Broken Skin

‘Strapped him to a table and spanked him.’

‘Same as Fettes.’

‘Identical. She showed him the DVD and told him it was all an act: special effects. Wanted him to scream and struggle, just like Fettes.’

‘Freak.’ Steel tried to blow a bubble, and ended up spitting the gum onto her desk. ‘Fuck …’ She picked it up and stuck it back in her mouth. ‘So? Did he let her fist him?’

‘Couldn’t sit down for days afterwards. So he went back, broke in and helped himself to her stuff. Said it was only fair.’

‘Probably right.’ She stood, worked a crick out of her neck and grabbed her jacket. ‘Come on then, backside in gear. You can grab Spanky while I go to the bog. Christ knows what was in that kebab last night, but it’s no’ agreeing with me.’

‘Ah … maybe we should take Rennie instead, he-’

‘Spanky. Not Rennie: bastard’s on the shit list after that crap he pulled last night with the pork scratchings. And let the PF know we’ve got a suspect.’ She pushed past him, pausing to grab a copy of that morning’s Press and Journal from her in-tray: OLD AGE PERVERT MADE MY WEE BOY KILL! Exclusive.

She was probably going to be a while.

As soon as the door swung shut, Logan groaned. Closed his eyes. Counted to ten. Then pulled out his phone and called the Procurator Fiscal’s office. It rang twice then diverted, probably to the mobile of whoever was on duty this weekend. ‘Please not Rachael, please not Rachael, please not …’ Rachael answered the phone. ‘Bollocks.’

‘What?’

‘Er … no, not you, something here. Erm. Look-’

‘I knew you’d call. I had a good time last night.’

Logan hadn’t, he’d spent the whole evening on tenterhooks, waiting for her to lean across the table and tell Jackie about their curry and snog. ‘We-’

‘So tonight, I’m thinking lasagne, red wine and a movie. You can bring a bag of salad and something for dessert.’

‘I can’t I … I’m … Look, Rachael, I like you, you’re smart and pretty and fun-’

‘If you’re about to say “but” you can stop right there.’

‘I’m living with someone. I can’t do this.’

Silence. ‘I see … So what: I was just a fling?’

Oh bloody hell. ‘No, it’s not like that, it’s… well …’ Silence. Bloody fucking hell. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You need to sit down and figure out what you actually want, Logan. And don’t take too long — I’m not going to hang around like an idiot forever while you make up your mind.’

Bloody, fucking, sodding hell. This was just getting worse, so Logan told her about Jimmy Duff and the woman he’d got the DVD from. Asking for an arrest and search warrant.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’ said Rachael when he’d finished going through all the details. ‘All you’ve got is Jimmy Duff’s word this woman’s involved: and he’s a known drug user, pusher and thief. Not exactly a credible witness.’

‘He … look, he says he was spanked, buggered and fisted by the householder. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you lie about to make yourself look good, is it?’

She admitted he had a point, but she still wasn’t going to give him a warrant. Not unless he could come up with something better than the word of some junkie scumbag. And that was the end of the discussion. ‘Don’t forget,’ she said, before he could hang up, ‘I’m not going to wait forever.’

‘Where the hell you been?’ asked Steel, shivering at the back door, hands jammed deep in her armpits, still chewing away on her nicotine gum.

Logan stepped out into the cold, grey morning. ‘We’re not getting a warrant.’

‘Didn’t think so. Still, worth a try, eh?’ She turned and bellowed out into the rear podium car park, ‘Come on Spanky, get a bloody shift on!’

A grumbling PC Rickards appeared from a filthy, battered pool car, carrying armfuls of chips papers and old burger boxes. He’d changed into his ‘going out’ clothes — the crumpled shirt and tie replaced by a black T-shirt and stab-proof vest. With the fluorescent yellow waterproof jacket on over the top, he looked like a short, grumpy lollypop man. He dumped the rubbish in the wire-mesh bin at the back of the building. Then went back for another load.

‘Honestly,’ the inspector pulled the gum from her mouth and squeeged it into the brickwork by the door, ‘some people treat this place like a tip.’ She grabbed Rickards as he deposited his load of rubbish in the bin. ‘Right, that’ll do. Fun though this is, I’m freezing my tits off here.’

The address Jimmy Duff had given them was for a small, bland, two-up, two-down on the outskirts of Blackburn. It sat in the middle of a row of identical houses, all sulking away beneath the featureless grey sky. A wee blue mini was parked at the kerb, in front of a neglected garden decorated with gnomes.

‘You know,’ said Steel, as Rickards pulled up opposite and killed the engine, ‘I’m thinking of going blonde.’

Logan checked the details he’d printed off back at the station. ‘Vicky Peterson … You sure you don’t recognize the name?’

‘They say blondes have more fun. But they also say two’s company and three’s a crowd, and we know that’s shite, don’t we, Spanky? Three’s a very fine number in the bed department.’

‘Er …’ Rickards coughed, then looked back between the seats at Logan. ‘It doesn’t ring any bells, but she might not go by her real name at munches.’ And then his face fell. ‘Not that I’ll ever be able to set foot in one again. I’m-’

‘Blah, blah, blah.’ Steel clambered out into the cold morning. ‘We’ve put up with your whinging all the way from the bloody station: OK, we get it. Your life’s ruined. Everyone hates you. It’s no’ fair. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Now shut up about it.’ She slammed the car door and Rickards sagged even further into his seat.

‘She doesn’t understand! Nobody understands … they were my family. The only people who understood what it’s like.’ He sighed. ‘How would you feel if you could never speak to your family ever again?’

Logan didn’t even have to think about it, ‘Fucking delighted.’ It wasn’t the answer the constable was expecting, but at least it shut him up.

Steel was waiting for them at the front door, stomping her feet and blowing into her cupped hands, making little clouds of steam. ‘About time.’ She hoicked a thumb at the bell. ‘Spanky, you’re on point.’

A long-suffering sigh, and Rickards leant on the bell. Brrrrrrrrrrrringgggggg.

‘What d’you think?’ Steel asked as they waited.

‘Well,’ Logan looked up at the building, ‘I checked with records — no one reported a break-in at this address. Wouldn’t be the first time Duff’s sold us a line. He’s not exactly the font of all honesty.’

Steel slapped him on the arm. ‘Not bloody Duff! Me: blonde or auburn?’

‘Oh, er …’ Saved by the answer to the bell. The door creaked open revealing a familiar-looking woman: slightly shorter than Rickards, green eyes, shiny brown ponytail, overweight, expensive casual clothes, shocked expression-

‘Tina?’ The constable waved and Logan groaned. Tina. The intense one from Rickard’s bondage group, the one who wouldn’t shut up about Jack and his Bloody Beanstalk. ‘Er … can we come in?’

Tina, AKA Vicky Peterson, looked Rickards up and down. ‘You never said you were a policeman.’

‘Er … sorry about that.’

There was an awkward silence. ‘Do they let you take your handcuffs home?’

The constable got as far as another, ‘Er …’ when Steel poked him in the back and said, ‘Get a shift on, Spanky: we’re freezing out here!’

Rickards went bright red. ‘Can we … er …’

Tina rolled her eyes, gave a big, dramatic sigh, then turned and marched into the house. ‘Sure, why not. Wipe your feet though.’

Logan hung back, cursing Jimmy Duff’s name.