Steel didn’t look up from the paperwork heaped on her desk. ‘Bugger all.’
Fair enough.
Logan added another couple of sheets to the pile. ‘I got them to pull all the security camera footage for any business within half a mile of the Sacro flat, like Danby wanted. No sign of Knox.’
Steel was a dead jellyfish in her chair, staring at the ceiling tiles, limbs hanging loose. ‘Finnie’s going mental, the newspapers and TV are milking it like a pregnant hoor, peasants are revolting, and we’ve still got sod all clue where Knox is.’
‘You speak to Finnie and Beattie yet?’
‘Susan won’t talk to me, my career’s a used sodding tampon, I’ve got itchy bits, and I’m out of fags.’ Scowl. ‘If there is a God, He’s a rotten bastard.’
Logan dug out a packet of Silk Cut and chucked it onto the desk. ‘I’m cutting down.’
She just flopped there. ‘Why am I even bothering?’
‘Gallagher’s up in front of the Sheriff at half three, want to have another go at him? Or the van driver?’
‘Never makes any bloody difference, does it?’ She winkled out one of Logan’s cigarettes and opened her office window. ‘Where’s Danby?’
Logan stared at her. ‘Are you going to speak to Finnie and Beattie, or not?’
‘I’ll talk to them. Jesus: nag, nag, nag. You’re worse than bloody Susan.’
‘Do you want to get me fired?’
‘I
It was one of those touch-screen jobs, all new and shiny. It must have cost a fortune. Logan felt his face flush. ‘Thanks.’
‘Nicked it from the lost-and-found. Get your mate the van driver in an interview room and I’ll go see Lord Volderfinnie.’
The sim card was about the only bit of Logan’s mobile still in one piece. He popped the back off his new — slightly stolen — phone, slipped it in, and turned the thing on. There was a small pause, then the dings and bleeps started. ‘YOU HAVE 57 NEW MESSAGES’.
Logan switched it off again. Sod that.
He headed downstairs instead, signed the van driver out of custody and stuck him in interview room number two. The one with the broken radiator, that stank of cheesy feet.
Arnie Urquhart cupped his hands to his mouth and blew. He had ‘HATE’ tattooed between both sets of knuckles, a blue swallow on the side of his neck, a spider’s web on his wrist, and eyes that darted left and right every time anyone in the room moved.
Logan sat on the other side of the interview room table, the audio and video tapes all set up and ready to go as soon as DI Steel arrived. PC Butler was on looming duty, just over Urquhart’s shoulder.
The van driver licked his lips. ‘Always this cold in here?’
Logan stared at him. ‘Did I say you could speak?’
Urquhart shrank back in his seat. ‘Sorry.’
So much for the hard man act.
He was right though, the little room was freezing.
Logan thumped an evidence bag down on the tabletop. There were two rectangular packages inside, both about the size of a house brick, wrapped in light-brown packing tape. One was slit open, showing the hard-packed powder within. ‘Uncut heroin. About six hundred and fifty thousand quid’s worth.’
Urquhart squirmed. ‘It’s-’
‘Did that sound like a question to you?’
He pressed his lips together. Looked down at his tattooed hands. Shrugged.
‘This stuff came from Fraserburgh, didn’t it? Saturday night.’
Urquhart fidgeted.
‘You can answer that.’
‘It…I don’t…’
‘A DI was stabbed, Arnie. That’s attempted murder, and you’re an accomplice.’
He flinched, as if he’d been slapped. ‘But…’
Logan suppressed a smile. Now all they needed was Steel to get her finger out and-
The door opened. Speak of the devil. The inspector stood just outside the room, lips pressed into a thin, downturned line. ‘Stick him back in his cell.’
Logan got to his feet. ‘Mr Urquhart was just about to-’
‘I don’t care. Our wee art student friend with the counterfeit twenties: his mum and dad just got back from Corfu, found him in his bedroom. Gin and sleeping tablets.’
41
‘He was in here.’ The PC opened the door.
The familiar smells of turpentine, oil paint, and bitter vomit curled around Logan as he followed Steel into the room. The house was silent, just the
The constable flicked on the light, turning the window into a mirror.
Douglas Walker’s bedroom looked much the same as it had the last time Logan was there: the same half- sketched painting on the easel, the same unmade single bed, the same flat-pack wardrobe, the same little computer desk and cheap swivel chair.
The only difference was the puddle of sick on the floor, next to an empty litre bottle of Plymouth gin and a little white packet from a chemists. Logan snapped on a pair of gloves, squatted down, picked up the empty packet and read the label. ‘Temazepam.’
Steel wrinkled her nose. ‘Can we no’ open a window or something?’
Logan levered up the edge of the mattress, peering between it and the bed frame. Nothing.
The inspector’s voice came from over by the wardrobe. ‘If you’re looking for porn, I can bring some in tomorrow. You like Dutch gay hardcore, right?’
‘Looking for counterfeit money,
She glanced around the room. ‘He leave a note or anything?’
The constable shrugged. ‘Dunno, didn’t want to disturb anything.’
‘Bet he left a poem. Artistic types always leave bloody poetry.’
Logan went through the chest of drawers, wardrobe, computer desk, the toolbox full of oil paints and charcoals, but there was no sign of any notes — suicide or counterfeit. ‘Nothing.’
‘Wanted to keep it mysterious.’
Logan stared at her. ‘It’s not funny.’
She shrugged. ‘If he’d actually managed to do himself in,
The constable shifted his feet. ‘He’s in a coma.’
Logan knelt on the floor, taking care to avoid the puddle of sick. Nothing under the bed either.
‘Don’t see what the problem is.’ Steel leant back and had a scratch. ‘I mean, you want to kill yourself — up to you isn’t it? Long as you don’t do it driving the wrong way up the motorway, it’s nobody’s business but…’ She stopped fiddling with herself and scowled at Logan. ‘What?’
‘He was terrified they were going to put his name in the papers.’
‘Didn’t want mummy and daddy dearest to know.’
‘Or,’ Logan stood, taking another look around the room, ‘maybe he thought whoever he got the cash from would come after him? Might be some clue in the suicide note, if we can find it.’
