Dark Blood

Logan rubbed a hand over his bruised face. ‘Everything causes me bloody stress. Everyone causes me stress. It’s like they’re holding a competition to see who can piss me off the most.’

‘I see…’ More scribbling. ‘Have you been doing your breathing exercises?’

‘Course I have.’ Which was a lie.

‘Knox strikes me as a rather conflicted character.’

‘No shit.’

‘He’s got this deep-seated religious belief system which has to be in complete contradiction to his psycho-sexual landscape.’

Logan watched Wardrobe drag his handler on to the next plot. ‘You don’t think the whole God-bothering thing is just a front?’

‘Don’t see what he’d gain from it. To be frank, I’m more worried that he’s gone out and got himself an omnipotent invisible friend.’ There was a pause. ‘Who’s stressing you the most?’

‘Bloody DI Steel. She’s got it into her head that I’ve got an attitude problem. That I’m too cynical. That I drink too much.’

Silence.

Logan scowled. ‘What?’

‘And how does that make you feel?’

‘Stressed. Remember? That was the point of the-’

‘Do you drink too much?’

‘No! OK, so I have the odd glass of wine, but-’

‘Maybe you’re angry with her because you think she’s right.’

‘She is not right!’

‘Well, we can always talk more about that at your next session.’ There was a click and line became a lot clearer — Goulding must have taken him off speaker-phone again. ‘The thing about religious obsessives — I mean the proper card-carrying have-you-accepted-Jesus-into-your-life neurotics — is that they’re often buying into a belief system that justifies their lifestyle choices. Homophobia, misogyny, exclusion. For Knox to join in, given his past is…well, let’s call it “worrying”.’

‘I mean, I don’t wake up wanting to get blootered, do I? Just been under a lot of pressure recently.’

‘I think there’s a very real chance he’s going to offend again and sooner rather than later.’

‘It’s not like I’m an alcoholic or anything.’

‘Can you get me in to see him?’

‘What? Oh, erm…possibly. I’ll have to check.’

‘Good. Now you and I need to get a proper session organized. I’ve got a cancellation on Monday you can have.’

‘Do we have to?’

‘Yes, twelve noon. And don’t forget — I need to see Knox ASAP.’ Another pause. ‘And maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try laying off the booze for a bit, OK? Might make you a bit less edgy.’

Logan hung up and rammed the phone back in his pocket. Liverpudlian git. Why did everyone have to bang on about his drinking? OK, so he was only just crawling out from under a gargantuan hangover, but that wasn’t his fault, was it? Having to deal with Knox, Steel giving him a hard time, beating Reuben up, the bribe…Enough to turn anyone to drink.

God it was cold.

He stomped his feet, scanning the building site for PC Martin and Wardrobe the Wonder Dog. The pair of them had almost made it to the first part-built house — a bare timber frame reaching up into the cold grey sky.

Logan wandered over, hands twitching through his pockets, looking for a pack of cigarettes. Only the second one today. Which was a bit of a record, considering how crappy-

‘Excuse me, exactly what do you think you’re doing?’ It was the man from the site office, not Big-and-Bald, but the other one: ridiculous trimmed beard, comb-over hidden beneath a bright orange hard hat.

Logan pulled out the sheet of paper they’d picked up at the Procurator Fiscal’s office on Guild Street on their way over and kept on walking. ‘Mr…?’

‘This is a private development. I’m going to have to ask you to-’

‘I have a warrant here to search-’

‘-leave, or do I have to call site security…?’ The man trailed off, staring at the handcuffs dangling from Logan’s index finger.

‘Police.’

He curled his top lip. ‘I thought you said you were a debt collector for some sort of local bookies.’

The man obviously thought Logan was an idiot. Mr Big-and-Bald had looked him straight in the eye and called him ‘Officer’. They knew fine what he was.

‘Speaking of “site security”, where is he? Your bald mate with the big dog?’

‘I don’t see what that has to do with-’

Logan thrust the warrant at him. ‘I think I’ll decide what’s relevant, don’t you, Mr…?’

‘Joseph Brett, project manager.’ He raised his chin. ‘And may I ask exactly why you feel it necessary to search a perfectly legitimate-’

‘Don’t mind me.’ PC Martin clumped past, dragged along behind a panting Wardrobe, then disappeared around the corner. Doing a lap of the perimeter.

‘And you say you haven’t seen Stephen Polmont since Monday?’

Pink rushed up the man’s cheeks, clashing with his orange hard hat. ‘I didn’t say anything of the sort. I said he was suspected of stealing electrical equipment and disappeared before we could contact the police.’

‘Right…’ Logan turned and watched the constable and the Labrador work their way across to the next house in line. The ground floor was already clad in a skin of pale-yellow brick, partially hidden behind a web of scaffolding. Two men in padded overalls and thick woolly hats were laying down the next course, their paint-spattered radio blaring out Radio 2. ‘Big development: four hundred houses. That’s a lot of money.’

‘It’s-’

‘Course, it’s nothing compared with how much your boss rakes in from drugs, loan sharks, and prostitutes, is it?’

The project manager stared out across the rutted mud. ‘Is this little search of yours going to take long? A development this size doesn’t run itself.’

‘Might want to tell Mr McLennan it’s not a good idea to go muscling in on someone else’s territory. Burning bridges with the local community.’ Logan jammed his hands deeper in his pockets. ‘Aberdeen doesn’t need any more scumbags, Mr Brett, we’ve got enough of our own.’

The project manager straightened his hard hat. ‘McLennan Homes is a law-abiding company. We build family homes, community centres, libraries. We do not deal drugs or start gang wars. And anyone who says we do is going to be looking at a lawsuit.’ He turned a cold smile on Logan. ‘Are we clear?’

PC Martin appeared around the other side of the house, no Wardrobe. She grinned at them. ‘He’s got something!’

Logan hurried over through the ruts of dirty brown earth. The Labrador was lying down beside the wall at the rear of the property.

PC Martin bent down and ruffled the dog’s ears again. ‘Who’s a clever boy? You are. Yes you are!’

Wardrobe’s tail thumped against the frozen earth.

‘Well, well.’ Logan turned and smiled at the project manager. ‘Looks like we might have found your missing sparky after all.’