Close to the Bone

Like working in a kindergarten.

He hauled himself up and pulled his jacket on again. ‘If you’re going to do that all the way, you’re going in the boot.’

‘Porn!’ She did a little hop-skip, then turned and trundled down the corridor. ‘Been ages since we’ve seen the chunky monkey. Think he’ll still remember me? ’

Logan closed and locked the office door. ‘Wish I didn’t.’

‘I heard that.’ But she didn’t stop.

He followed her down the stairs, through the station’s rear doors, and out onto the rear podium car park. It was bordered on two sides by the concrete bulk of Force Headquarters, the mortuary on the third, and the back side of King Street, turning it into a sun trap.

A couple of uniforms were lounging against the little dividing wall that ran along the ramp down to road level, faces turned to the sky, sunglasses glinting, their bare arms going an angry shade of Barbie pink.

Steel hauled out her cigarettes and popped one in her mouth. Then patted down her pockets. ‘Arsebiscuits. .’ She looked at Logan. ‘Well? ’

‘Thought you’d given up.’

‘Quitting is for wimps. Besides, if I’m going to be stuck with your miserable mug all afternoon, I’ll need a wee nicotine buzz going. It’s this or the whisky.’ She cupped her hands around her mouth in a makeshift loudhailer. ‘Hoy, Chuckle Brothers, either of you got a light? ’

Someone tugged at Logan’s sleeve. ‘Guv? ’

He turned, and there was PC Sim, blinking in the sunlight. She sneezed a couple of times, like a shotgun going off in a bath. Then wiped her nose. ‘Sorry.’ Another sneeze. A blink. Pause. ‘Big Gary says you’re not allowed out till you’ve seen your visitor. Sir.’

‘I don’t have any-’

‘Sorry, Guv, it’s. .’ She screwed up one side of her face and then the sneezing was back.

Logan left her, doubled over by a battered police van, and hauled out his phone. Punched in the number for Sergeant McCormack. ‘What visitor? ’

‘Aye, and hello to you too. Sim get you? ’

She was still at it — sneezing and sneezing and sneezing.

‘What visitor, Gary? ’

‘The visitor who’s been waiting in the reception room for the last twenty minutes.’

He stared up at the building, looming in black and grey over the car park. ‘You could’ve bloody said! I’ve been in my office for the last-’

‘Your guest’s getting a wee bit tetchy, by the way. Might be an idea to come see them before you sod off with old Wrinklechops.’

‘Who? Who’s waiting for me, Gary? ’

A pause. ‘You’ll see.’

By the time Logan had reached reception, Big Gary was standing behind the desk, a huge fat smile on his huge fat face. He grinned through the safety glass, then pointed off to the right. ‘In there.’

The reception-room door was shut. Logan keyed his passcode into the pad mounted on the wall beside it, then stepped inside. .

Sod.

Hissing Sid was sitting at the little grey table, arms folded across his chest. Shirt and suit jacket immaculate beneath the scowl. The lawyer checked his watch. ‘I have been waiting here for precisely twenty-two and a half minutes. Do you have any idea how inconvenient this is? ’ A sniff. ‘There isn’t even a wireless network for visitors.’

Logan nudged the door shut behind him. ‘Reuben’s guilty and you know it.’

‘If you had any evidence to that effect, you wouldn’t have had to let him go, would you? ’

‘He punched me in the face. I was there. I bloody well saw it!’

Hissing Sid brought his chin up. ‘I don’t appreciate your tone, Acting DI McRae.’

‘Think you’ll appreciate my boot up your-’

‘I’d love to sit around listening to threats of police brutality, but thanks to you I’m running behind as it is.’ He reached down beside him and came out with his briefcase. Clicked it open, then pulled out a small brown envelope and placed it on the tabletop. Then went back in for a standard white DL one. He placed it beside the brown one, then pushed them both across the table towards Logan. ‘These are for you.’

Logan backed up a step. ‘A brown envelope, seriously? ’

‘If you’re inferring that it contains a bribe, you’re mistaken. The contents should be self-explanatory, but if you’re feeling challenged by any aspect, you can always contact my office and make an appointment.’ He clicked his briefcase shut again. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, our time is up.’

Logan stared down at the pair of envelopes. ‘What is it then, blackmail? ’

A small smile slithered around Hissing Sid’s mouth. ‘For blackmail to be effective, the target has to have done something wrong. Otherwise there would be nothing to blackmail them about. Have you done something wrong, Acting Detective Inspector? ’

He backed off another step. The door handle pressed into the base of his spine. ‘Of course not.’ At least, nothing that Hissing Sid could have found out about. . Could he?

‘Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? ’

‘But what-’

‘DI McRae, do you have any idea how much my services cost per hour? While my client had cleared me to brief you on the contents of these envelopes, you kept me waiting so long that the allocated time is now gone. And as my client is an old family friend I am unwilling to charge him more to make up for your tardiness.’

‘But-’

‘Make an appointment with my office.’ Then Hissing Sid stood, staring at Logan with expressionless grey eyes. ‘Now, if you don’t mind. .? ’

Logan stepped to the side and let him out.

Hissing Sid limped across reception and out through the front doors into the sunny afternoon.

Back in the reception room, Logan closed the door. Two envelopes from a ‘family friend’ of Sandy Moir- Farquharson. Didn’t take a genius to tell who that meant: Wee Hamish Mowat.

Maybe it was a bribe after all — drop the charges against Reuben, and all this could be yours. .

Logan picked the envelopes up. Weighed them in his hand. Or maybe-

A bang on the door and he flinched hard enough to jump a foot to the right. Then stood there, pulse throbbing in his ears, making his arms itch.

Steel’s voice blared through the wood. ‘Come on, get a shift on: there’s fresh porn getting all cold!’

Logan stuffed the envelopes into his pocket. Well, it wasn’t as if he could just leave them lying about, was it? God knew what was inside. .

‘. .and we’re making substantial progress with the enquiry.’ Steel slouched in the passenger seat, one foot up on the dashboard, one arm dangling out of the car window, mobile phone jammed between her ear and her shoulder as she rearranged her bra.

The security guard was a lump of muscle squeezed into a brown polyester shirt. He peered in at Logan, then over at Steel — just in time to catch her digging about in her cleavage with her spare hand.

The guard frowned. ‘You sure she’s police? ’

‘Wish I wasn’t.’ Logan pointed past the barrier at the car park, laid out in front of the two-storey office block. It was crammed with vehicles. ‘Anywhere? ’

‘. .That’s right, sir, several lines of enquiry are opening up, and now we’ve got that forensic anthropologist on board. . Yes, thank you, sir, it was a good idea of mine, but I can’t take all the credit.’

Typical.

The security guard checked his clipboard, then took a couple of steps away from the car and spoke into a two-way radio. Whatever he said, it was too quiet to make anything out. Especially with Steel droning away.