‘Danny’s a bit behind on his payments, OK? These guys don’t come round and repossess your telly, they repossess your kneecaps.’
Logan looked up at Stacy. Standing there in the snow, with the security light behind her, she had a glowing halo of little sparkly flecks, like an angel who’d forgotten to use a condom. ‘Names.’
‘OK, OK. Jesus…Stacy Gardner. You happy now?’ She folded her arms over her swollen belly, muttering, ‘Fascist Nazi bastard.’
‘Oh…Right. I…ahem…don’t really know.’
‘Fine.’ Logan stood. ‘Stacy Gardner, I’m arresting you for assaulting a police officer—’
‘I don’t know, OK? Danny sorted it all out.’
After being outside in the snow, the caravan was cosy and steamy, the gas heater hissing away to itself. Logan tried to shut the door behind him, struggling to get it into the buckled frame. Danny was hunched over the little kitchen sink, face down in the soapy water.
Stacy pulled off her thick-rimmed glasses and wiped them on the hem of her hoodie. Then slapped her fiance on the back. ‘Danny, tell him about the blokes you got the money off.’
He rose from the basin, dripping wet, his red face covered with soapy bubbles. His eyes were still scrunched up, all pink and swollen, but he did a swift scan around the room before saying anything. ‘You ken whit these guys are like, I can’t—’
She hit him again. ‘Do you
‘But they’ll—’
‘Your pregnant girlfriend, in handcuffs?’
‘Stacy, love, we—’
‘Sharing a cell with some junkie lesbian scumbag?’
‘But—’
‘God, I
‘Come on, Pooks, don’t be like that…’
Her shoulders came up. ‘Don’t you “Pooks” me.’
Danny turned his swollen squint on Logan. ‘I dinna know their names. Got introduced by a friend of a friend.’
Logan held up the handcuffs again. ‘No deal.’
‘Honest, I dinna remember, it’s—’
‘How’s the face?’ Logan stepped forward and peered at the bright-pink skin. ‘Looks sore.’
Shrug. ‘Soapy water’s helping, but it—’
Logan reached out, placed the back of his thumbnail against Danny’s cheek, then raked it downwards.
‘What the hell was that…?’ Danny’s swollen eyes bugged, he gasped, then went, ‘AAAAAAAAAAGH!’ Clutching his hand over the new scarlet line down his face. Deep breath. ‘AAAAAAAAAAGH!’
He plunged his head back into the sink, sending soap suds spattering up the walls, across the working surface, and out onto the carpet. Gurgling and glubbing.
Stacy turned, sniffed, then thumped herself down on the bench by the table. ‘Serves you right.’
‘Burns, doesn’t it?’ Logan settled back against the wall. ‘That’s why you’re not supposed to rub – it opens up the capillaries and lets the capsicum oil in. Disco inferno.’
Danny surfaced, dragged in a deep breath, then dived in again.
Logan grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him out. ‘Who loaned you the money?’
‘My face…’
‘You’re a Christian, right Danny? Feel like turning the other cheek?’ Logan held his thumb up again.
‘NO! No…I’ll…It was these two new blokes with posh accents, Angus Black put us on till them, they was in the snug at Dodgy Pete’s—’
‘Names, Danny, Mr Thumb’s getting itchy again.’
‘Gallagher and Yates, that’s all I know, I didn’t get first names, please it—’
Logan let go and he splooshed into the sink again, sending another mini tidal wave crashing to the carpet.
Stacy folded her arms under her swollen breasts. ‘And if you think I’m cleaning that up, Danny Saunders, you’ve got another think coming!’
Logan looked around for something to dry his hands on, but all the tea towels smelled of yoghurt. ‘He’d better be telling the truth, or I’ll be back for the pair of you, understand?’
Stacy just stuck her nose in the air.
Logan let himself out.
He hauled the car up onto the pavement behind a dented blue skip overflowing with battered kitchen cabinets, swathes of plaster, and a stained mattress. A streetlight washed the road in sulphur-yellow light. Like God had peed on everything.
