'Ah, about that: maybe you'd be better off with Rennie?'
'Rennie? No' exactly grade-A genetic material, is he?'
'I just think it'd be…' Horrifying was the first word that sprang to mind. 'It'd be awkward, you and me working together if you were the… mother of my child?'
'Susan would be the mother.'
'So what would you be, the father?'
'The… I don't know, do I? All I'm asking for is a turkeybaster's worth of sperm. You probably wasted that much up in the storeroom-'
Logan's phone started ringing and he grabbed at the excuse. 'McRae.' He listened in silence for a minute, a smile slowly spreading across his face. Then he thanked the man on the other end and hung up. 'That was Bill from fingerprints. We've got a match on the petrol bomb. Kevin Murray — he got slashed last Friday night, four hoodies nearly cut his nose off.'
Steel grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair. 'Right, get a car and we'll go see what he's got to say for himself.'
Logan backed away. 'Oh no you don't: my shift finished two and a half hours ago. I'm going home.'
'Oh, don't be such a wimp. Don't see me sneaking off when there's work to be done, do you?'
'You spent all day snoring off a hangover! At least I've done some work today.'
She squinted at him, and Logan could almost hear the evil little cogs working in her brain. 'Be a shame,' she said at last, 'if anyone found out you and our friendly neighbourhood Goth were going at it in the IB lab like a couple of horny teenagers.'
'Not going to work.'
'All that forensic evidence compromised by your dirty little urges…'
'Even you're not that much of a bitch. And everything was in evidence bags, thank you very much.'
Steel drummed her fingers against the desktop. 'I'll sign off on your overtime?' 'Still say we should've got a warrant.' Logan looked up at the two-bedroom semi and locked the car door.
'Wah, wah, wah; I want a warrant; I want backup; my shift's over — I want to go home; boo-hoo.' Steel lit a cigarette and blew a small plume of smoke into the evening sky. 'If we'd sodded about waiting for a warrant we'd still be here at midnight.' She started up the short path to the front door. 'Well, come on then, don't want to keep you from your red-haired semen thief.'
'Will you stop that?'
'No' as if you're using the bloody stuff, is it?'
Logan leant on the doorbell. 'This is sexual harassment.'
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring…
A muffled voice came from inside, 'Just a minute.' And then the door opened, revealing a short, older woman with a wide face and an ugly haircut. But she had a lovely smile. 'Can I help you?'
The inspector nodded, 'Aye, Kevin Murray about?'
The woman ran an eye over Steel, then did the same with Logan. 'What's he done now?'
'He's won the National Lottery,' said Steel, 'we're here to give him his big cardboard cheque.' She sooked the last gasp from her fag, then pinged the stub away into the gutter. 'He in?'
The woman's face hardened — eyes thin slits, mouth turned down at the edges. She walked back into the house, motioning for them to follow. The sound of something sickeningly cheerful blared out from the lounge. A little girl and boy sat on the rug in front of the television, gazing with rapt attention at a singing warthog and meerkat.
Kevin Murray was slumped on the settee, a tin of lager dangling from the fingers of one hand.
The woman stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the TV. 'Kevin, it's the police.'
Kevin looked up, frowned, tried to focus, then gave up and had another swig from his can. His nose was hidden behind a wodge of bandages, a gauze pad held in place over his nostrils by a couple of ties that went all the way around his emaciated head. Another clump of gauze had been taped over his cheek, the white fabric stained with yellow and dark red blobs. 'Told you no' to open the door, Ma.' It sounded as if he had a heavy cold. 'Could be anyone, like.'
'We had a deal, Kevin: you could stay here if you kept out of trouble.'
He shrugged. 'No trouble, Ma, no trouble at all. Keepin' myself to myself, like. You know?'
Steel looked at the little kids watching the television for a moment. Then said, 'Can we have a word in the kitchen, Kevin?'
Kevin drained the last of his lager and belched. 'I'm comfy here.'
'Let's no' do this in front of the kids, eh?'
'Hey, no one's forcin' you to do anythin'. I've got no secrets from my wee angels. You wanna arrest me? You do it right here.'
His mother slapped him on the shoulder. 'Kevin, you promised me!'
'I never did nothin'.'
Steel stuck her hands in her pockets. 'What do you think's going to screw your kids up more: the fact you got arrested, or the fact you made the poor little sods watch?'
Kevin's mum hit him again. 'What did he do this time?'
'Ow! I told you, I never did-'
'We've got a petrol bomb with his fingerprints all over it. Found it in the burnt-out remains of a betting shop.'
'Kevin!' His mother belted him across the back of the head, then dragged him out of the armchair by the ear.
'Aaagh! Let go! Ma, you're hurting-'
'Kevin Murray, you swore on your father's grave you'd behave if I took you in! What sort of example are you setting for Britney and Justin?'
Britney and Justin didn't even turn around as their grandmother hauled their father out into the hall and started battering the living hell out of him: raining slaps down on his head as he cowered in the corner by the front door. 'What — ' slap '- did — ' slap '- I — ' slap '- tell — ' slap '- you?'
Steel closed the lounge door, shutting out the singing animal noises. 'Actually, Mrs Murray, we kind of like to beat up our own suspects. So if you don't mind…?'
Kevin's mother delivered one last ringing slap. 'Go on, tell them what happened. The truth, or so help me I'll swing for you!'
'But I didnae-'
His mother raised her hand again.
'OK, OK! I did it.' He glanced up at Logan and Steel, then back to the floor. 'It wasnae… I didnae want to. But they said they knew where I lived and they'd come round and cut my kids and my Ma if I didn't torch the place.'
Logan pulled out his notebook. 'Who were they?'
Kevin kept his eyes on the carpet. 'Don't remember, do I.'
His mother hit him again.
'Stop it! It was the guys what did this…' He pointed at the mass of bandages covering his slashed nose. 'So yeah, I chucked a petrol bomb into the bookies.'
Steel whistled. 'They'd have to be pretty damn scary people, Kevin. Firebombing the Turf 'n Track? Did you no' think the McLeods would be a wee bit annoyed when they found out?'
'Aye, but the McLeods are old school. I do somethin' to them: they come after me, no' my kids. Or my Ma. What choice did I have? Eh?' He stood tall as his mother patted him on the arm. 'If you had kids, you'd understand.' While DI Steel wrestled Kevin Murray into the back of the car, Logan phoned Finnie, telling him that they'd arrested the man responsible for firebombing the Turf 'n Track.
'Excellent.' The DCI demanded a blow-by-blow account then asked the big question: 'Is he going to give us the Manchester Muppets who put him up to it?'
Logan watched Kevin Murray arguing with Steel.
'Probably not.'
There was a pause that went on and on and on and…
