‘Don’t be stupid, Douglas. All they’ll say is you’ve been charged with passing a large sum of counterfeit currency. Can’t be libel when it’s the truth.’
‘No…’ It came out low and quiet. ‘They can’t put my name in the papers. They
Logan sat back. ‘Dear God, a member of Generation-Y who doesn’t want his name in the papers. Don’t you
Douglas curled up, until his forehead thunked against the table. ‘They can’t…’ Voice small and trembling.
‘You know what?’ Logan scooted his chair forward. ‘You’re right to be scared, because your friend Kevin Middleton — the nice man who sold you that second-hand Honda Civic? We arrested him this afternoon. He says you’ve been supplying him with counterfeit money, not just the notes you tried to buy the car with. The Sheriff’s not going to like that, is he? An extra twenty grand of dodgy cash on the streets, because of you.’
He buried his head in his arms. ‘I’m fucked…’
‘Yes, you are. And I’m the only person who can un-fuck you. Now where did you get the money from?’
‘Yeah, if you could, thanks…’ DI Beattie shifted his phone from one side to the other, and looked up at Logan standing in the office doorway. ‘Can I call you back?’
He hung up and stared. ‘I’ve been phoning you all day.’
‘My mobile had a run-in with a sledgehammer. That meeting’s set up for half past four, today — two from Trading Standards and one of the Revenue’s top people.’
Beattie’s face broke into a big, hairy smile. ‘That’s brilliant news.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Look, about earlier…’ He paused, obviously waiting for Logan to jump in and say it wasn’t a problem. Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge.
Well, sod him.
Logan let the silence stretch, enjoying it.
‘I wanted you to know I didn’t put in a formal complaint.’
And then he wasn’t enjoying himself quite so much. Feeling like a bit of a child for making Beattie struggle for it.
‘I hope this means we can work together now?’
‘Yes…Guv.’ Didn’t matter if he was trying to act like a grown-up or not, there was still no way Logan was calling the beardy idiot ‘Sir’ or ‘Boss’. That would be taking things too far.
‘OK.’ Nod. ‘Good…Half four.’ Beattie looked around his office. ‘I don’t think we’ll all fit, but-’
‘The Shop Cops have got a meeting room organized at St Nicholas House. All we’ve got to do is bring the biscuits.’
The smile became a grin. ‘Excellent. Biscuits, yes…’ He produced a fiver from his wallet and handed it over. ‘You see to the biscuits and I’ll get going on the PowerPoint presentation.’
Logan suppressed the urge to shudder. ‘Yes, Guv.’
‘And Logan…?’
‘Yes, Guv?’
‘Good work. Thanks.’
Logan actually took a step back. It’d been ages since a DI had bothered to say thank you for anything. Maybe Beattie wasn’t such a tit after all?
Steel was in her office, two doors down, with her feet up on her desk, frowning at a pile of paperwork. Probably trying to work out who to palm it off on.
Logan knocked on the open door — please let someone else have to deal with whatever crap she had on her desk.
‘Ah.’ She looked up. ‘Just the wee man I’ve been looking for.’
Bugger.
‘Shut the door, and lock it.’
Logan did, while the inspector cracked open her office window, then pulled out her cigarettes and jiggled the pack at him.
‘Trying to cut down.’
‘Suit yourself.’ She lit up, exhaling a happy cloud of smoke and sighing. ‘So, what did our friend the art student have to say for himself?’
‘Sod all. Doesn’t want his name in the papers, doesn’t want to cut a deal, doesn’t want to go to prison.’
Sniff. ‘Silly git.’ Her left hand drifted down below the desk. ‘Still, McNab’ll stick him out on bail and we can have another poke in a couple of days. If we can be arsed.’
‘Got some good news on Polmont though: all the stuff we got from his flat is knock-off — even the vodka’s fake. And guess who had identical counterfeit goods on him?’
‘Basil Brush?’
‘Angus Black.’ Logan placed Angus’s statement in the middle of Steel’s desk. ‘Apparently he got the drugs
‘Who typed this?’ She held the statement out at arms’ length. ‘Can barely read a bloody thing.’
‘I ran a PNC check — they’re Malcolm McLennan’s boys.’
‘What about…’ She pulled a face at him. ‘Malcolm McLennan?’
‘It’s his name isn’t it? Both have done time for drugs and extortion, and according to Angus Black their boss is a big bald guy with a huge dog.’
Steel tapped the report against her cheek. ‘The elusive Mr Connelly?’
‘Plus…’ Logan pulled one of Polmont’s battered journals out of the pile on Steel’s desk and flicked through it to a page he’d marked with a yellow stickie. One of the sparky’s more legible entries. ‘“New shipment coming in for G and Y. Maybe leave it alone this time — think they suspect.” G and Y appear about every two weeks.’
‘Do they now?’ She grinned and scratched. ‘Smells like corroboration to me.’
‘And best of all, Angus gave us an address.’
‘Warrant?’
‘Couple of hours. McNab’s on the bench till four, and Harper’s in Lerwick for that fish farm murder.’
Steel blew a stream of smoke out into the snow. ‘Get Uniform organized; soon as the warrant clears we’ll go pay Malk the Knife’s wee toerags a visit.’
‘Can’t.’ Logan pulled his jacket shut and buttoned it. With the window open it was getting nippy in here. ‘Got a meeting with Beattie, HMRC, and the Shop Cops at half four — supposed to be working out what to do about all the fake goods knocking about…I’d cancel it, but Beattie’s got his heart set on showing off his PowerPoint skills and I’m trying to be nice to him. Like you said.’
Steel settled back in her chair, one hand foostering about under the desk. ‘You’ve done well, young grasshopper.’
Two pats on the back in one day — throw in a bottle of wine and some energetic sex and this would be the best day he’d had in about…two years?
Might as well push his luck. Logan put his head on one side and stared at Steel.
She stopped scratching. ‘What?’
‘Why’s Danby so interested in Polmont?’
Steel puckered up her face. ‘No’ going to let that one go, are you?’
‘Nope.’
Silence.
‘OK. Seeing as you’ve been such a good boy: Polmont’s what we call a serial chiz. Before Aberdeen he was ratting on Malk the Knife in Edinburgh. Before Edinburgh-’
‘He worked for Mental Mikey.’
Steel made guns with her fingers and shot Logan in the head. ‘Bull’s-eye.’
Which explained a lot. ‘That’s why Danby’s got one of Polmont’s journals.’
‘Covers the time he was in Newcastle.’ Steel finished her fag and pinged the butt out into the snow. ‘Anything
