Close to the Bone

‘Not enough for plane tickets, too much for train tickets. And if she was clearing his account out, why not withdraw the full three hundred? Bank says he’s still got another three and a half grand.’

Logan dumped the biro in the bin with the suspicious tissues. ‘Two sixty would buy you a reasonable quantity of weed. She left hers at home.’

‘We followed her through the CCTV from Markies, Union Street, Schoolhill, then she disappears down some steps beside the theatre. There’s nothing else on camera.’

‘GSM trace? ’

She flashed her teeth in a quick grimace. ‘Sorry, Guv, we’re getting nothing on Anthony or Agnes’s phone. They’ve either got their mobiles switched off, they’re out of battery, or they’ve ditched them. Control are keeping an eye on it — if there’s any activity they’ll let us know.’

So much for a quick and easy result. ‘Anthony Chung: he’s got a car, hasn’t he? ’

‘Nissan Skyline. The insurance must be costing his parents a fortune.’

‘Get a lookout request on it.’ Logan nudged the wastepaper basket back where it came from. Just have to do this the old-fashioned way. ‘Right, someone’s got to know where they’re staying, so-’

‘I’ve put together a list of Agnes and Anthony’s friends.’ She flipped open her notebook and held it out. The page was covered with names and addresses. ‘And I’ve booked out a pool car for the rest of the day.’

He smiled. ‘Then let’s go see who’s in the mood for squealing.’

‘Yeah, we were like, you know, completely best friends.’ Dan Fisher leaned against the countertop, stringy tattooed arms poking out from the short sleeves of his crumpled shirt with the pub’s name embroidered onto it. ‘Ton and me was like. . Han and Chewie, right? ’

‘Were? ’ Logan settled onto the bar stool. ‘Past tense? ’

‘Yeah. .’ A shrug. The lobe of Dan’s left ear was stretched around a hollow cylinder, big enough to poke a tube of Smarties through. Three silver hoops above that, one more through his nose, and a stud in his bottom lip like a metal cold sore. Black hair, collar-length on one side and shaved to the scalp on the other. ‘We kinda fell out a bit. You know, with Rowan and everything. He was all,’ Dan put on a broad American accent, cranking up the volume, ‘“She’s a Goddamned nympho in the sack, you ain’t gonna believe what she did last night. .” Always boasting, and I. .’ He bit his bottom lip. ‘I didn’t think he should treat her like that.’

Chalmers flipped to the next page in her notebook, pen at the ready. ‘Rowan? ’

A nod. ‘Yeah, she doesn’t like being called Agnes. Can’t blame her, right? Stupid name.’

‘And that’s why you fell out with Anthony Chung? ’

Dan pulled out a smartphone and poked at it for a moment, then held it out. Grainy camera footage flickered across the screen. A group of young men and women in a pub somewhere, everything stained satsuma orange by the indoor lighting. Laughter crackled out of the little speaker, and the picture moved in on a couple snogging in the corner of the booth. His hair was longer than hers, black and shiny, hers was brown, wavy, pulled back in a ponytail. He slipped a hand up the front of her T-shirt. And then the kissing stopped and she jerked away from him.

It was Agnes Garfield, though not as pretty in pixelvision as she was in the ‘HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WOMAN? ’ posters. ‘Damnit, you’ve got to let it heal!’ She slapped him hard enough to make his sunglasses fly off. ‘Bastard!’ And then she was off, shoving out of the booth and stomping out of shot.

Silence. Then the guy picked up his glasses and hurried after her. ‘Rowan, please, come on, I didn’t mean it. .’ Everyone else laughed.

Dan pressed stop, then put the phone away. ‘Only just had it pierced.’

‘And that was a regular occurrence.’

‘At least twice a week. She’s a great girl. Bit screwed up, but she completely dotes on him — even though he treats her like crap. Screwing around behind her back, pissed and stoned all the time, telling her it’s her fault and she makes him do it. And she just takes it, forgives him, lets him get away with it.’ Dan fiddled with the big hole in his ear. ‘You know what happened on Valentine’s Day? He made her get his name tattooed on her thigh. I mean, tattoos are cool and everything, but he was just marking his territory, right? Can you believe that? Wanker.’ Dan coiled one hand into a fist. ‘But she doesn’t see it, you can’t talk to her any more. .’

