Broken Skin

Rickards nodded. ‘Nothing,’

‘What about the basement?’

‘Isn’t one: I checked. But we …’ Rickards trailed off, following the invisible line between Logan’s pointing finger and one of the desks: a scuffed Formica-and-chipboard job, the sort of thing you could pick up cheap from B amp;Q or Argos. It sat on a big red, brown and pink rug with elephants round the edge. The constable stared at it for a minute, then admitted he didn’t have a clue what Logan was on about.

‘Desk’s been moved. Look at the rug: you see the dark red bit with the dimples round it? That’s where it normally sits. And the wall behind it: you can’t see half the calendar — it’s hidden behind the edge of the desk.’

‘Ah,’ said Ma, ‘we had a book on feng shui and they said-’

Rickards grabbed a policewoman and got her to help shift the desk off to one side.

‘-bad luck to move it! It destroys the energy flow of the whole room! It-’

The edge of the rug was rolled back, exposing the dark border between trapdoor and floorboard. ‘Of course,’ said Logan, as an embarrassed Rickards apologized, ‘it probably helps that I’ve raided this place before.’

The basement didn’t quite stretch the length of Ma’s office. It was a claustrophobic space in white-painted concrete blocks, one end stacked floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes — cigarettes, whisky, wine, and for some unfathomable reason, nappies. The other side had been given over to a mini pirating empire — four PCs and a stack of DVD burners. It wasn’t even automatic: someone would have to manually change the disks. A small colour laser printer sat in the corner, a stack of labels sitting next to it, and a couple of boxes of blank DVDs.

‘I’m really just storing these things for someone else,’ said Ma with her best harmless-little-oldlady smile. ‘Now, would anyone like a nice cup of tea? We’ve got Eccles cakes.’

Logan arrested her.

40

‘You know,’ said Rickards when Ma had been processed and stuck in a cell, ‘I thought she’d be more … upset.’

Logan snorted. ‘She’s used to it. We’ve been doing her for peddling porn for years. We arrest her, she won’t tell us who her suppliers are because, “naebody likes a clype”, goes up before the Sheriff and does her, “I’m just a confused old woman” routine, he takes pity on her, she gets a small fine, some community service — which she actually enjoys — and about a year later we’ll catch her doing the same thing, and it all goes round again.’ He shook his head. ‘The circle of porn.’

‘Do we-’

‘Sorry to interrupt,’ DC Rennie, looking flustered and out of breath, ‘but DI Insch wants to see you in his office.’

‘Can it wait?’

Rennie shifted uncomfortably. ‘Well, you see … there’s been another rape …’

Logan closed his eyes. ‘Fuck.’

‘That’s not the worst part.’

By the time Logan pushed through into the inspector’s office most of the shouting seemed to be over, but the air still crackled with pent-up fury. Insch’s face was a furious shade of purple, glowering at Jackie as she stood with her hands behind her back in front of his desk, flexing her fingers. The room’s other occupant was a uniformed PC, slumped in one of the visitor chairs, holding a big wodge of toilet paper to his nose and making groaning noises.

‘I was just-’ was as far as Jackie got, before Insch held up a fat finger.

‘Not another word!’ There was some mumbling from Mr Blood and Toilet Paper, but Insch wasn’t in the mood. ‘That goes for you too!’ Silence.

Logan’s heart sank. It didn’t take a genius to work out what had happened. ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’

‘About bloody time. Take this,’ pointing at Jackie, ‘and have a word with it. Tell it that it’s this bloody close to getting suspended and if it doesn’t pull its bloody socks up I WILL KICK ITS ARSE FROM HERE TO BALMORAL!’ Flashes of spittle arced through the stuffy office. He turned a baleful eye on Jackie. ‘Get out of my bloody sight!’

She stood there, staring furiously at the carpet for a moment, then turned on her heel and pushed past Logan and out into the hall. Logan froze, looking from the inspector’s thunderous expression to PC Nosebleed, thought better of asking, and hurried out after Jackie, closing the door behind him as another tirade of abuse began.

She was almost at the stairs by the time he caught up with her. ‘You want to fill me in?’

‘What the hell is wrong with everyone?’

‘What happened?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Then she started marching off again. ‘A woman’s been raped and he’s making jokes!’

‘So you clobbered him? Jackie, if he makes a complaint you’re going to get carpeted.’

‘One fucking night we’re not watching Macintyre …’

Logan grabbed her. ‘Where, what happened?’

She yanked her arm free of his grip. ‘Wendy Smith. Student nurse. She was eighteen. Finished her shift and Macintyre jumped her. Only this time the bastard beats and cuts her so badly she’s lost the sight in one eye. Her face looks like fucking strips of liver! Three hundred stitches! Threehundred! The people she worked with in A amp;E couldn’t even recognize her, and he gets a seven-figure book deal!’

‘Where? Where did it happen?’

‘Dun-fucking-dee. Same as usual. The little shite-’

‘Then it’s not him.’

‘Of course it’s him!’

‘IT CAN’T BE HIM!’ Losing it. Clenching his teeth to try and calm down. ‘We were there last time — remember? All night! He was at home when the last girl was raped: it’s on the video!’

‘It was him.’ She turned and made for the stairs.

‘How? How can it be him?’

‘It’s him!’

This was pointless — like arguing with his mother — she was never going to admit she was wrong. Logan let her go.

There was no way he was going straight home — not if she was in that kind of mood — so when the shift was over Logan asked if anyone wanted to go to the pub. No takers, not even Rennie.

‘Rehearsals. Come along, it’ll be fun. John’s coming, aren’t you?’

Rickards nodded happily. ‘I’m prompting.’

‘Oh, well … Don’t worry about it. I’ll go see a film or something.’

‘No, come!’ Rennie made various theatrical gestures. ‘And then we can go get that curry we were talking about — lads’ night out!’

Logan shrugged: why not?

They marched up Union Street, with Rennie babbling on about how some plot in East Enders was a parable for Othello.

‘So,’ said Rickards when Rennie managed to shut up for thirty seconds, ‘you got cornered by Tina last night.’

‘Tina?’ It took Logan a moment to figure out who he meant — Mrs Bottoms Wield The Power. ‘Yeah … she’s a little … intense.’

‘Yup, that’s our Tina. They’re not all that bad you know. She’s just a bit evangelical about the whole thing. Husband left her for a dental hygienist and she’s been on this self-empowerment trip ever since. Last year we got dragged along to see her in some bloody awful pantomime.’

‘Yeah, she said.’ They stopped at the lights on Union Terrace and watched the traffic grumble past. The day’s warmth was long gone and a cold wind whistled up Bridge Street, sending an old newspaper flapping drunkenly into