as well, given the horrible sour sausagey odour he’d left behind. Well, it was either that, or my fault for letting him eat all that crap over the last two days. God knew Henry could fart with the best of them.

I hobbled after him, into the darkness.

Well from now on he was getting nothing but dog food till his digestion settled down. No more treats.

Ding-buzz .

ROBOSABIR:

>>Target Phone Located

>>56.678808, -2.876107

>>56.678892, -2.875771

>>56.678982, -2.875412

What was that meant to be, some sort of error message?

And then it dawned — latitude and longitude. They were map coordinates.

When I copied and pasted the first one into my phone’s map, it jumped straight to the A90, north of Forfar. The second one took it slightly further along the road. As did the third.

Which meant Gordon Smith was either heading for Oldcastle or Aberdeen.

I killed the torch app, plunging the surrounding stage sets into gloom again, and called Mother.

‘If you’re calling about your unmade beds, it’s—’

‘Leah’s on the move. Sabir’s got her mobile signal heading north on the A90.’

‘It is? Why didn’t we...’ The sound went all muffled again. ‘John, what’s happening with Leah MacNeil’s mobile phone?... Well find out! Ash says she’s being tracked right now!... Go! Quick, quick!’

My phone ding-buzzed again. Another text from RoboSabir with three lots of coordinates in it, and this time when I pasted the first set into my map, it came up with the slip road onto the A9402. So definitely heading for Oldcastle. ‘You need to get an Armed Response Unit ready.’

‘Thank you, Ash “I Was A DI Before You Were” Henderson, but this isn’t my first psychotic maniac.’ A scrunching noise as she put her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Amanda! I need a dog unit and a firearms team, ASAP! Oh, and an OSU as well, might as well go in mob-handed. Then get the car: we’re going hunting!’

‘Good. Franklin and I can be with you in—’

‘You’ve got an SOC team on the way, remember? You need to be there for chain of evidence. Or have you completely forgotten what being a police officer involves?’

Damn it.

A muffled voice in the background — and whiny with it, so probably DC Watt. ‘I’ve got them sending me live updates on Leah’s phone’s location. See?’

‘Right, I have to go.’

‘Let me know how it...’ But the line was silent. She’d hung up.

Thank you, Ash. You’ve done a great job, Ash. We couldn’t have caught him without you, Ash.

Hmm... This was probably how Sabir felt.

My phone ding-buzzed again with three more coordinates, marking Leah’s course towards Oldcastle.

Had to admit, it hurt to be left out at the grand finale. Would’ve been nice to be there while Gordon Smith resisted arrest. And maybe pile in to help subdue him. In a proportional-and-appropriate-level-of-force kind of way, of course. With a few sneaky kicks in the balls for luck.

Henry was doing his circular dance again when I caught up with him, next to Cinderella’s kitchen — going by the laminated sign — but this time, as he tried to scurry off, I grabbed the smelly sod by the collar and snapped on his lead.

Ding-buzz .

Didn’t seem to faze him any, though, he just grinned at me, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

‘You’re a stinky idiot, you know that, don’t you?’

Weird: up close he didn’t smell nearly as bad.

Must’ve been a bout of post-haggis-burger flatulence, then.

I let him pick up his vile tennis ball and we made our way back through the mounds of disassembled scenery.

Ding-buzz .

That nasty sausage-like smell was still there as we passed the tarpaulin-covered rack.

‘How does one wee dog manage to produce a lingering...’

But what if it wasn’t Henry?

None of the other sections of scenery were covered with tarpaulin, they were all open to the dusty warehouse air.

Yeah...

Ding-buzz .

I hooked his lead around the metal upright of the nearest rack and left him there.

Took hold of the tarpaulin’s bottom corner.

Hauled it up and to the side. Flinging it back.

The breath turned to concrete in my throat as I stared at what’d been hidden underneath.

Now I knew what Gordon Smith had been doing here last night.

‘But...’ Franklin stood there, mouth hanging open. ‘There’s... I mean, are we sure this isn’t another, you know, prop?’ Sounding hopeful.

Couldn’t blame her.

It was a cobbled-together version of the far wall in Gordon Smith’s kill room. Shackles, for the wrists and ankles, fixed to chains that were bolted to a makeshift frame. Only this time the poor bastard he’d tortured was still hanging there.

Or at least, what was left of them.

Which explained that sour meaty smell.

She whistled out a breath. ‘That’s a lot of blood.’

The body’s feet were twisted over onto their sides, in a wide plastic tub, submerged nearly up to their ankles in dark shiny viscous liquid.

This time, instead of ding-buzz , my phone went pop-ding . The text-alert noise I’d set for Leah.

I don’t no what to do!!! He’s always been

grandad 2 me but he’s so so scary now

I wanted 2 stop him but I couldn’t I just

want 2 cry all the time

Please help me!!

Scary?

Scary didn’t even begin to describe what Gordon Smith had done to the poor sod in front of me.

‘What have you found this time?’ Louis Williamson came bounding up, performing an OTT skip-and-a-hop, elbows out, as he came to a halt. As if he was on stage. ‘Is this...’ Then his eyes went wide and he lurched back a couple of steps. Grabbed hold of the nearest rack of scenery with one hand, the other clasped over his mouth. ‘Oh Jesus...’

I turned, arms out, doing my best to block his view. ‘Mr Williamson, I’m going to have to ask you to back away from the—’

‘It’s him , isn’t it: that drama student who went missing? It was on the local radio this morning, his mum was frantic...’

‘Drama student?’

‘David something or other, didn’t come home last night. He’s... He was missing. Oh...’ Louis swallowed. Shook his head. ‘I think I’m going to be—’ Both hands covered his mouth now, as he hurried away into the gloom.

I turned to Franklin.

She grimaced. Pulled out her phone. ‘I know, I know. I’ll call it in.’

Didn’t take long for C Division to send out its best and brightest. Now the warehouse rang to the echoes of bodies in SOC suits rustling around, shouting at and to each other. Camera flashes flickering back from the surrounding scenery, lighting up the gloom like a mini thunderstorm. The clack and whine merging into the background noise.

Ding-buzz .

RoboSabir again. Only this time there was only the one coordinate. And according to my map it was halfway down Kittiwake Avenue in Logansferry. Looked as if Leah and Gordon Smith had finally got where they were going. I forwarded the text to Mother. Along with:

They’ve stopped moving — Watt should

have an address by now.

Have you got your teams ready to go in?

SEND.

Not long to go before all this was over. Bit of an anti-climax, to be honest.

I called up Leah’s contact and sent her one as well:

You have to be strong, Leah. We know