Logan knew it had been too good to last. The only surprise was that it'd taken the Insch this long ... He turned and marched through the spotless conservatory; the bombsite lounge with its overturned furniture, smashed ornaments, and bloodstains; then out into the hall, where DC Rennie was trying to stop DI Insch from storming into the house. 'It's OK,' Logan tapped the constable on the shoulder. 'Why don't you go see to the teas?' He let Rennie squeeze past, then stepped forwards to block the entrance. 'Inspector?' 'I was out walking Lucy, and I spotted the IB van.' Insch gestured at the grubby transit parked in Brooks' drive with 'ALSO AVAILABLE IN WHITE' finger-painted in the filth. Behind him, his ancient Springer Spaniel sat on the wet grass, legs akimbo, slowly absorbing the drizzle. 'What can we do for you?' The huge man glowered at him from the threshold. 'You can let me in for a bloody start.' 'Sorry, sir, this is an active crime scene.' Insch rested a fat finger in the middle of Logan's chest. 'Remember I'm going to be back in charge again tomorrow, Sergeant. You might not want to go pissing me off right now. Step aside.' 'I can't do that. You know I can't do that.' Insch's finger withdrew two inches, then rammed forward into Logan's chest. 'Suspended or not, I am your superior officer. And I swear to God, if you don't get out of my bloody way--' 'What, you'll punch me in the face? Again?' Logan looked down at the cast-iron digit, then up at the inspector. 'Sir, I know he was your friend. And I know you want to catch whoever did it. But do you think you could try fucking trusting me for five minutes and let me do my job?' Insch actually backed off a step. 'Look, we'll be finished here soon. An hour tops. We'll have to leave someone outside till we can get the back door boarded up. But if you're a friend of the family you'll have a key. You can let yourself in.' The inspector turned away, watching as his decrepit spaniel embarked on a vigorous ear-scratching campaign. There was a pause, then,'I don't have a key.' 'Wait here.' Logan ducked back into the hall and picked a likely candidate from the pegboard above the telephone, then tried it in the Yale lock. Perfect fit. He held it out to Insch. 'Brooks must have given it to you a while ago, just in case he had to go away. So you could water the plants.' The inspector stuck out a vast paw, and Logan dropped the key in it. Insch turned without a word and marched away down the garden path, taking his stinky, soggy old dog with him.
21
It was half past four before the joiner turned up to board up Brooks' back door. Logan watched him nailing the huge sheet of plywood into place, doing his best to ignore the man's rambling moan about all these Eastern Europeans coming over here and undercutting honest tradesmen like him. Then asked if Logan needed any jobs doing on the QT for cash...? Logan did one last circuit of the house, making sure the IB hadn't left anything behind, then stepped out into the rainy night and locked the front door. A lone rocket screeched into the dark orange sky, exploding in a tiny puff of golden sparks. Not exactly spectacular. He climbed behind the wheel of his pool car and sat there, listening to the rain tapping on the roof, looking out at Brooks' house. Maybe he should go round and tell Insch the place was all his? Not that it'd do the inspector any good - there was nothing there to link Wiseman with Brooks' death. The Butcher was too clever for that.