Logan took a sip of his water. ‘So you fought.’

‘Yeah. .’ Dan opened his mouth, stuck a finger under his top lip and lifted, showing off a gap where a tooth should have been. ‘Got in a couple of decent punches, but Ton’s like a bloody ninja, isn’t he? ’

‘And let me guess, Agnes wasn’t exactly grateful you’d stood up for her? ’

‘Came round that night and kneed me in the nads.’ He looked off down the bar, where a pair of huge women were bellowing out Sid James laughs, cleavage all a-wobble. ‘How could she let him treat her like that, you know? I would’ve looked after her. .’

‘. .at it like, I dunno, just arguments and fights and that.’ Clive McWilliams took a long drag on his cigarette, then oozed it out in a slow breath. Smoke curled in the thick moustache and ludicrously long goatee beard. He couldn’t have been much older than nineteen, but he had the facial hair of a Victorian industrialist. The muscle shirt was smeared with blood, as was the black apron and the white wellington boots. ‘She just. . you know, gets under his skin.’

‘And he beats her.’

‘Nah, it was never physical, they’re just that kind of couple. Like to fight. Like to make up. Course, I wouldn’t blame him if he gave her a slap now and then: she won’t shut up sometimes. Other times she just sits there staring at him like he’s Jesus or something. You know? ’

The smell of old fish and spilled diesel wafted across the quay. Off in the middle distance three massive seagulls were fighting over a cod’s head, screaming at each other as they swooped and dived.

‘And are the fights worse when he drinks? ’

‘Nah. . Well, you wouldn’t be able to tell, ’cos he never stops drinking.’

Chalmers looked up from her notebook. ‘What about when he takes drugs? ’

‘What, weed? ’ A laugh. Then the last smouldering stub of cigarette pinged out over the edge of the quay and into the rainbow-filmed water. ‘Not exactly drugs, is it? Just a bit of mother nature’s finest to help a body unwind. God knows where he gets it from, but it’s mint. .’ Clive’s mouth clamped shut, he rolled his shoulders forward, looked off into the middle distance. ‘Not that I would know anything about that, Officers.’

‘Any idea where they’re staying? ’

Clive rubbed his hands down his bloody shirt, then dug a hairnet out of his apron and pulled it on. ‘No idea. But wherever it is, she’s probably winding him up something chronic.’

‘. .and I mean seriously loopy.’ Penny Cooper sucked at her teeth for a bit, staring up over Logan’s shoulder at the secur-ity monitor mounted above the whiteboard. Then she sighed, broad shoulders moving beneath the black T-shirt. Enough gel in her ash-blonde hair to make her look like an electrocuted Jedward. ‘OK, she’s pretty enough, if you like that whole brash perky look-at-my-boobs thing, but still. . Welcome to Freaktown, population: Agnes.’

The bookshop staff room smelled of stale kebab and onions, the microwave buzzzzzzing away to itself on the countertop. Breezeblock walls painted white, and covered with posters for kids’ books and serial-killer thrillers.

Penny peered through the microwave door. ‘Always takes forever, doesn’t it? ’

‘Do you have any idea where they might have gone? ’

‘He’s been banging Stacey the whole time, and Agnes still won’t take the hint. Tell you, I lost count of the times Ton’s tried to ditch her, but she’d just turn up the next day with a litre of voddy and a six-pack of Stella, and that would be that. This one time, he dumped her right before Valentine’s Day and she went out and got his name tattooed right on her thigh. How weird would you have to be? ’

Logan glanced over at Chalmers: still scribbling away in her notebook.

‘So you’re saying he’s a heavy drinker? ’

‘Agnes the nutter drove him to it. Always burbling on about Harry Bloody Potter and Twilight, and that stupid Witchfire book. Seriously, what is she, six? ’

Duncan Cocker’s cigarette sent a smoke signal into the vivid blue sky. ‘Yeah. . dunno, really.’ He leaned back against the grey harled wall and loosened his tie, tucking the pile of house schedules under one arm. ‘They’re kinda.